The Ministers' Old Coat

" Minister's sons are very apt to tur out badly," said I to tlie gentleina who sat next to me in the car. W had met in the train bound for Chica go, and had struck up an acquaintance He Stopped me witli liis hand on m arm, and wilh an earnest look which ' shall never forget. Ipaused at once in wliat 1 was saying, and it seemed for a moment almost as ii' fche rushing train had stopped to listen too. ' Let me teil yon ;i story," he said "I know it is a commoB helief tha minister 's sous are wild, but that is beause jeople talk about tlie bad ones while those who turn out well are taken as a matter of oourse. I gathereil slalislics about theia onoe, and I found that out ot' 1000 sous of ministers there were few who did not grow up useful and industrious men." "But what is your story V" I asked etting back in uiy seat. "Well," said he, "it beglns with a class snpper in Boston a dozen years ago. A mu ulier of college friends had gathered in the evening for their annual reunión. A mona; them was the rich merchantj. E. Williston - pernapa you have heard of him - and a poor pastor of a country cliurcu in Elinbank village, out in western Massaichusetts, whose name wasBlake. A good many ot' the class liad died, and the dozen or so elderly men wlio were left feit more tender than ever towaid eaeh other aa they thought of the bright old days at Harvard, and liow Boon no one would he left on earth, who shared in that happy time. The dishes came and went, the lights glowed brilliantly and a ■ last .the fnenda grew quite gay. But the tendel' feelingl have spoken of would come uppermost now andthen; and in one of these musing moments Williston's eye was attracted by something glistening about the coat whicn his friend Blake, who sat next to hini, bad on, He looked closer, and saw that the black cloth of whicli it was made had been worn so thin and smooth that it was very shiny. " ' Wel!, Blake,' said he, suddenly. taking hold of his Mend's ann eordially (wliioh he somehow liadn't thought ofdoing before), 'how has the world gone with yon latelyf' "Blake had a naturally sad and thoughtful face; but he looked around quickly with a warm .sniile. "'Xo need to ask,' lie said laughing]y. ■ You eau read the whole story on my back. I'liis old coat is a sort of batanee abeet, which shows my linancial condition to a T.' " Then he spoke more seriously, adding: 'It is a pretty hard life, Williston, that of a country parson. I don't aomplain of my lot, though sometimes l'in distressefl forniy family. Tliefact is, this coat that I have on is hardly lit for a man ui' my profession to appear in, but ['m giing to send my boy Saan to Ilarvanl tliis year, and must pinch here and there to do it. I really ought to bc fcnankful, thongh, that I can gèt such advantages for iiim by a few littlo saeriiices of personal appearanee and i convenience.' i " Don't yim give i thought of your coat. (ild fellow,' returned Williaton. 'Nobody who knows you wiil ever imagine that the heart inskle of it ia Ibreadbare, howeverthe garment may look.' "Blake was pleased with tliis kindly xpression, and both men af ter that 9xohange of confldence feithappier. But among the various incidents of the eveniug thia one almost passed out of the niiiiistcr's mind by the next day when he starled for Elmbank. Speedy as his return was, however, something meant ior mm had got to lus destination before Mm. It was a letter. Taking it up he broke open the envel0]e and found inside a few words from Williston with a clieck tor $500 to defr;iy the lirst year's college expenses oí' his old elass-mates' ,son. " You are a stranger to me, sir," said niy feraveling companion at this point, "but I think you will appreciate the feeling with which poor Mr. rilake stoou in his bare and dingy study in the old farm paraonage, holding the letter in his hand and lifting his faithful eyes in thankfulness to God." "Yes." I replied, "Williston did just the right thing, too. And how was it? Did the son show that lie deserved the help 'i " My aequaintance looked away from me at the rich country tlirough which we were passing. Then lie said: "Sam Blake was a good nuttired, obeilient fellow enough, and was greatly pleased to have the expense of his lirs't eollegè year taken off his father's shoulders; but his sense of duty didn't go very far. The Rev. ïfr. Blake bought a ncw coat; and Sam eutered Harvard that fall; and there mattera stopped fov a while. " A Fréshman has got a great deal to learn, as you know; but I think the chief thing Sam learned that term was the great diflerence there is bet ween Harvard and a little village like Elnibank, and the great difticulty of working and playing at the same time. Here hehad society meetings to attend, and rooms of his own, with a chuni, where a great deal of smoking was done liy hiiu.self and lus friends. And then there was liase ball, into which it appeared indispensable for the honor of the class thai ne should enter actively, on account of lus strong legs, wonderful wind and ground batling. He could not refuse to go to the theater oecasionally with his richer companions. Sam took a natural Interest in the society of young ladies, too, and had to give up same to its cultivation. He alio thought that a moderate amoiint of practiee in the gymnasium wos desirable to prevent his health breaking down under the contineinent of study. So, ou the whole, the actiw vrark that lid in the college was not very extensivo. This didn't seem to have any liad effect till well along in the Winter, when the habit of shirking work had grown sn strong without his noticing it he feil ea.sily into n-adin ïKivrls when hc ought to have been in therecitation room. Gymnasium, theatre, billiards, smoking and I am afraid 1 must say a little drinking frittered away his time. "One horribly gnowy, sleety morning, when he liad got 'up too'late for prayers, the postman brought him a noté from tlie faculty- 'an admonition.' lle dropped the pipe he was lighting, and boltetl olï to re-itation Hut he. 'deaded' immediately, and tha. discouraged him. He soon began to make light of the warniiig, ati.l did himself ao credit in his studies. Though lie managed to squeeze through the examinaron at the end of the f reshnian year, he eauie out lar down toward the foot of his classes. He wasn't quite contented with himself, and thouglit he'd try to do better the next year. Hut during the journey home recovered his usual sjiij-its. "When he walked up the villa) toward the parsonage farm he wi thinking that - since he was a Boph more novv - he would Imy the knottiest uid biggest headed cane in Cambridge whi'ii he sliould go back there. Au what do you suppose was tlie firs tliiiig thiit mei liini at home? It wa his father out in tlie field digging fo new potatoes, and spectacled face pei spiring. The sight struck shame into he boy. TIe vaulted the fence, and unning up with hardly i pause for gi-eeting, cried; "Oh, father, let me do that. I dön't ike to see you at work." "Mr. {Jlake 3topped, and looked earnstly and rather sadly at him." " Well, fSam, I think that's about as ood a how'd ye do as you could have oflered me. There is riglit about you after all." " It liad not occurred to Sam tliat there was any doubt on that point before. He blushed as he asked: " Where's the hired man ? " "I'vedischargedhim. I can't afford one at present, my son," was the answer. "Sam was rather puzzled, and begin to reflect. "They went into tlie house, and there, when the minister reappeared after making his toilet, his son noticed that lie wore the old shabby, shiny coat. At this he was more tlian ever astonished. Tlie supper, also, notwilhstanding that it was the lirst night of tlie prodigai's return, was very meager. Xot a single luxury was on the fcable, and Sam observed that his father and mother took no and butter. His own appetite began to fail at seeing this, and his perception was sharpened aceordingly. He was now aware that his father loobed veiy thin as well as sad. Suddenly he laid down bia knife and exclaimed to liis sister Katy: "Sis, what does all this mean - tliis going without the hired m;tn, and starving yourselves? " "His sister looked at hhii, tlien glanced at Mr. Blake and her mother, and made no answer. "I thought," said Sam, petulantly, " that Williston's money was going to tnftke it easy fcir you, lather; and licif the pinehing is going on five times worse than ever." " I don't own niy friehd Williston's money," said the minister, quid ly. "Of course not. But the flve hundred dol" Sinnstopped &1ruptly on ui entreating gestare from his sister. " Tlie subject was not reiiewed. But before he went to bed Sara obtained an interview witb liis ifetet alune. He i'elt secretly that lie wns responsilile for the depression and trouble wliicli seeined to fill tlie liousehold, luit that onlv made hini apeak moreimpetuously. ■■ 'oy, sis' he began, "can I get two words if sense out of you ? " "Not until yon ;isk politely," sin replied. ' Well, then, pleasè teil me wtaal the niystery is." " It oughtn't to he ;i mystery to you. Bant, thiit yon haven't done well at college. Papa is terríbly disappointed." "I doii't see why lie sliould coiiniiit suicide if he is," Saín retorteil. " J haven't cost him ínuch this year." " Oh, yes, yon have. Do you know he actually sokl his new coat y" "Why?" Saín frowned. "Beoaiise he has been trying eveiy way to save money smee lie began tu receive reporta of how you were wasting your time." " What for ? " asked Sam, tliough he began to suspect. " Well, he - how should I know ? - Don't you see? Ile's aslnmied to have had that nioney i'roin his old classmate, and he's ñearly saved enougn, and he's going to pay it all back. Then, I was to keep it secret, and now I've. told you." And his sister liurst into tears. "You've nearly broken liis heart, Sani ■- poer papa." " Tlie next day Mr. Blake's sou went off directly nf'ter bivak fast, and wasnot Been again till afternoon. Coming back he overtook his father coming from the post-otlice. "I know all about it!" he exclaiined in his excitement. "Katy told me last night. I wish, thoiigh. you'd held to the new coat fot awhile!" " VVhy 'i " asked Mr. Blake, imperturbably. " Because," said Sam, "I'm going to pay niy own way now. I"ve been off to-day, and birèa out ïor season to farmer Hedgeburton. Yon wbn'tsend that niimey to Williston, willyou, father?" "Yon are too late, was the minister 's answer, I have just mailed the letter to him." In f'act next day the kind ïneichant's eyes were dimmed as he read these words: "Dear Wiljiston: My dear boy - it alinost breaks my heart to say luis not proved worthy of your generosity. I have decided to return the suiu you sent me tor his last year, and you will find a draft enclosed tor that amount. Hi.akic." Ilere I interruptèd the narrator. "Doesn't this story prove vvhal I said at tlie beginning?" ] asked. " N'o; tor that isn't the end of it." Sam went down to Boston in the autuimi witli a few dollars of eaminga i! liis pocket. He had decided to give. up college, and so applied to Mr. Villiston for a clerkship. He told him : ■ I proved hivself nnwortliy as my i'atlicr said. Xow give me a chance to slimv myself worthy." " Williston gave him a position and lic woi'ked tbei'e, two enrs. TlttSÉ all opportunity olïered to go west and take a partnership in whaí do yon tTiink? The clothing business! Sam jumjed a! it; and you niay believe he sent his fatlier next Christmas the linest coat the concern could produce. "I am a well-to-do man now, sir." continued my accjuaintance, suddenlv speaking in tlie tirst person, "and, when we get to Chicago, it' yon will come to my establishment I will show you my father's (the minister) old shiny coat, which 1 preserved because it was the beginning of a fortune and made a man of me." Then," I exclaimed, takinf hün b y the hand, " it is yoursolf you have heen talking abont all this time." Y on are "Sam," continued my new frietul, ntxlding and smiling.