“If there should be no increase of family,” was the mental exception that forced itself upon Mr. Bancroft, but this he hardly felt at liberty to suggest; and as it was the only reason he could urge against the step that was so favorably spoken of by his bride to be, he could do no less than resolve, with a kind of pleasant desperation, to take it and let the worst come, if it must come. Single blessedness had become intolerable. Three years of patient waiting had made even patience, itself, no longer a virtue.
So the marriage took place. Two comfortable rooms in a very comfortable house, occupied by a very agreeable family, with the use of the kitchen, were rented for eighty dollars a year, and, in this modest style, housekeeping was commenced. Mrs. Bancroft did all her own work, with the exception of the washing. This was not a very serious labor—indeed, it was more a pleasure than a toil, for she was working for the comfort of one she loved.
“Would I not rather do this than live as I have lived for the past three years?” she would sometimes say to herself, from the very satisfaction of mind she felt. “Yes, a hundred times!”
A year passed away without any additional income. No! we forget there has been an income, and a very important one; it consists in the dearest little babe that ever a mother held tenderly to her loving breast, or ever a father bent over and looked upon with pride. Before the appearance of this little stranger, and while his coming was anxiously looked for, there was a due portion of anxiety felt by Mr. Bancroft, as to how the additional expense that must come, would be met. He did not see his way clear. After the babe was born, and he saw and felt what a treasure he had obtained, he was perfectly satisfied to make the best of what he had, and try to lop off some little self-indulgences, for the sake of meeting the new demands that were to be made upon his purse.
At first, as Mrs. Bancroft had now to have some assistance, and they had but two rooms, a parlor and chamber adjoining, it was thought best to look out for a small house; the objection to this was the additional rent to be paid. After debating the matter, and looking at it on all sides, for some time, they were relieved from their difficulty by the offer of the family from which they rented, to let their girl sleep in one of the garret-rooms, where their own domestic slept. This met the case exactly. The only increased expense for the present, on account of the babe, was a dollar a week to a stout girl of fourteen, and the cost of her boarding, no very serious matter, and more than met from little curtailments that were easily made. So the babe was stowed snugly into the little family, without any necessity for an enlargement of its border. It fit in so nicely that it seemed as if the place it occupied had just been made for it.
And now Mr. Bancroft felt the home-attraction increasing. His steps were more briskly taken when he left his desk and turned his back, in the quiet eventide, upon ledgers and account books.
At the end of another year, Mr. Bancroft found that his expenses and his salary had just balanced each other. There was no preponderance any way. Like the manna that fell in the wilderness from heaven, the supply was equal to the demand. This, however, did not satisfy him. He had a great desire to get a little ahead. In the three years preceding his marriage, he had saved enough to buy the furniture with which they were enabled to go to housekeeping, in a small way; but, since then, it took every dollar to meet their wants.
“In case of sickness and the running up of a large doctor’s bill, what should I do?” he would sometimes ask himself, anxiously; “or, suppose I were thrown out of employment?”
These questions always made him feel serious. The prospect of a still further increase in his family caused him to be really troubled.
“It is just as much as I can now do to make both ends meet,” he would say, despondingly, and sometimes give utterance to such expressions even in the presence of his wife. Mrs. Bancroft was not a woman very deeply read in the prevailing philosophies of the day; but she had a simple mode of reasoning, or rather of concluding, on most subjects that came up for her special consideration. On this matter, in particular, so perplexing to her husband, her very satisfactory solution to the difficulty, was this—
“He that sends mouths, will be sure to send something to fill them.”
There was, in this trite and homely mode of settling the matter, something conclusive, for the time, even to Mr. Bancroft. But doubt, distrust and fear, were his besetting sins, and in a little while, would come back to disturb his mind, and throw a shadow even over the sweet delights of home.
“If there was to be no more increase of family, we could do very well,” he would often say to himself; “but how we are to manage with another baby, is more than I am able to see.”
But all this trouble upon interest availed not. The baby came, and was received with the delight such visits always produce, even where there is already a house full of children. A crib for little Flora, who was now two years old, and able to amuse herself, with occasional aid from her mother and Nancy, the stout girl, who had in two years, grown stouter and more useful, was all the change the coming of the little stranger, already as warmly welcomed as the oldest and dearest friend could be, produced in the household arrangements of Mr. Bancroft. But sundry expenses attendant upon the arrival and previous preparations therefor, drew rather heavier than usual upon his income, and made the supply fall something short of the demand. At this point in his affairs, a vacancy occurred in an insurance office, and Mr. Bancroft applied for and obtained the clerkship. The salary was seven hundred dollars a year. All was now bright again. In the course of a few months, it was thought best for them to rent the whole of a moderate-sized house, as they really needed more room, for health, than they now had; besides, it would be much pleasanter to live alone. For an annual rent of one hundred and fifty dollars, they suited themselves very well. They waited, until the additional salary gave them the means of increasing their furniture in those particulars required, and then made the change. The second comer was a boy, and they had him christened William. As year after year was added to his young life, he grew into a gentle, fair-haired, sweet-tempered child, whose place upon his father’s knee was never yielded even to his sister, on any occasion. His ear was first to catch the sound of his father’s approaching footsteps, and his voice the first to herald his coming. This out-going of affection toward him, caused Mr. Bancroft to feel for little “Willy,” as he was called, a peculiar tenderness, and gave to his voice a tone of music more pleasant than sounds struck from the sweetest instruments.
Year after year came and went, in ever varying succession, adding, every now and then, another and another to the number of Mr. Bancroft’s household treasures. For these, he was not always as thankful as he should have been; and more than once, in anticipation of blessings in this line, was known to say something, in a murmuring way, about being “blessed to death.” And yet for Flora, and William, and Mary, and Kate, and even Harry, the last and least, he had a place in his heart, and all lay there without crowding or jostling each other. The great trouble was, what he was to do with them all. How are they to be supported and educated? True, his salary had been increased until it was a thousand dollars, which was as much as he could expect to receive. On this he was getting along very well, that is, making both ends meet at the expiration of each year. But the children were getting older all the time, and would soon be more expense to him; and then there was no telling how many more were still to come. They had been dropping in, one after another, ever since his marriage, without so much as saying “By your leave, sir!” and how long was this to continue, was a question much more easily asked than answered. Sometimes he made light of the subject, and jested with his wife about her “ten daughters;” but it was rather an unrelishable jest, and never was given with a heartiness that made it awaken more than a smile upon the gentle face of his excellent partner.
We will let five or six years more pass, and then bring our friend, Mr. Bancroft, again before the reader. Flora has grown into a tall girl of fifteen, who is still going to school. William, now a youth of thirteen, is a lad of great promise. His mind is rapidly opening, and is evidently one of great natural force. His father has procured for him the
