The Garies and Their Friends Part 42

"Yes, sir, and here it is," said she, extending it to him.

Mr. Twining glanced over it, and remarked, "This is your writing, Western;"

then taking Charlie's letter from the desk of Mr. Western, he asked, in a doubting tone, "Is this your own writing and composition?"

"My own writing and composing," answered Charlie.

"And it is vewy cweditable to you, indeed," said Mr. Western.

Both the gentlemen looked at the note again, then at Charlie, then at Esther, and lastly at each other; but neither seemed able to say anything, and evident embarra.s.sment existed on both sides.

"And so you thought you would twy for the situation," at last remarked Mr.

Western to Charlie.

"Yes, sir," he answered. "I was and am very anxious to obtain some employment." "Have you a father?" asked Mr. Twining.

"Yes, sir; but he was badly injured by the mob last summer, and will never be able to work again."

"That's a pity," said Western, sympathisingly; "and what have you been doing?"

"Nothing very recently. I broke my arm last spring, and was obliged to go into the country for my health. I have not long returned."

"Do your pawents keep house?"

"Not at present. We are staying with a friend. Our house was burned down by the rioters."

This conversation recalled so vividly their past trials, that Esther's eyes grew watery, and she dropped her veil to conceal a tear that was trembling on the lid.

"How vewy unfortunate!" said Mr. Western, sympathisingly; "vewy twying, indeed!" then burying his chin in his hand, he sat silently regarding them for a moment or two.

"Have you come to any decision about taking him?" Esther at last ventured to ask of Mr. Twining.

"Taking him!--oh, dear me, I had almost forgot. Charles, let me see you write something--here, take this seat."

Charlie sat down as directed, and dashed off a few lines, which he handed to Mr. Twining, who looked at it over and over; then rising, he beckoned to his partner to follow him into an adjoining room.

"Well, what do you say?" asked Western, after they had closed the door behind them. "Don't you think we had better engage him?"

"Engage _him_!" exclaimed Twining--"why, you surprise me, Western--the thing's absurd; engage a coloured boy as under clerk! I never heard of such a thing."

"I have often," drawled Western; "there are the gweatest number of them in New Orleans."

"Ah, but New Orleans is a different place; such a thing never occurred in Philadelphia."

"Well, let us cweate a pwecedent, then. The boy wites wemarkably well, and will, no doubt, suit us exactly. It will be a chawity to take him. We need not care what others say--evewybody knows who we are and what we are?"

"No, Western; I know the North better than you do; it wouldn't answer at all here. We cannot take the boy--it is impossible; it would create a rumpus amongst the clerks, who would all feel dreadfully insulted by our placing a n.i.g.g.e.r child on an equality with them. I a.s.sure you the thing is out of the question."

"Well, I must say you Northern people are perfectly incompwehensible. You pay taxes to have n.i.g.g.e.rs educated, and made fit for such places--and then won't let them fill them when they are pwepared to do so. I shall leave you, then, to tell them we can't take him. I'm doosed sowwy for it--I like his looks."

Whilst Mr. Western and his partner were discussing in one room, Charlie and Esther were awaiting with some anxiety their decision in the other.

"I think they are going to take me," said Charlie; "you saw how struck they appeared to be with the writing."

"They admired it, I know, my dear; but don't be too sanguine."

"I feel _sure_ they are going to take me," repeated he with a hopeful countenance.

Esther made no reply, and they remained in silence until Mr. Twining returned to the room.

After two or three preparatory ahems, he said to Esther; "I should like to take your brother very much; but you see, in consequence of there being so much excitement just now, relative to Abolitionism and kindred subjects, that my partner and myself--that is, I and Mr. Western--think--or rather feel--that just now it would be rather awkward for us to receive him. We should like to take him; but his _colour_, miss--his complexion is a _fatal_ objection. It grieves me to be obliged to tell you this; but I think, under the circ.u.mstances, it would be most prudent for us to decline to receive him. We are _very_ sorry--but our clerks are all young men, and have a great deal of prejudice, and I am sure he would be neither comfortable nor happy with them. If I can serve you in any other way--"

"There is nothing that you can do that I am aware of," said Esther, rising; "I thank you, and am sorry that we have occupied so much of your time."

"Oh, don't mention it," said Mr. Twining, evidently happy to get rid of them; and, opening the door, he bowed them out of the office.

The two departed sadly, and they walked on for some distance in silence. At last Esther pressed his hand, and, in a choking voice, exclaimed, "Charlie, my dear boy, I'd give my life if it would change your complexion--if it would make you white! Poor fellow! your battle of life will be a hard one to fight!"

"I know it, Ess; but I shouldn't care to be white if I knew I would not have a dear old Ess like you for a sister," he answered, pressing her hand affectionately. "I don't intend to be conquered," he continued; "I'll fight it out to the last--this won't discourage me. I'll keep on trying," said he, determinedly--"if one won't, perhaps another will."

For two or three days Charlie could hear of nothing that would be at all suitable for him. At last, one morning he saw an advertis.e.m.e.nt for a youth to learn the engraver's business--one who had some knowledge of drawing preferred; to apply at Thomas Blatchford's, bank-note engraver. "Thomas Blatchford," repeated Mr. Walters, as Charlie read it over--"why that is _the_ Mr. Blatchford, the Abolitionist. I think you have some chance there most decidedly--I would advise you to take those sketches of yours and apply at once."

Charlie ran upstairs, and selecting the best-executed of his drawings, put them in a neat portfolio, and, without saying anything to Esther or his mother, hastened away to Mr. Blatchford's. He was shown into a room where a gentleman was sitting at a table examining some engraved plates. "Is this Mr. Blatchford's?" asked Charlie.

"That is my name, my little man--do you want to see me," he kindly inquired.

"Yes, sir. You advertised for a boy to learn the engraving business, I believe."

"Well; and what then?"

"I have come to apply for the situation."

"_You--you_ apply?" said he, in a tone of surprise.

"Yes, sir," faltered Charlie; "Mr. Walters recommended me to do so."

"Ah, you know Mr. Walters, then," he rejoined.

"Yes, sir; he is a great friend of my father's--we are living with him at present."

"What have you in your portfolio, there?" enquired Mr. Blatchford. Charlie spread before him the sketches he had made during the summer, and also some ornamental designs suitable for the t.i.tle-pages of books. "Why, these are excellently well done," exclaimed he, after examining them attentively; "who taught you?"

Charlie hereupon briefly related his acquaintance with the artist, and his efforts to obtain employment, and their results, besides many other circ.u.mstances connected with himself and family. Mr. Blatchford became deeply interested, and, at the end of a long conversation, delighted Charlie by informing him that if he and his mother could agree as to terms he should be glad to receive him as an apprentice.

Charlie could scarcely believe the evidence of his own ears, and leaving his portfolio on the table was hastening away.

"Stop! stop!" cried Mr. Blatchford, with a smile; "you have not heard all I wish to say. I would be much obliged to your mother if she would call at my house this evening, and then we can settle the matter definitely."

Charlie seemed to tread on air as he walked home. Flying up to Esther--his usual confidant--be related to her the whole affair, and gave at great length his conversation with Mr. Blatchford.