That Eurasian

by Aleph Bey

The above was my last meeting with those two relatives of mine. I never cared to know where they were or to trace them, and would most willingly have ascribed to their memory the Romish letters R. I. P.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

There is always plenty of work if one is inclined for it. I was always busy. My wife once remarked to a neighbor that if Mr. Japhet had no work he would invent some. I could never understand why any one having common sense, any strength or energy should be idle. I took great pleasure in setting people to work. I was not always successful, who is? Charity is often more hurtful than otherwise, unless the recipients be in ill health or incapable of labor. It degrades the one who receives it, lowers his manhood, deprives him of that self respect so necessary in every vocation of life.

My duty and pleasure was especially to help Eurasians, those of my own unfortunate caste or race. I knew them so well, for was I not one of them, yet so highly favored? From the time I had met my unfortunate schoolmates repulsed from many a door of the mercantile Christian gentleman in Calcutta, I felt a special yearning towards this class. My experience at that time was a life lesson to me. From that time never a poor wanderer came to me searching for work or food but I thought of what I might have been but for that dear friend of my childhood. Further, it seemed to me that I was in a measure his steward, having in trust his wealth to use for him. I never forgot his often saying, “Now Charles, let us go to our religious service in feeding God’s poor.” He never talked about religion and I never knew from his lips what his creed was. His life was a creed in itself, and it might be put in these words: “Be good yourself and do good to others.” What more can man do or God require? This little simple creed seemed to permeate his whole being, his thoughts, his soul, all his actions. I recall now his intense earnestness, his tearful eyes, and the prayerful expression of his face when he gave out the money or the food. He did this with such devotion as if it was a sacred religious act in the presence of God, and was it not? I have said something of this before but it will bear repeating again and again. Was not this truly following Jesus? Canon Farrar says: “Religion does not mean elaborate theologies, it does not mean membership in this or that organization, it does not depend on orthodoxy in matters of opinion respecting which Christians differ, but it means a good heart and a good life.”

Jesus never made a creed or said anything but what the simplest mind could understand. He went about doing good, giving his life for our imitation, following which we may become pure in heart and see God, his Father and our Father. Mr. Percy was a follower of Jesus. Often when I was about to turn some one away without relief, the question would come, “What would Mr. Percy do if he were here?” The answer at once came, a gift was bestowed and I enjoyed many a blessing in this sacrament of giving.

I think we may often be too careful in our charity as if we knew everything and bore the whole responsibility. Some never give because they were once “taken in” by some unworthy one. This is simply an excuse for their own selfishness and stinginess. Better be deceived half the time, than fail to help the real deserving, the other half. It is our duty to give with the best discretion and then leave the responsibility with God. Surely He will regard us as having done our duty to the best of our ability. The world has no use for a man who never helps another. He is only a useless part of humanity and the sooner he dies and is put out of sight the better. Let him go, who cares? The man who has no poor or distressed to mourn over his death has failed in life, a sad failure.

I remember of reading an incident that, somewhat hardened as I am, brought tears to my eyes. A little girl, the daughter of a poor woman, going up to the coffin of her mother took hold of one of the cold hands saying: “This hand never struck me.” It was a simple childish saying and I don’t know why it should have affected me so.

What better epitaph could one have than that made by a crowd of poor around a coffin pointing to the lifeless hands saying, “Those hands were always ready to help us.”

“Not he that repeateth the name, but he that doeth the will,” is worth remembering. “As long as thou doest well unto thyself, men will speak well of thee” is a worldly maxim, but a heavenly one might be added: “When thou doest well unto others then God will regard thee with favor.”

But I am moralizing again.