THE LAST SIXPENCE.

Samoa Times and South Sea Gazette, Issue 30, 27 April 1878, Page 4

THE LAST SIXPENCE.

It was on a chill, bleak morning in November that Charles Aubrey emerged from an old shed where he had passed the last part of the night under a pile of sheepskins. As young Aubrey stood there now, his lips were parched, and his limbs shook as though with the palsy. He mechanically placed his hand in his pocket, and took therefrom a sixpence. He searched further—but he could find no more. That single sixpence was the last of his fortune.

" Ah, Charley, Charley," he murmured to himself, "you've run your race. Where now arc the friends who have so long hung about you ? One poor sixpence ! It will buy me one glass of grog to allay my burning thirst Oh ! would to God it would buy me one true friend!"

Ho raised his eyes, and beheld an old woman, with bended back, who came tottering on slowly, tremblingly. Her garments were torn and tattered, and the thin, grey hair hung matted and uncombed. She stopped when she came to where the youth stood and leaned heavily upon her staff. "Charity, good sir I" she uttered, in hoaree, tremulous tones. " Give me wherewith to purchase a singlo meal, and I'll ask God to bless thee."

" By my life, good woman, you are the very one f have been wishing for. Hero —it is all I have—it is my last sixpence 1 Tako it. I have only wished that it could buy me one true friend." "But what good could como of that while you continue to curse yourself ? " The youth started, but he spoke not. " If you would have mo for a friend, will you listen to me as a friend ? " " Listen ? Yes." ,

" Then lot this be your lowest vale of life," said the woman, with startling solemnity. " Turn now and go up, up, until you have reached the su-ishino once more. I knew your mother, Charles Aubrey, and I remember well how kind sho was. Oh, did oho over think, that her well-beloved son would sink so low I" " Stop, stop," groanod tho unhappy youth. " Oh, who hIiuII give mo the first lift to regain all 1 have lost ?" " I will."

'• You ? Who arc you i You you kucw my mother. Who are you ? " " Never mind. Suffice it for you to know that I have suffered as deeply as you ever did. I know what it is to suffer. I say I can give you the first lift I mean by that I can show you the way. Follow iny counsel, and you may yet recover all that you have lost" " No, no, not all. Oh, there is one loss I can never make up." And as he spoke he bowed his head and covered his face with his hands.

" Let no such feelings be with you now. First resolve that you will turn from the evil that has brought you down. You know what it is as well as I do. Can you do this ?"

" Ay, I had done it ere you came up." " Then take the next step. Go and make a friend who can help you further. Oo to Amos Williams and— " " No, not there—oh, not there • " interrupted Charles. " Go to his store and freely confess to him all your faults," resumed the woman, without seeming to notice the interruption. " Tell him all, and then ask him to trust you once more." " No, no, I dare not go to him." " But listen. I heard Mr. Williams say with his own lips thnt he would help you if he could ; that ho would give you his hand if you would only help yourself." "Did he say that?" uttered Charles, eagerly. " lie did. And now, Charles Aubrey, be assured that you have not lost everything. Let people know that you mean to arise and be a man, and all whoso friendship is worth having will give you their hands. Co to Amos Williams first." " I will gn." "Then give me the sixpence." . »,«♦••...♦

' Amos Williams stood at the great desk in his counting-room, and lie was alone. While he thus stood, easting up a column of figures upon a page of one of the ledgers, the. door was opened and Charles Aubrey entered. He was yet pale and haggard, and looked as he did whon we saw him two hours ago. The merchant started back with an utterance of pain and surprise as he recognised in the miserable form before him the once happy and beloved youth whom he had delighted to honor. " Charles," he uttered, as soon as he could command his speech, " why have you come here." " Mr. Williams." spoke the youth in a choking voice, " I have come to —to tell you that my course of wickedness is run. and from this moment I am—a— "

Here he stopped. Ho hesitated a moment,- and then his feelings overcame him, and bowing his head he buret into tears, and sobs, loud and deep, broke from his lips. The merchant was deeply affected, and with the warm tears gathering thickly in his own eyes, he started forward and placed his hand upon the youth's head. " Charles," he uttered in a tremulous, eager voice, " have you resolved to be a man ?"

" With God's help I will be a man again ' " was the youth's reply. " Is your money all gone ? "Yes, sir. This morning I had one solitary sixpenco left, and that I gave to a poor old woman who bade me to come here."

" Ay, I know her. She is on unforunate creature and has suffered much. I bade her, if she saw you, and you were cast down and repentant, to send you here, for I heard yesterday that you, were at the foot of the precipice. Now, if you are determined, you shall not want for help." In eager, broken, sobbing sentences, Charles poured out his thanks, and stated the resolution he had taken. " And now," said Mr. Williams, after the matter had been talked over, "we must find a place where you can recruit your strength a little before you try to work. There is my brother, who owns a farm out in M . Ho would be glad to have you come there and stop awhile; and when you wholly recover your wasted strength you shall have a place here.

At first the youth refused to accept so much, for ho knew his unworthiness ; but the merchant simply answered him: " You can pay mo for all this if you choose, so you need not be delicate about it; an.l as for your unworthiness, when the lost ones of earth are not worth redeeming, then some other standard of worth must be regarded than that simple one which Jesus of Nazareth gave to his followers." So it was settled that Charles should go into tho country and remain awhile. Ho found Mr. Williams, the brother, ready and happy to receive him, and there he soon began to regain his health and spirits. In two weeks ho was as strong as over, and at the end of a month the marks of dissipation had all left his face. Then he returned to town, and entered the store. Amos Williams gave him a lucrative station, and bade him remember nothing of the past save the one great lesson he had learned. " Charles," ho said, "you know widow Swan ?" " Yen, sir."

" Well, I have engaged board for you there. I hope tho arrangement will suit you." " Yea, sir," returned the youth, with emotion.

From that time Charles Aubroy wont on nobly and truly 'n tho path ho had marked out.

Little did Charles Aubroy know how closely ho had boon watched. Mr. Williams knew his every movement, oven

to his prayers winch he poured forth in the privacy of hia own apartment. Thus passed away three months, and at the end of that time Mr. Williams called the young man into the counting-room oue evening, after the rest of the public had cone. "Well, Charles," the merchant commenced, " how would you like to change your boarding-place 1" There was something in the look and tone of the man as he spoke these words that made the youth start. The blood rushed to his face, and anon he turned pale. "If you would like," the merchant resumed, in the same low, strange tone, " you may come and board with me. 1 will not deceive you, Charles. Until I could know that you would entirely reform, I dared not carry you to my house. But lam satisfied now. I have not doubted you, but I would prove you. And, now, if you please, you may inform Mrs. Swan that you shall board with her no more. She will not be disappointed, for I have spoken to her on the subject." With these words Mr. Williams left the store, and as soon as Charles could recover from the strange emotions that had almost overpowered him. he called for the porter to come and lock up, and then, having locked the great safe, he took his departure. On the next morning he came to the store, and when his employer came he informed his employer that lie had given I his notice to Mrs. Swan.

" Very well," returned the merchant. " This evening, then you will go home with me."

Evening came, and Charles Aubrey accompanied his old friend home. Tea was ready, the rest of the family having eaten an hour before. After tea Charles was conducted to the sitting-room, where Mr. Williams informed hun he could amuse himself by reading. Charles sat down there, and his employer went out, but he could not read. Thus he sat, when the door was slowly opened, and a female appeared within the apartment. With a quick stop he sprang forward, and, without a word, ho caught the fair girl to his bosom.

" Mary," he uttered, as he gazed into the sparkling eyes of the fair being who still clung fondly tojhim, " you still love me —you forgive me all—and trust me once moro ?"

" Yes," she murmured ; and ere she could speak further her father entered the room.

" Ah—so you've found him, have you, Mary ?" ho cried, in a happy, joyous tone.

" Air. Williams," uttered Charles, still holding Mary by the hand, and speaking with difficulty, " I hope I am not deceived. Oh, you have not brought me here to kill me ! You cannot have passed this cup to my lips only to dash it away again ! "Of course not," returned the merchant. "But you must know now the whole truth, and for fear my children may not tell you all, I'll tell you myself. This noble girl has never ceased to love you, and when you were the lowest down, she loved you the most. She came to me and asked me if she might save you if she could. I could not tell her nay, and she went at the work. She has suffered much, and, Charles, it remains with you to decide whether her future shall be one of happiness or not. She knew that you were down, that your money was gone, and that your false friends had forsaken you. Then it was that her love for you grew bold and strong. She wondered if you would repulse her. She knew not what might be your feelings, and to save herself the pain of a direct repulse from you she assumed a disguise, so that she might approach you without being known, and yet gain some idea of your feelings, and save yon if she could. I think she has done well. At any rate she has regained you to herself, and it must now bo your own fault if the silken tie is loosed again. With these words the fathor left the apartment ." You, Maiy ? you in disguise ? " queried Charles, as soon as he could speak. "Ay, dear Charles; and you know why I did it. Hero —do you not remember it ? " And as she spoke she drew from her bosom a small silken purse, and took therefrom a sixpence. The youth recognised it in an instant. "Oh I" he oried, as he strained the noble girl to his bosom, "what can I eay ? Mary, Mary—my heart's truest love—let my life in the years to come tell my gratitude. Oh I my all of life is yours, and my last breath shall bear your name in gratitude to God." And Charles Aubrey never forgot his promise. With his noble companion by his side he travelled up the hill, and in his path the flowers of life grew thick and fragrant Upon the wall of his sitting-room hangs a picture. It is a splendid painting of the Prodigal Son's Return. Upon the face of a heavy gilt frame visitors notice a small blemish, but which, upon closer examination, proves to bo a small silver coin. Our readers need not bo told why that bit of metal is thus carefully preserved.