On this happy, memorable morning, dressed in a full suit of mourning, even to the crape on my new hat, with a valise well filled with good linen, handkerchiefs, and stockings, I entered Mr. Bartlett’s private office for the last time. He looked at me with an inquiring eye, as I stood covered with confusion and agitation. “What is the meaning of this, Mr. Parr?” said he, “you seem equipped for a journey.”
“I was twenty-one years of age at six o’clock this morning,” said I, my face flushed as I could feel by the tingling in my ears.
“Well, what if you were,” said he, looking as much surprised as if an apprentice never was to leave his master. “I thought your time was nearly out—this is St. Patrick’s day, is it? but you are going to return. You shall have good wages, and I shall take care that you have a good berth.”
“No, sir,” said I, almost breathless with fear that I should be spell bound,—“no, sir, I intend to travel about in the country this summer; I am going to put head stones to the graves of my father and mother: that is my first purpose, now that I have money and am free. I hope and trust that you think I have served a faithful and honest apprenticeship, and that if I want a situation in a printing office I can ask you for a good character.”
“Yes, most assuredly you can; but you need not apply elsewhere. I know your worth, young man, and I have both the power and inclination to serve you. Serve me for five years as well as you have done, and I will make you a partner in the concern.”
I thanked him warmly for this gratifying mark of esteem, but I could not accept of his offer, my very heart turned sick at the thought of staying another day even. He was evidently disconcerted, and made several pauses, as if to consider whether he might not propose something more acceptable, but I fortified myself against all that he might urge, and I am sure that an offer to make me his full partner immediately would not have induced me to remain.
I asked for my indentures. “Well,” said he, “Mr. Parr, you are not to be moved, I see; but that shall not hinder me from doing you justice; you have served me well, and it is but fair that I should look to your interest. He turned from me and wrote a letter of recommendation to two publishers, one in New York and the other in Boston, and taking his check book from the shelf, he drew a check, which I found was for two hundred dollars. He gave me the three papers, and then proceeded to look for the indenture; he handed it to me, endorsed properly, and after thanking him for his former and present kindness, I asked him if he would allow me to beg one more favour of him, which was that he would still keep for me the certificates of my parents’ marriage and my birth, and allow me to draw on him, as usual, for the interest of the mortgage which he held for me. He had previously to this put me in possession of it, and of the money in the savings bank, he having held it in trust for me. He readily promised me this favour, begging me to use the money prudently as hitherto, and in case of any difficulty to apply to him. We shook hands, and I was in the act of picking up my valise to depart when the crape on my hat caught his eye.
“You are in mourning, I perceive,” said he, “there is crape on your hat and your clothes are black; I did not know that you had a single relation here.”
“Nor have I,” said I. “I put on this mourning dress as a mark of affectionate gratitude to my poor godfather, Patrick O’Brien. I had it not in my power to do it before, but as his goodness lives still fresh and green in my memory, why should I omit doing that which I know would gratify his spirit if it should be permitted him to know it?”
“I wish for your sake that he had lived to see this day,” said Mr. Bartlett, “but I will not detain you longer; I wish you well from the bottom of my heart.”