Blade-O'-Grass. Golden Grain. and Bread and Cheese and Kisses.Farjeon, B. L. (Benjamin Leopold)
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Blade-O'-Grass. Golden Grain. and Bread and Cheese and Kisses.
Farjeon, B. L. (Benjamin Leopold)
Christmas stories; Fiction
I had many opportunities of seeing Tom Beadle during his term of
imprisonment, and I soon became engaged in the contemplation of a
subject which has been studied and pondered over by thousands of
earnest minds, but never, I believe, with greater seriousness than at
the present time. Here was a man, with a man's strength, not unwilling
to do his work in the world, if he knew the way to do it. Of a low
type he certainly was, but he had grown into his condition through no
fault of his own. I penetrated the crust of his character, and I found
behind it much material which could be worked to a good end. Gradually
I won his confidence, and, in answer to certain remarks of mine
affecting his career and character, he answered me in plain terms and
with a rough shrewdness which greatly impressed me in his favour, I
saw that he was helpless; that, in this country, society could do
nothing for him, and that he would be utterly lost if he were left to
himself and his own resources. If he were lost, Blade-o'-Grass would
be lost also.
[Illustration]
'It will be a happy task accomplished,' I thought, 'if I can save
these two from the certain degradation which lies before them--if I
can make their after-life happy in an honourable way, and worthy of
the respect of men.'
Tom Beadle gave me a great proof of his confidence. I asked him to
allow Blade-o'-Grass to visit the Silvers and Ruth, and he consented
with but little pressure. I took care that she was frequently in one
or other of the houses. She liked best to be with Ruth and Ruth's
baby, whom she often begged to be allowed to nurse. I said to her one
day when she was in Ruth's house, having spent a few happy hours
there,
'If you and Tom had such a home as this----'
'It'd be like 'eaven, sir,' she answered. 'Don't speak of it, sir. It
breaks my 'eart to think of it!'
But I knew that the plan I had in view would give them such a home,
after a time, if they were willing to endure a present sacrifice. I
knew it from a letter which I had received from Canada a week after
Christmas. The letter was from Richard. I give it in its entirety:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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