The happy thought, suggested by Samuel Lynn, Jane carried out. She in person to Mr. Peach, and he obtained an entrance for Frank to the college school, with a promise for Gar to enter at quarter-day, the 25th of March. He was thunderstruck when he found that his old friend and tutor, Mr. Halliburton, was dead; had died in Helstonleigh; and that he—he!—had buried him. There was no need to ask him twice, after that, to exert his interest for the fatherless children. The school (I have told you what it was many years ago) was not held in the highest repute, from the reason spoken of by Samuel Lynn; often occurred, and admission was easy. It was one great weight off Jane's mind.
William was not so fortunate. He was at that period very short for his age, timid in manner, and no office could be persuaded to take him. Nothing in the least congenial to him presented itself or could be found; and the result was that he resigned himself to Samuel Lynn, who introduced him to Mr. Ashley's extensive manufactory—to be by degrees into all the mysteries necessary to convert a skin into a glove. And although his interest and curiosity were excited by what he saw, he pronounced it a "hateful" business.
When the skins came in from the leather-dressers they were washed in a tub of cold water. The next day warm water, mixed with yolks of eggs, was poured on them, and a couple of men, bare-legged to the knee, got into the tub, and danced upon them, skins, eggs, and water, for two hours. Then they were spread in a field to dry, till they were as hard as lantern horn; then they were "staked," as it was called—a long process, to smooth and them. To the stainers next, to be stained black or coloured; next to the parers, to have the loose flesh pared from the inside, and to be smoothed again with pumice-stone—all this being done on the outside . Then they came inside, to the hands of one of the foremen, who sorted and marked them for the cutters. The cutters cut the skins into tranks (the shape of the hand in outline) with the separate thumbs and forgits, and sent them in to the slitters. The slitters the four fingers, and shaped the thumbs and forgits: after that, they were ready for the women—three different women, you may remember, being necessary to turn out each glove, so far as the sewing went; for one woman rarely worked at more than her own branch, or was capable of working at it. This done, and back in the manufactory again, they had to be pulled straight, and "padded," or rubbed, a process by which they were brightened. If black gloves, the seams were washed over with a black dye, or else ; then they were hung up to dry. This done, they went into Samuel Lynn's room, a large room next to Mr. Ashley's private room, and here they were sorted into firsts, seconds, or thirds; the sorting being always done by Samuel Lynn, or by James Meeking the head foreman. It was called "making-up." Next they were banded round with a paper in dozens, labelled, and placed in small boxes, ready for the in London. A great deal, you see, before one pair of gloves could be turned out.
The first morning that William went at six o'clock with Samuel Lynn, he was ordered to light the fire in Mr. Ashley's room, sweep it out, and dust it, first of all sprinkling the floor with water from a watering-pot. And this was to be part of his work every morning at present; Samuel Lynn giving him strict charge never to disturb anything on Mr. Ashley's desk. If he moved things to dust the desk, he was to lay them down again in the same places and in the same position. The duster consisted of some leather tied up into a knot, the ends loose. He found he should have to wait on Mr. Ashley and Samuel Lynn, bring things they wanted, carry messages to the men, and go out when sent. A pair of , which he could not manage, was put into his hand, and he had to cut a damaged skin, useless for gloves, into narrow strips, at one of the counters in Samuel Lynn's room. William wondered whether they were to make another duster, but he found they were used in the manufactory in place of string. That done, a round, polished stick was handed to him, at either end, which he had to pass over and over some small gloves to make them smooth, after the manner of a cook rolling out paste for a pie. He looked with dismay at the two young errand boys of the establishment, who were black with dye. But Samuel Lynn had distinctly told him that he would not be expected to place himself on their level. The rooms were for the most part very light, one or two sides being of glass.
On the evening of this first day, William, after he got home, sat there in sad heaviness. His mother asked how he liked his employment, and he returned an evasive answer. Presently he rose to go to bed, saying he had a headache. Up he went to the garret, and flung himself down on the , as if his heart would break. Jane, suspecting something of this, followed him up. She caught him in her arms.
"Oh, my darling, don't give way! Things may grow brighter after a time."
"It is such a dreadful change!—from my books, my Latin and Greek, to go there and sweep out places like those two black boys!" he said , all his gone.
"My dear boy! my darling boy! I know not how to reconcile you, how to your cares. Your experience of the sorrow of life is beginning early. You are hungry, too."
"I am always hungry," answered William, quite unable to affect in that hour of grief. "I heard one of those black boys say he had boiled pork and greens for dinner. I did so envy him."
Jane checked her tears; they were rising . "William, darling your lot seems just now very dark and painful, but it might be worse."
"Worse!" he echoed in surprise. "How could it be worse? Mamma, I am no better than an errand-boy there."
"It would be worse, William, if you were one of those poor black boys. Unenlightened; no wish for higher things; content to remain as they are for ever."
"But that could never be," he urged. "To be content with such a life is impossible."
"They are content, William."
He saw the drift of the argument. "Yes, mamma," he acknowledged; "I did not reflect. It would be worse if I were quite as they are."
"William, we can only bear our difficulties, and make the best of them, trusting to them in the end. You and I must both do this. Trust is different from hope. If we only hope, we may lose courage; but if we and freely trust, we cannot. Patience and , endurance and trust, they will in the end triumph; never fear. If I feared, William, I should go into the grave with despair. I never lose my trust. I never lose my conviction, firm and certain, that God is watching over me, that He is permitting these trials for some wise purpose, and that in His own good time we shall be brought through them."
William's were growing .
"The time may come when we shall be at ease again," continued Jane; "when we shall look back on this time of trial, and be thankful that we did bear up and surmount it, instead of fainting under the burden. God will take care that the battle is not too hot for us, if we only resign ourselves, in all trust, to do the best. The future is grievously dim and indistinct. As the guiding light in yo............