The excellent Caleb waved his hand in a deprecatory manner. "I have received my penny a day," he replied; "neither more nor less."
As a matter of fact he was at that moment receiving about nineteen pounds, nineteen shillings and eleven pence more than his penny a day; but it never does to press a metaphor too far.
Then Mrs. Martin chimed in with the remark: "You will do well to think upon Mr. Martin's words, my dear Paul. At Oxford you are doubtless exposed to other pernicious influences in addition to that of infidelity, as you are thrown much with young persons who have been nurtured in the pride of high rank and of noble blood—a most subtle and dangerous form of sin, to my thinking."
Paul much regretted that Joanna was not present. She always appreciated Mrs. Martin so warmly, and she had frequently called attention to the fact (now en evidence) that in the spiritual world the special dangers which beset our neighbours seem so much more terrible than those which beset ourselves. The latter are but pardonable weaknesses, we think; but the former are mortal sins. Thus we pray that we may be delivered from pitfalls which have no attraction for us, and we hope that Providence will be so much engaged in attending to the fulfilment of this prayer, that our slips and stumbles into the little hollows which we affect will pass unnoticed.
"Pride of birth is a dreadful besetment," continued Mrs. Martin, "and one which I pray may never be laid to my charge." Which certainly seemed an almost superfluous petition, considering the lineage of the suppliant.
The Martins were very anxious to be delivered from the temptations arising from such mundane blessings as had been denied them; but it never seemed to occur to them to pray for exemption from the love of money.
"I suppose all worldly gifts become besetments if we give them a primary instead of a secondary place," suggested Paul, "and if we confuse essentials with non-essentials."
"Quite so, quite so," agreed Mr. Martin; "and it is this thought which gives us parents so much anxiety when we look forward into our children's future—this fear that the young people may, in their ignorance, fling away the substance for the sake of the shadow; as a young friend of mine once did, who refused a partnership in an excellent business in order to become a missionary."
"What happened to him eventually?" asked Paul.
Mr. Martin heaved a sigh of sincere regret. "He died—a comparatively young man—somewhere in the South Seas. And if he had taken my advice and stayed at home, he might have been the mayor of his native town by this time. But young folks will not be controlled."