So thought young Barry when his parents were by his side; and not only thought so, but plainly told them that he wished to die.
“I hope not yet, my boy,” said his father. “The young sapling may get a blight, but it soon recovers, and springs up vigorously; but the old trees naturally decay. I hope to go first, my boy.”
“Yes, father, such may be your hope and natural expectation; but Heaven avert it! You have others to live for; may I never live to see your death!”
“Come, John, do not give way to such feelings. You know not yet what the good God may have in store for you.”
“He has, indeed, been good to me, father, and has left me nothing more to wish for in this world.”
“Perhaps not for your own benefit, John; but we are not always to die just when we wish it. Neither are we to live merely for ourselves. We are called upon to live for others; and more may be expected of us on this account than upon our own. We are not to be such selfish beings as to think, ‘The wind blows only for our own mill.’”
“I meant not to find fault, father; but I am disappointed, and feel therefore useless.”
“I know your disappointment, boy; but I would not have you take it so to heart as to let it prey upon your spirits. There are others far better and more worthy of you, who may esteem you, John, for your good conduct and character; and one of such may make you an excellent companion for life.”
“Father, I know I am not so wise as you are. I have not your experience; yet this I feel and say, that I hope you will never find fault with that poor girl.”
“I will not, John, in your presence; but how can a father help feeling hurt and angry with a girl who prefers a smuggler to an honest man?”