A true Christian always goes heartily to work to find out what is his besetting sin; and when he has found it (which he easily may if he looks sharp), against this sin he watches narrowly. Now I know it is the fashion among some folks (and a bad fashion it is), to fancy that good people have no sin; but this only shows their ignorance. It is not true. That good man, St. Paul, knew better.[3] And when men do not own their sins, it is not because there is no sin in their hearts, but because they are not anxious to search for it, nor humble to confess it, nor penitent to mourn over it. But this was not the case with James Stock. "Examine yourselves truly," said he, "is no bad part of the catechism." He began to be afraid that his desire of living creditably, and without being a burden to any one, might, under the mask of honesty and independence, lead him into pride and covetousness. He feared that the bias of his heart lay that way. So instead of being proud of his sobriety; instead of bragging that he never spent his money idly, nor went to the ale-house; instead of boasting how hard he worked and how he denied himself, he strove in secret that even these good qualities might not grow out of a wrong root. The following event was of use to him in the way of indulging any disposition to covetousness.
One evening as he was standing at the door of his shop, a poor dirty boy, without stockings and shoes, came up and asked him for a bit of broken victuals, for he had eaten nothing all day. In spite of his dirt and rags he was a very pretty, lively, civil spoken boy, and Mr. Stock could not help thinking he knew something of his face. He fetched him out a good piece of bread and cheese, and while the boy was devouring it, asked him if he had no parents, and why he went about in that vagabond manner? "Daddy has been dead some years," said the boy; "he died in a fit over at the Grayhound. Mammy says he used to live at this shop, and then we did not want for clothes nor victuals neither." Stock was melted almost to tears on finding that this dirty beggar boy was Tommy Williams, the son of his old master. He blessed God on comparing his own happy condition with that of this poor destitute child, but he was not prouder at the comparison; and while he was thankful for his own prosperity, he pitied the helpless boy. "Where have you been living of late?" said he to him, "for I understand you all went home to your mother's friends." "So we did, sir," said the boy, "but they are grown tired of maintaining us, because they said that mammy spent all the money which should have gone to buy victuals for us, on snuff and drams. And so they have sent us back to this place, which is daddy's parish."
"And where do you live here?" said Mr. Stock. "O, sir, we were all put into the parish poor-house." "And does your mother do any thing to help to maintain you?" "No, sir, for mammy says she was not brought up to work like poor folks, and she would rather starve than spin or knit; so she lies a-bed all the morning, and sends us about to pick up what we can, a bit of victuals or a few half-pence." "And have you any money in your pocket now?" "Yes, sir, I have got three half-pence which I have begged to-day." "Then, as you were so very hungry, how came you not to buy a roll at that baker's over the way?" "Because, sir, I was going to lay it out in tea for mammy, for I never lay out a farthing for myself. Indeed mammy says she will have her tea twice a-day if we beg or starve for it." "Can you read, my boy?" said Mr. Stock: "A little, sir, and say my prayers too." "And can you say your catechism?" "I have almost forgotten it all, sir, though I remember something about honoring my father and mother, and that makes me still carry the half-pence home to mammy instead of buying cakes." "Who taught you these good things?" "One Jemmy Stock, sir, who was a parish 'prentice to my daddy. He taught me one question out of the catechism every night, and always made me say my prayers to him before I went to bed. He told me I should go to the wicked place if I did not fear God, so I am still afraid to tell lies like the other boys. Poor Jemmy gave me a piece of ginger bread every time I learnt well; but I have no friend now; Jemmy was very good to me, though mammy did nothing but beat him."
Mr. Stock was too much moved to carry on the discourse; he did not make himself known to the boy, but took him over to the baker's shop; as they walked along he could not help repeating aloud a verse or two of that beautiful hymn so deservedly the favorite of all children:
"Not more than others I deserve,
Yet God hath given me more;
For I have food while others starve,
Or beg from door to door."
The little boy looked up in his face, saying, "Why, sir, that's the very hymn which Jemmy Stock gave me a penny for learning." Stock made no answer, but put a couple of threepenny loaves into his hand to carry home, and told him to call on him again at such a time in the following week.
HOW MR. STOCK CONTRIVED TO BE CHARITABLE WITHOUT ANY EXPENSE.
Stock had abundant subject for meditation that night. He was puzzled what to do with the boy. While he was carrying on his trade upon borrowed money, he did not think it right to give any part of that money, to assist the idle, or even help the distressed. "I must be just," said he, "before I am generous." Still he could not bear to see this fine boy given up to a certain ruin. He did not think it safe to take him into his shop in his present ignorant, unprincipled state. At last he hit upon this thought: I work for myself twelve hours in the day. Why shall I not work one hour or two for this boy in the evening? It will be but for a year, and I shall then have more right to do what I please. My money will then be my own: I shall have paid my debts.
So he began to put his resolution in practice that very night, sticking to his old notion of not [putting] off till to-morrow what should be done to-day: and it was thought he owed much of his success in life, as well as his growth in goodness, to this little saying: "I am young and healthy," said he, "one hour's work more will do me no harm; I will set aside all I get by these over-hours, and put the boy to school. I have not only no right to punish this child for the sins of his father, but I consider that though God hated those sins, he has made them to be instrumental to my advancement."
Tommy Williams called at the time appointed. In the mean time Mr. Stock's maid had made him a neat little suit of clothes of an old coat of her master's. She had also knit him a pair of stockings, and Mr. Stock made him sit down in the shop, while he fitted him with a pair of new shoes. The maid having washed and dressed him, Stock took him by the hand, and walked along with him to the parish poor-house to find his mother. They found her dressed in ragged, filthy finery, standing at the door, where she passed most of her time, quarreling with half a dozen women as idle and dirty as herself. When she saw Tommy so neat and well-dressed, she fell a crying for joy. She said "it put her in mind of old times, for Tommy always used to be dressed like a gentleman." "So much the worse," said Mr. Stock; "if you had not begun by making him look like a gentleman, you needed not have ended by making him look like a beggar." "Oh Jem!" said she (for though it was four years since she had seen him she soon recollected him), "fine times for you! Set a beggar on horseback—you know the proverb. I shall beat Tommy well for finding you out and exposing me to you."