Watch—Work—Wait / Or, The Orphan's Victory

by Sarah A. Myers

Our little shoemaker stood looking through the window with a pleasure nearly allied to that which had once enchained him before the picture-shops. What was it that so fettered his attention that he did not remark the presence of the servant, who had at last answered the summons of the door-bell? Was it the quiet and beautiful specimen of home instruction he was witnessing? Was it the neat and tasteful furnishing of the apartment,—the handsome but now unoccupied writing-desk, which was provided with every thing necessary, from a pen-knife down to a pen-wiper? Or did something in the shape of an old-fashioned sofa in the corner, on which sat three large dolls, claim the observation which was so intense as to amount to absolute rudeness? Yes, it was one of the leathern ladies that awakened such an extraordinary interest in the boy; for on its feet were the red morocco boots, bound and tied with light blue ribbon—very untasteful was the contrast—which he had made out of gratitude for the kindness shown him on the day in which he dropped the shoes in the gutter.

"What are you staring in there for, boy?" said a broad-faced Irish girl, giving him a pull. "Sure don't you know it's not civil to do the likes of that? tell us what it is ye want, and then take yourself off."

William stated his errand, and the ruddy damsel, satisfied that he meant no harm, said she "did not know whether ould Mistress Stewart was in the place, but she would go and see."

Thus left, there was time to renew his observations; and just then the door of the basement room opened, and a delicate but bright-looking boy of fourteen, with a gun in his hand and a game-bag over his shoulder, entered. "O Clara! such a pleasant day Harry Clinton and I have had! I have shot a round dozen of birds, and he has more! But tell me, is little Frank any better?"

"O yes, a great deal better," answered Clara, "so that grandmother—"

Biddy now interrupted the speech by her presence, and telling our hero that she had been "hunting the ould lady up stairs and down stairs, in my lady's chamber, and everywhere, without finding her, she went till young Mistress Stewart, and she tould her she was not in it, but was away an hour ago."

It was now growing late, and our little shoemaker thought his wisest plan was to carry the shoes home for the present; he felt that he had already wasted too much time, and that he would most probably find the Walters displeased at the delay. He turned most reluctantly away from the window, unwilling to depart from a place where such a new and strong interest had been created, but there was no help for it; and he pursued his way with a feeling of regret, as he contrasted the circumstances of those happy children with his own. This mood could not continue long; he felt that it was wrong; he would not murmur, but submit.

With his usual openness he explained to Mr. Walters the cause of his delay; for which he received the usual amount of grumbling, with a threat for the future he should be made to stick to his last, and learn how to use time—a threat which was at once put into execution, for the next day he carried the shoes to Professor Stewart's himself, and the affair was ended to his satisfaction. He was, as he had been threatened, kept closely to work; but although his work was even more joyless than ever, he was not without a gleam of sunshine in his heart, lent him by the prospect of being able to prepare happiness for others.

Time passes on rapidly, but with equal pace, unheeding whether, as a "swift-winged and beautiful angel," he opens flowers on the way for some, or, as a "relentless, unsparing destroyer," he nips the budding hopes and scatters the blight of disappointment on others; but still bearing the record of each minute to eternity, the gliding hours are silently working for all. Their passage had seemingly, as yet, brought no change in the circumstances of our little shoemaker; unloved and unloving, as at first, the days had rolled away with dull and leaden weight, until they approached the second winter since he had left his home at M——.

The shortened days and lengthening nights brought with them anticipations of Christmas festivals; and when the snow began to fall the winter pleasures began, and preparations were made for the amusements always got up for the holidays. What kind of enjoyment had William to expect, further than to stroll through the streets and survey the treasures in shop windows, none of which would find their way to him? and yet, strange to tell, he too looked forward to the coming festival with hopeful anticipation.