In spite of all James's care and diligence, however, things were growing worse and worse; the more James saved, the more his master and mistress spent. One morning, just as the shop was opened, and James had set every body to their respective work, and he himself was settling the business for the day, he found that his master was not yet come from the Grayhound. As this was now become a common case, he only grieved but did not wonder at it. While he was indulging sad thoughts on what would be the end of all this, in ran the tapster from the Grayhound out of breath, and with a look of terror and dismay, desired James would step over to the public house with him that moment, for that his master wanted him.
James went immediately, surprised at this unusual message. When he got into the kitchen of the public house, which he now entered for the first time in his life, though it was just opposite to the house in which he lived, he was shocked at the beastly disgusting appearance of every thing he beheld. There was a table covered with tankards, punch-bowls, broken glasses, pipes, and dirty greasy packs of cards, and all over wet with liquor; the floor was strewed with broken earthen cups, old cards, and an EO table which had been shivered to pieces in a quarrel; behind the table stood a crowd of dirty fellows, with matted locks, hollow eyes, and faces smeared with tobacco; James made his way after the tapster, through this wretched looking crew, to a settle which stood in the chimney-corner. Not a word was uttered, but the silent horror seemed to denote something more than a mere common drunken bout.
What was the dismay of James, when he saw his miserable master stretched out on the settle, in all the agonies of death! He had fallen into a fit; after having drunk hard best part of the night, and seemed to have but a few minutes to live. In his frightful countenance, was displayed the dreadful picture of sin and death, for he struggled at once under the guilt of intoxication, and the pangs of a dying man. He recovered his senses for a few moments, and called out to ask if his faithful servant was come. James went up to him, took him by his cold hand, but was too much moved to speak. "Oh! James, James," cried he in a broken voice, "pray for me, comfort me." James spoke kindly to him, but was too honest to give him false comfort, as it is too often done by mistaken friends in these dreadful moments.
"James," said he, "I have been a bad master to you—you would have saved me, soul and body, but I would not let you—I have ruined my wife, my children, and my own soul. Take warning, oh, take warning by my miserable end," said he to his stupefied companions: but none were able to attend to him but James, who bid him lift up his heart to God, and prayed heartily for him himself. "Oh!" said the dying man, "it is too late, too late for me—but you have still time," said he to the half-drunken, terrified crew around him. "Where is Jack?" Jack Brown came forward, but was too much frightened to speak. "Oh, wretched boy!" said he, "I fear I shall have the ruin of thy soul, as well as my own to answer for. Stop short! Take warning—now in the days of thy youth. O James, James, thou dost not pray for me. Death is dreadful to the wicked—Oh, the sting of death to a guilty conscience!" Here he lifted up his ghastly eyes in speechless horror, grasped hard at the hand of James, gave a deep hollow groan, and closed his eyes, never to open them but in an awful eternity.
This was death in all its horrors! The gay companions of his sinful pleasures could not stand the sight; all slunk away like guilty thieves from their late favorite friend—no one was left to assist him, but his two apprentices. Brown was not so hardened but that he shed many tears for his unhappy master; and even made some hasty resolutions of amendment, which were too soon forgotten.
While Brown stepped home to call the workmen to come and assist in removing their poor master, James staid alone with the corpse, and employed these awful moments in indulging the most serious thoughts, and praying heartily to God, that so terrible a lesson might not be thrown away upon him; but that he might be enabled to live in a constant state of preparation for death. The resolutions he made at this moment, as they were not made in his own strength, but in an humble reliance on God's gracious help, were of use to him as long as he lived; and if ever he was for a moment tempted to say, or do a wrong thing, the remembrance of his poor dying master's long agonies, and the dreadful words he uttered, always operated as an instant check upon him.
When Williams was buried, and his affairs came to be inquired into, they were found to be in a sad condition. His wife, indeed, was the less to be pitied, as she had contributed her full share to the common ruin. James, however, did pity her, and by his skill in accounts, his known honesty, and the trust the creditors put in his word, things came to be settled rather better than Mrs. Williams had expected.
Both Brown and James were now within a month or two of being out of their time. The creditors, as we said before, employed James to settle his late master's accounts, which he did in a manner so creditable to his abilities, and his honesty, that they proposed to him to take the shop himself. He assured them it was utterly out of his power for want of money. As the creditors had not the least fear of being repaid, if it should please God to spare his life, they generously agreed among themselves to advance him a small sum of money without any security but his bond; for this he was to pay a very reasonable interest, and to return the whole in a given number of years. James shed tears of gratitude at this testimony to his character, and could hardly be prevailed on to accept their kindness, so great was his dread of being in debt.
He took the remainder of the lease from his mistress; and in settling affairs with her, took care to make every thing as advantageous to her as possible. He never once allowed himself to think how unkind she had been to him; he only saw in her the needy widow of his deceased master, and the distressed mother of an infant family; and was heartily sorry it was not in his power to contribute to their support; it was not only James's duty, but his delight, to return good for evil—for he was a Christian.
James Stock was now, by the blessing of God, on his own earnest endeavors, master of a considerable shop, and was respected by the whole town for his prudence, honesty, and piety. How he behaved in his new station, and also what befell his comrade Brown, must be the subject of another book; and I hope my readers will look forward with some impatience for some further account of this worthy young man. In the mean time, other apprentices will do well to follow so praiseworthy an example, and to remember that the respectable master of a large shop, and of a profitable business, was raised to that creditable situation, without money, friends, or connections, from the low beginning of a parish apprentice, by sobriety, industry, the fear of God, and an obedience to the divine principles of the Christian religion.
PART II.
THE APPRENTICE TURNED MASTER.
The first part of this history left off with the dreadful sudden death of Williams, the idle shoemaker, who died in a drunken fit at the Grayhound. It also showed how James Stock, his faithful apprentice, by his honest and upright behavior, so gained the love and respect of his late master's creditors, that they set him up in business, though he was not worth a shilling of his own—such is the power of a good character! And when we last parted from him he had just got possession of his master's shop.
This sudden prosperity was a time of trial for James, who, as he was now become a creditable tradesman, I shall hereafter think proper to call Mr. James Stock. I say, this sudden rise in life was a time of trial; for we hardly know what we are ourselves till we become our own masters. There is indeed always a reasonable hope that a good servant will not make a bad master, and