Northcliffe boys

GEORGE'S HOME.

AUTUMN winds were blowing in Northcliffe, and the streets and lanes were thickly strewn with the fallen leaves. It was a cold, damp afternoon, and everything looked dull and cheerless—everything and everybody, with one exception, and that was a boy about twelve years of age who was half running, half walking along the lane leading from Greychurch to Northcliffe and who whistled merrily as he went along, a strongly built lad, tall for his age, with a fair, ruddy Saxon face. He was well known in Northcliffe, and everybody had a good word to say for him. Always ready to do a kind turn for any one, every little child liked George Horbrook; and every dog in the town wagged his tail as the good-natured boy went by.

At the turning of the road which led into the town, a group of big boys were standing.

"Hollo," cried one of them to George as he was hurrying by, "where have you been?"

"To Greychurch, to see Mr. Day."

"What for?"

"He has promised to take me on as a mason's boy, and I am to go to work at the new terrace to-morrow morning."

Very happy was the tone in which these words were spoken, and very brightly sparkled the speaker's large blue eyes.

"'You!'" cried the boy who had first spoken. "'You!' Why, you've never carried a hod in your life."

"I suppose I can learn," said George.

"May be so; but Mr. Day has said over and over again he would never take a boy who didn't know something about his work. Why, it was only a week or two ago that any father asked him to take 'me,' and he wouldn't."

"All I know is, he has promised to take 'me,'" cried George, laughing; "and won't I try and please him, that's all! I am to have four shillings a week to begin with."

Fred Giles muttered something about it not being fair, and Tom Hunt, another of the boys said,—

"You'll be glad enough to have done with school, that's one thing, George."

"No such thing, Tom. I should have liked to stay a year longer at school; but father and mother want even my little help, so I'm glad to go to work for their sakes."

"You won't come to the Sunday school either now, I suppose?" said Fred.

George's merry laugh sounded above the wind. "Mr. Day don't work his boys on Sundays," he said.

"None of your impudence, George!" cried Fred, in a surly tone. "You know what I mean very well. You will be your own master now, and will not care about the Sunday school."

"Just the other way, Fred. The Sunday school will help to keep me straight; and as to being my own master, teacher says no one who reads his Bible can ever call himself that."

"Your good luck has turned your head I think, George," cried Fred jeeringly; "but you needn't try to preach to us, because—"

Here the boys set up a loud laugh. We have all our weak points, and George's was not liking to be laughed at.

He answered angrily, "I am not preaching, and I know very well what I mean, and—"

"Tell us, then."

"I mean, I mean!" cried George, getting more angry and more confused every moment.

"He 'doesn't' know what he means," said Fred, in a taunting voice.

George's passion was at its height, and he rushed forward with uplifted arm to strike Fred, when all in a moment the arm raised in anger fell quietly by his side, and with a great effort, he gulped down the bitter words just ready to issue from his lips, and stood breathless but calm before the group of boys.

"He's afraid!" they cried with one voice.

"I 'am afraid' of doing any more wrong," said poor George, very humbly. "I lost my temper, and I am very sorry for it; but all the time I did know what I meant to say, and that was that the Bible says, 'Neither be ye called masters; for "one" is your Master, even Christ.' Teacher made us learn that text the other day, and explained to us how that every one on earth, from the king to the beggar, is God's servant, and how we ought all to try to be good and profitable servants."

"We want no more preaching, George," said Tom Hunt, interrupting him. "All I know is, it's a shame you should be taken on by Mr. Day, when Fred Giles, who is nearly twice your size, has been refused."

The boys moved off as they spoke, and George, glad to be free from them, continued his way home; but he no longer whistled as he went. Why had Mr. Day refused to take Fred Giles? And was it really the unfair thing the boys had called it? Not at all.

Mr. Day had all the right on his side. He knew Fred Giles to be an idle boy. He had already been in several situations in the town, but had been discharged from them all before he had been in them many weeks. In his last place, there had been strong suspicions against his honesty; and although nothing was fully proved against him, his good name had suffered greatly.

Well might Solomon say, "A good name is better than riches." Fred's parents also did not bear the best of characters in the town; and all these things are taken into consideration by people when about to engage a boy.

"I will have nothing to do with that boy," is a common remark; "his father is a drunkard, and what can you expect from the son?" Or, "I should be afraid to try that girl; her mother is an idle woman, who has never taught her daughter habits of industry and tidiness." And thus the sins of the fathers are visited upon the children.

George Horbrook's parents were very poor, but no one had a word to say against them. Poverty is no crime; and the Horbrooks had tried to bring up their children honestly and respectably; and where they had failed to do so, every one felt the fault had not been theirs.

George himself was a good and steady boy, his chief fault being that of a too hasty temper. At school he had done so well that the master had offered to keep him for another year free of expense to his parents, in consideration of the help he was able to give with some of the little boys. But the Horbrooks were so badly off, in consequence of the father's illness, that even the trifle George might be able to earn was a great object to them.

When Mr. Day had been spoken to about George, he said,—

"That boy comes of a good stock; and the schoolmaster gives him a good character for truthfulness and industry. I want another young hand just now, and I will give him the preference, although he knows nothing of the work."

So much for the value of a good name!

When George reached home and told the good news about his engagement to Mr. Day, his mother's pale and anxious face brightened up with a smile of thankfulness. Her husband had been laid up for many months through an injury he had received from the fall of a heavy stone upon his foot. There was no chance of his being able to work for some length of time, and meanwhile there were nine children, only one of whom was older than George, and that one, who should have been the comfort and stay of his parents, was a source of the deepest sorrow and anxiety to them.

It was a very poor home where the Horbrooks lived, only two rooms, and a third scarcely bigger than a cupboard. Mrs. Horbrook had at one time rented a larger cottage, and had earned some money by letting her spare rooms, but the owner of the house had wanted to reside in it himself, so the Horbrooks were obliged to leave, and there was no other vacant cottage to be had in all Northcliffe but the small one they now lived in.