p. 298 | OFF HIS BEAT by Eleanor Kirk

Seventh-day Adventist Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Jul 1, 1880

OFF HIS BEAT.

By Eleanor Kirk

Annie Carlton wished she was dead, and Maud, her sister, wished she had never been born. At least they said so, and both thought themselves honest, and not in the least wicked in giving utterance to such sentiments. Indeed, their trouble and disappointment were so great at this particular time, that if any girls were ever excusable for such thoughts—which is certainly very doubtful—these girls were. Little Susie Carlton, four years old, sobbed in her mother's arms, principally because her mother sobbed, and not because she had any well-grounded reason for doing so, as she was much too young to realize the dreadful misfortune that had overtaken the family.

Now, Mr. Carlton, the father of these lovely girls, had been a policeman ever since the children could remember. For some time he had been stationed on Broadway, and here, at a particular corner, he piloted young and old across the busy street, making friends with the little ones, and always, so far as known, doing his duty generously and bravely. Now he had lost his place, and this was the trouble that had overtaken these good people. Loss of position in this case meant not only less money, but actual poverty, unless something should happen by which Mr. Carlton might not remain long idle. Annie and Maud went to an excellent public school, always neatly and prettily dressed, and besides this, Maud was making considerable progress in music, and Annie was studying French with great interest. Mr. Carlton had been able to buy a pretty cottage piano for the girls, and at the time of his dismissal from police duty everything was as thrifty and harmonious as one could imagine. Mrs. Carlton thought this trouble would have been a great deal easier to bear if her husband had done anything to deserve it; but then Mrs. Carlton like her little girls, didn't quite understand what she was saying. This lady had every reason to be proud of her husband, for he was a man of the most thorough integrity, and had a great warm heart that endeared him to all whom he came in contact with. Little children nestled lovingly in his arms. Little girls on their way to school brought the policeman flowers, and little lips were as ready to meet his as they were to meet their father's or mother's. Sometimes Mr. Carlton didn't quite know what to do with all the flowers that were given him, for he couldn't wear more than one buttonhole boquet, and sometimes he had posies enough to make a dozen. The love in this man's heart was as plainly visible on his face as the shield on his breast and when this is the case, children are the first to observe it. One day a little girl, not more than eight years old, and one of the little ones who usually clung the closest to his hand, was returning from school, and in a moment of mischief and daring, darted into the middle of the crowded street alone. In less time than we can write it, she was knocked down and run over. The policeman, forgetful of everything but the accident, called a carriage and bore the unconscious child to the hospital, whither he knew from the nature of her injuries she must go. Her lower limbs were badly cut, and one leg was broken; but the surgeon thought it was not such a very bad case after all, and then the policeman drove as fast as he could to inform the little one's parents. Now, while Mr. Carlton was doing all this, a fight occurred on his beat, and because the officer was not on hand, and because of some jealousy, which was brought to bear upon the case, he was dismissed from the force.

"If I were father I would never be kind to any one again as long as I lived," said Maud, after she had reconciled herself a little to the thought of being alive.

"I don't believe I would either," put in Annie.

"He can't help loving folks," said the mother; "it's his nature." And she might have added that some natures are like the sun, giving out light and warmth continually, not because it is a matter of preference, but like the sun, light and warmth are the divine intention. Mr. Carlton came in on this conversation, looking a trifle anxious as his kind eyes rested upon the little group, but only for a moment. Then a little girl was on each knee, and Maud, who was the oldest, took a footstool by his side, and Mrs. Carlton drew up her rocking-chair and leaned her head against her husband's shoulder.

"I suppose there is no chance of getting back?" she said softly, after a while.

"There don't seem any," he replied "but we wont give up the ship to-night. There is meat in the larder, and two hundred dollars in the till, and before that is gone I shall certainly get something to do."

Before Mr. Carlton was a policeman he had been connected with a wholesale drygoods house, but misfortune had come to the firm, and after being idle a few months had sought and obtained a position in the police department.

"But to be turned out of a place is so disgraceful!" said Mrs. Carlton, who like a few other wives in the world, not infrequently said the wrong thing; "and then it isn't as if you had a trade."

There was more of the same sort, but the good man took no notice, simply remarking that he should not have left his beat so long for any cause, but what was done was done and could not be helped. So the days rolled by, and Mr. Carlton's hopes were not realized. The two hundred dollars in the till dwindled down to twenty, and there was no change. The music and French were things of the past, and at last the day came when there was no money left and no prospect of earning enough to keep the wolf from the door, Mr. Carlton had obtained a few odd jobs, all of which his wife considered far beneath him, which, of course, was another great mistake, as the labor is always ennobled by the man, and not the man by the labor; but then Mrs. Carlton was, in a great measure, excusable, because she had never been taught these things, and because she had the greatest faith in her husband's ability to fill what are called the best places.

Maud, to please her father, had kept on with her practicing, reviewing her old lessons, and spending a great deal of time on scales and five finger exercises. Annie studied her French in somewhat the same style, both girls doing their best to progress without a teacher. It had been very hard times before the wolf made his appearance, but he had come now in his most savage form, and there seemed no way of disposing of him. The landlord would give no more time, and the larder was empty. Mrs. Carlton wrung her hands and asked in bitterness of spirit what was to be done next.

"Up to this time I have done all I could," her husband replied, "but now I think it is best to stop a while and give the Lord a chance to do something."

"Oh, yes!" said Mrs. Carlton, "that'll do very well to talk about, but the Lord helps those who help themselves."

"Then he will help me," said the ex-policeman, in a tone that quieted the weeping lady in spite of herself.

It was a very strange thing for a man to do under such dreadful circumstances, but Mr. Carlton wended his way to the park, and when he had found a quiet spot he sat down to rest and not to think, for that he had determined not to do. Little sparrows hopped tamely about him, and the cool breeze, the blue sky, and exceeding quiet of the place, comforted him beyond description. Things hadn't changed in the least, but Mr. Carlton had changed, for God had spoken to him through his sweetest and loveliest ministers. There was one more day before the family would have to leave the house, and they had all had breakfast enough to keep them from being very hungry, so Mr. Carlton would stay a while longer and become so filled with the divine peace, that it would last him through all he would have to undergo. Now, if he hadn't been open to such ministration, he would have kept growing more anxious and restless, and would, of a necessity, have walked away from the good fortune which was then coming to him. But there he sat perfectly still, and strange as it may seem, perfectly happy, and after a while a little voice said, very like an angel speaking out of heaven, Mr. Carlton thought, "Oh, papa! there is my policeman."

This was the voice of the child who had been dreadfully injured on Broadway, and whom Mr. Carlton had often, in the first of her illness, visited at the hospital. Her father was drawing her slowly along in an invalid's carriage, in the most unfrequented paths of the park.

"Oh! I am so glad we have found him," said the little girl, and then after a moment—"but where are your shield and your pretty buttons?"

"I don't wear them any more," said Mr. Carlton, smiling down into the pale face. "I am not a policeman now."

The gentleman looked the ex-officer over from head to foot, and, with this comprehensive glance, took in the whole situation.

"You have been discharged?" he inquired.

"I have," said Mr. Carlton.

"And did you lose your place for what you did for my little girl that day?" the gentleman went on.

"I was absent from my beat too long without making the proper arrangements," Mr. Carlton replied.

"Ah!" said the gentleman, "and you have nothing to do."

"No, sir."

"Did you have any money laid up?"

"A little, but it's all gone."

"Here is my card," said the gentleman, "and I want you to-morrow to go to work. Here are fifty dollars, all I have about me, and now don't say one word. My wife and I have been more grateful to you than any words of mine can ever express. I have looked for you several times, and my little girl was almost broken-hearted when you stopped visiting her at the hospital. I believe, Mr. Carlton, from the bottom of my heart, that God sent us both to this spot to-day."

Mr. Carlton was too full to say much, but two little arms were about his neck and a loving cheek pressed to his, and it wasn't necessary that he should. The next morning found him once more in the old dry goods trade, with better opportunities for making money than ever before. When in half an hour Mr. Carlton told their great good news to his family, their delight was unbounded. A day or two after Maud's and Annie's teachers were re-called, and were perfectly astonished at the progress the girls had made, and could not understand how it could be accomplished without instruction. Love and obedience were the reasons, of course, as love and obedience are the two great motive-powers of the world.—Eleanor Kirk, in The Methodist.