[WHICH PAYS BEST?]
TWO shops stand side by side, in one of our city roads. Both are inhabited by hard-working and most obliging tradesmen. But there is a difference; for the one with the larger family works hard enough—the other works too hard. Six days' work in each week is enough for one, the other cannot do with less than seven.
One shop is closely shut on the Sunday, and from the side door, the father, a widower, may be seen, twice during the day, starting to join the assembly of God's people in His house. His eldest girl, a sweet-faced modest young woman, is on her father's arm, the younger ones go in front—a little family band, of one heart and one mind. There is a sweet sense of peace and rest on the young faces, and a light on that of the father which tells of that other peace, which the world can neither give nor take away.
Those who know them best say they are a happy family—that a loving father has dutiful children, and that the home, under the careful management of that young girl, is a sweet picture to look upon.
The secret of it is, that they leave the six working days outside the Sabbath as far possible; but they take as much as they can of the Sabbath lessons into the week days' work to cheer them onward.
Leaning against the door-post of the next shop is the too industrious master of it. He cannot spare himself the Sunday, and, though he puts up part of the shutters during morning hours, as a sort of compliment to the day of rest, you can see all the goods in tempting array within. You feel quite sure the master is ready to serve any customer who may be as unscrupulous as himself with regard to the Lord's day. Perhaps he thinks he will be the richer for his seven days' work in each week; but his home does not give evidence of this.
What can be more miserable than an untidy home on Sunday morning, and clothing with all the soil of the working days evident upon it! As no member of that household is thinking of going to church, no child has a place at the Sunday-school; neither parents nor children think of washing or dressing until the afternoon. So, slatternly and comfortless, they go about preparing the only sign of Sunday in the shape of a really extravagant dinner.
When this is over, and the kitchen cleaned, after a fashion, the mother takes her Sabbath rest, by sleeping until tea-time, and spends her evening in gossip with the stray customers whom her husband serves—at least when he is to be found in the shop.