THE YOUNG MINISTER.
BY EMMA ST. CLAIR.
As Mr. Melville and his wife were one day travelling in the country, chance (if that be not an unmeaning word) led them by an obscure hovel, whose squalid appearance attracting the curiosity of the lady, she expressed a wish that the servant might stop the carriage, while they amused themselves a few moments by entering the dwelling. Mr. Melville consented. They entered, and beheld around a sort of table, seven children and a mother partaking of their meagre fare with the zeal of epicures. Every thing in the room bespoke the most abject poverty; and the lady, though a votary of fashion, found her idle curiosity put to flight by the awakening of benevolence, which birth, wealth and luxury had too long permitted to slumber. But the gentleman's attention was particularly arrested by one of the little boys, who struck him as bearing a peculiar resemblance to the son of his hope, whom the grave had but recently wrested from him. He remarked this to his wife, and suggested taking the boy away with them, and adopting him into their family. The lady at first objected, but the native goodness of her heart triumphed, and she acquiesced in her husband's wish—" though," said she, he has not a spark of intelligence in his countenance, and I fear never will have other than that vacant look which appalls me."
"Hush!" said the husband, "he has a head of the finest moulding, and if spirit cannot use the materials nature has stored there, it will be because her artificial forms deny it."
The proposal was accordingly made to the mother, who was easily prevailed upon to part with the child by assurances of kind treatment, and some assistance given to help her along in her rugged path. The boy apparently took no notice of any thing around him until reaching the home of his benefactors, (a beautiful residence on the banks of the ——,) when he clung to the gentleman as if oppressed with awe at the undreamed of splendor of things around him; while a little girl, (the only child of the parents) bounded into the arms of the mother like a little cherub. At seeing her the boy clung still closer to the gentleman, as if a being from another sphere had met his vision. The little girl at first gave him but a curious glance, but when arrayed after the manner of her little brother, she ran up to him saying, "why didn't you kiss me, Frank?—I didn't know you, you been gone so long! Do you love me, now? you kissed me when you went away." The mother sobbed audibly at the thought so vividly renewed of her lost Francis, but was glad to see the child so happily deceived.
Francis Melville (for such was the name they gave him) soon became a handsome boy, and the heart of his protector was drawn out toward him with all the fervor it would have been for his own son, as he witnessed the "early stirrings" of a mind which he deemed cast in no common mould.
When his portegee had attained the age of ten years, Mr. Melville resolved on sending him to a public school, as he could not devote that time to the boy which he knew should be devoted to him.
The time soon came when he was to depart for the academic groves of——, and sad was the day to the whole family circle—especially to its youngest member, whose tears flowed fast as he gave her the parting kiss with unusual fervor. "Now, my dear Arabella," said the father, when he had left the parental roof, "now we will see who in seven years will make the most improvement—who at nineteen will be the most accomplished in the truest acceptation of the term."
Kind, frequent letters came from the boy, which showed the true and generous heart, as well as the rising scholar. The time at length came when he was at which, to be removed to the University of ——, after spending the usual time, he was to choose whatever field of action his talent and inclination might lead him to; for his benefactor, though never disclosing to him that he was other than his own son, had always impressed it upon him that he had his own fortune to make in the world, and that he had nothing to expect from him in his own life-time at least, but enough to enable him unfettered to pursue the path to usefulness and honor-the path which by securing to him these riches which are beyond fortune, might give him the means of obtaining for himself these which are within its reach. And never was that path pursued with more unwavering industry-never were the honors of our University bestowed upon one with a more prodigal hand.
When his collegiate term had expired, he returned to the generous home of his adopted parents, which he had visited but once since leaving it for the first time, when he found, as now, his sister absent in town, where she was receiving her education. This was severely trying to him, for his mind released from study, he had depended much upon the presence of his sister to restore the tone of his feelings, which a too severe application had in a great measure impaired. But necessity was imperative; and he left again to pursue a Theological course (which he had long been bent upon) without seeing her, whose image in its hallowed brightness had hitherto preserved his thoughts from wandering. Mrs. Melville expressed much regret that the children could not see each other; but her husband had too much sincerity of heart to express any regret at what was but the effect of his own design. Arabella had often wondered and wept that she could see no more of an only
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