each other, as to the power, or want of power, in the masters to remedy the evils the men complain of.”
“I’m loth to vex you, sir, just now; but it was not the want of power I was talking on; what we all feel sharpest is the want of inclination to try and help the evils which come like blights at times over the manufacturing places, while we see the masters can stop work and not suffer. If we saw the masters try for our sakes to find a remedy, —even if they were long about it,—even if they could find no help, and at the end of all could only say, ‘Poor fellows, our hearts are sore for ye; we’ve done all we could, and can’t find a cure,’—we’d bear up like men through bad times. No one knows till they have tried, what power of bearing lies in them, if once they believe that men are caring for their sorrows and will help if they can. If fellow-creatures can give nought but tears and brave words, we take our trials straight from God, and we know enough of His love to put ourselves blind into His hands. You say our talk has done no good. I say it has. I see the view you take of things from the place where you stand. I can remember that, when the time comes for judging you; I shan’t think any longer, does he act right on my views of a thing, but does he act right on his own. It has done me good in that way. I’m an old man, and may never see you again; but I’ll pray for you, and think on you and your trials, both of your great wealth, and of your son’s cruel death, many and many a day to come; and I’ll ask God to bless both to you now and for evermore. Amen. Farewell!”
Jem had maintained a manly and dignified reserve ever since he had made his open statement of all he knew. Now both the men rose and bowed low, looking at Mr. Carson with the deep human interest they could not fail to take in one who had endured and forgiven a deep injury; and who struggled hard, as it was evident he did, to bear up like a man under his affliction.
He bowed low in return to them. Then he suddenly came forward and shook them by the hand; and thus, without a word more, they parted.
There are stages in the contemplation and endurance of great sorrow, which endow men with the same earnestness and clearness of thought that in some of old took the form of Prophecy. To those who have large capability of loving and suffering, united with great power of firm endurance, there comes a time in their woe, when they are lifted out of the contemplation of their individual case into a searching inquiry into the nature of their calamity, and the remedy (if remedy there be) which may prevent its recurrence to others as well as to themselves.
Hence the beautiful, noble efforts which are from time to time brought to light, as being continuously made by those who have once hung on the cross of agony, in order that others may not suffer as they have done; one of the grandest ends which sorrow can accomplish; the sufferer wrestling with God’s messenger until a blessing is left behind, not for one alone but for generations.
It took time before the stern nature of Mr. Carson was compelled to the recognition of this secret of comfort, and that same sternness prevented his reaping any benefit in public estimation from the actions he performed; for the character is more easily changed than the habits and manners originally formed by that character, and to his dying day Mr. Carson was considered hard and cold by those who only casually saw him or superficially knew him. But those who were admitted into his confidence were aware, that the wish that lay nearest to his heart was that none might suffer from the cause from which he had suffered; that a perfect understanding, and complete confidence and love, might exist between masters and men; that the truth might be recognised that the interests of one were the interests of all, and, as such, required the consideration and deliberation of all; that hence it was most desirable to have educated workers, capable of judging, not mere machines of ignorant men: and to have them bound to their employers by the ties of respect and affection, not by mere money bargains alone; in short, to acknowledge the Spirit of Christ as the regulating law between both parties.
Many of the improvements now in practice in the system of employment in Manchester, owe their origin to short, earnest sentences spoken by Mr. Carson. Many and many yet to be carried into execution, take their birth from that stern, thoughtful mind, which submitted to be taught by suffering.
XXXVIII. CONCLUSION.
“Touch us gently, gentle Time! We’ve not proud nor soaring wings, Our ambition, our content, Lies in simple things; Humble voyagers are we O’er life’s dim unsounded sea; Touch us gently, gentle Time !” —BARRY CORNWALL.
Not many days after John Barton’s funeral was over, all was arranged respecting Jem’s appointment at Toronto; and the time was fixed for his sailing. It was to take place almost immediately: yet much remained to be done; many domestic preparations were to be made; and one great obstacle, anticipated by both Jem and Mary, to be removed. This was the opposition they expected from Mrs. Wilson, to whom the plan had never yet been named.
They were most anxious that their home should continue ever to be hers, yet they feared that her dislike to a new country might be an insuperable objection to this. At last Jem took advantage of an evening of unusual placidity, as he sat alone with his mother just before going to bed, to broach the subject; and to his surprise she acceded willingly to his proposition of her accompanying himself and his wife.
“To be sure ‘Merica is a long way to flit to; beyond London a good bit I reckon; and quite in foreign parts; but I’ve never had no opinion of England, ever since they could be such fools as to take up a quiet chap like thee, and clap thee in prison. Where you go, I’ll go. Perhaps in them Indian countries they’ll know a well-behaved lad when they see him; ne’er speak a word more, lad, I’ll go.”
Their path became daily more smooth and easy; the present was clear and practicable, the future was hopeful; they had leisure of mind enough to turn to the past.
“Jem!” said Mary to him, one evening as they sat in the twilight, talking together in low happy voices till Margaret should come to keep Mary company through the night, “Jem! you’ve never yet told me how you came to know about my naughty ways with poor young Mr. Carson.” She blushed for shame at the remembrance of her folly, and hid her head on his shoulder while he made answer.
“Darling, I’m almost loth to tell you; your aunt Esther told me.”
“Ah, I remember! but how did she know? I was so put about that night I did not think of asking her. Where did you see her? I’ve forgotten where she lives.”
Mary said all this in so open and innocent a manner, that Jem felt sure she knew not the truth respecting Esther, and he half hesitated to tell her. At length he replied—
“Where did you see Esther lately? When? Tell me, love, for you’ve never named it before, and I can’t make it out.”
“Oh! it was that horrible night, which is like a dream.” And she told him of Esther’s midnight visit, concluding with, “We must go and see her before we leave, though I don’t rightly know where to find her.”
“Dearest Mary”—
“What, Jem?” exclaimed she, alarmed by his hesitation.
