Drifted ashore; $b or, a child without a nameEverett-Green, Evelyn
General
Drifted ashore; $b or, a child without a name
Everett-Green, Evelyn
Amnesia -- Fiction; Boys -- Fiction; Christian life -- Fiction; Foundlings -- Fiction
The Squire spoke in slow, measured tones. He looked straight before him
into the fire, and his voice had a dreamy, far-away sound, as the voice
of one who is lost in the depths of his own thoughts and memories.
Bertie, sitting upon the Squire’s knee, drew the encircling arm more
closely about him, and rested his head against the kindly shoulder that
gave it such comfortable support.
“I like to know everything about you,” he said, softly, “and about all
of them. I know a great deal, but not quite all. I want to know why you
wrote ‘Thy will be done.’”
The subtle sympathy that existed between the man and the child made
Bertie’s thought clear to the Squire. He understood the child’s meaning,
and saw that he had himself been understood.
“You want to know how I learned my lesson, Bertie? Very well, you shall
hear.”
He paused; but Bertie said nothing, and after a long silence the Squire
commenced his tale.
“I was an only child, and my parents were all that is kind and wise and
judicious. I was not spoiled, and yet I had every reasonable indulgence,
and I was very happy. I was brought up in the fear and love of God, as
well as in the earnest wish to do my duty to my fellow-creatures,
especially to those who lived about me, and were, or would be, in a
measure dependent upon me for their daily bread. I was never inclined to
treat such matters lightly, accepted the teaching my parents gave me
readily and sincerely, and I never felt tempted to wander from the
beaten track that my forefathers had trodden. I had a very happy,
untroubled youth, and life was very bright before and around me. I was
kind-hearted and generous, a favorite with our people, and if I had ever
been questioned upon the subject, I suppose I should have said that I
was doing my best to live the life of a Christian gentleman. I was not
in the least aware that there was nothing personal in my religion. I had
accepted it from my father and mother in just the same fashion as I had
accepted their politics and their teaching upon a variety of subjects;
only, whereas I interested myself deeply in secular subjects, and
verified the wisdom of their views by practical experience of my own, I
was content in the matter of religion to take all upon trust, and accept
everything they said, because I had no reason to doubt their wisdom, and
because it was much easier to let them do the thinking for me than to do
it for myself.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account