Who Are Happiest? and Other Stories. Arthur Timothy Shay
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Who Are Happiest? and Other Stories
INTRODUCTION
In this volume, the stories are not illustrative of childish experiences. Most of the actors are men and women,—and the trials and temptations to which they are subjected, such as are experienced in mature life. Their object is to fix in the young mind, by familiar illustrations, principles of action for the future. While several of the volumes in this series will be addressed to children as children, others, like this one, will be addressed to them as our future men and women, toward which estate they are rapidly progressing, and in which they will need for their guidance all things good and true that can be stored up in their memories.
WHO ARE HAPPIEST?
"What troubles you, William?" said Mrs. Aiken, speaking in a tone of kind concern to her husband, who sat silent and moody, with his eyes now fixed upon the floor, and now following the forms of his plainly-clad children as they sported, full of health and spirits, about the room.
It was evening, and Mr. Aiken, a man who earned his bread by the sweat of his brow, had, a little while before, returned from his daily labour.
No answer was made to the wife's question. A few minutes went by, and then she spoke again:
"Is any thing wrong with you, William?"
"Nothing more than usual," was replied. "There's always something wrong. The fact is, I'm out of heart."
"William!"
Mrs. Aiken came and stood beside her husband, and laid her hand gently upon his shoulder.
The evil spirit of envy and discontent was in the poor man's heart,—this his wife understood right well. She had often before seen him in this frame of mind.
"I'm as good as Freeman; am I not?"
"Yes, and a great deal better, I hope," replied Mrs. Aiken.
"And yet he is rolling in wealth, while I, though compelled to toil early and late, can scarcely keep soul and body together."
"Hush, William! Don't talk so. It does you no good. We have a comfortable home, with food and raiment,—let us therewith be contented and thankful."
"Thankful for this mean hut! Thankful for hard labour, poor fare, and coarse clothing!"
"None are so happy as those who labour; none enjoy better health than they who have only the plainest food. Do you ever go hungry to bed, William?"
"No, of course not."
"Do you or your children shiver in the cold of winter for lack of warm clothing?"
"No; but"–
"William! Do not look past your real comforts in envy of the blessings God has given to others. Depend upon it, we receive all of this world's goods the kind Father above sees best for us to have. With more, we might not be so happy as we are."
"I'll take all that risk," said Mr. Aiken. "Give me plenty of money, and I'll find a way to largely increase the bounds of enjoyment."
"The largest amount of happiness, I believe, is ever to be found in that condition wherein God had placed us."
"Then every poor man should willingly remain poor!"
"I did not say that, William: I think every man should seek earnestly to improve his worldly affairs—yet, be contented with his lot at all times; for, only in contentment is there happiness, and this is a blessing the poor may share equally with the rich. Indeed, I believe the poor have this blessing in larger store. You, for instance, are a happier man than Mr. Freeman."
"I'm not so sure of that."
"I am, then. Look at his face. Doesn't that tell the story? Would you exchange with him in every respect?"
"No, not in every respect. I would like to have his money."
"Ah, William! William!" Mrs. Aiken shook her head. "You are giving place in your heart for the entrance of bad spirits. Try to enjoy, fully, what you have, and you will be a far happier man than Mr. Freeman. Your sleep is sound at night."
"I know. A man who labours as hard as I do, can't help sleeping soundly."
"Then labour is a blessing, if for nothing else. I took home, to-day, a couple of aprons made for Mrs. Freeman. She looked pale and troubled, and I asked her if she were not well."
"'Not very,' she replied. 'I've lost so much rest of late, that I'm almost worn out.'
"I did not ask why this was; but, after remaining silent for a few moments, she said—
"'Mr. Freeman has got himself so excited about business, that he sleeps scarcely three hours in the twenty-four. He cares neither for eating nor drinking; and, if I did not watch him, would scarcely appear abroad in decent apparel. Hardly a day passes that something does not go wrong. Workmen fail in their contracts, prices fall below what he expected them to be, and agents prove unfaithful; in fact, a hundred things occur to interfere with his expectations, and to cloud his mind with disappointment. We were far happier when we were poor, Mrs. Aiken. There was a time when we enjoyed this life. Bright days!—how well are they remembered! Mr. Freeman's income was twelve dollars a week; we lived in two rooms, and I did all our own work. I had fewer wants then than I have ever had since, and was far happier than I ever expect to be again on this side of the grave.'"
Just then a cry was heard in the street.
"Hark!" exclaimed Mr. Aiken.
"Fire! Fire! Fire!" The startling sound rose clear and shrill upon the air.
Mr. Aiken sprang to the window and threw it open.
"Mr. Freeman's new building, as I live!"
Mr. Aiken dropped the window, and catching up his hat, hurriedly left the house.
MR. AIKEN'S RETURN FROM THE FIRE.
It was an hour ere he returned. Meanwhile the fire raged furiously, and from her window, where she was safe from harm, Mrs. Aiken saw the large new factory, which the rich man had just erected, entirely consumed by the fierce, devouring element. All in vain was it that the intrepid firemen wrought almost miracles of daring, in their efforts to save the building. Story after story were successively wrapped in flames, until, at length, over fifty thousand dollars worth of property lay a heap of black and smouldering ruins.
Wet to the skin, and covered with cinders, was Mr. Aiken when he returned to his humble abode, after having worked manfully, in his unselfish efforts to rescue a portion of his neighbour's property from destruction.
"Poor Freeman! I pity him from my very heart!" was his generous, sympathising exclamation, as soon as he met his wife.
"He is insured, is he not?" inquired Mrs. Aiken.
"Partially. But even a full insurance would be a poor compensation for such a loss. In less than two weeks, this new factory, with all its perfect and beautiful machinery, would have been in operation. The price of goods is now high, and Mr. Freeman would have cleared a handsome sum of money on the first season's product of his mill. It is a terrible disappointment for him. I never saw a man so much disturbed."
"Poor man! His sleep will not be so sound as yours, to-night, William."
"Indeed it will not."
"Nor, rich as he is, will he be as happy as you, to-morrow."
"If I were as rich as he is," said Mr. Aiken, "I would not fret myself to death for this loss. I would, rather, be thankful for the wealth still left in my possession."
Mrs. Aiken shook her head.
"No, William, the same spirit that makes you restless and discontented now, would be with you, no matter how greatly improved might be your external condition. Mr. Freeman was once as poor as you are. Do you think him happier for his riches? Does he enjoy life more? Has wealth brought a greater freedom from care? Has it made his sleep sweeter? Far, very far from it. Riches have but increased the sources of discontent."
"This