THE DARK HOUR | AdventAI

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Mountain View, Cal. · Jun 21, 1905

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 31, No. 25.

THE DARK HOUR.

"I CAN not stand it any longer, Jane; I'll go out, and perhaps something will turn up for us."

"It's a cold night, Robert."

"Cold! Yes. But it's not much colder out than in. It would have been much better if you had never married me," he said bitterly.

"Don't say that, Robert; I have never regretted my choice."

"Not even when there is not a loaf of bread in the house for you and the children?"

"No, Robert. Don't be discouraged. God has not forsaken us. Perhaps this very evening the tide may turn, and better days dawn upon us to-morrow."

Robert Price shook his head, despondingly. "You are more hopeful than I, Jane. Day after day I have been in search of employment. Have called at fifty places, only to receive the same answer everywhere."

Just then little Jimmy, who had been asleep, awoke.

"Mother," he pleaded, "won't you please give me a piece of bread? I am so hungry."

"There is no bread, Jimmy, darling."

"When will there be some?" asked the child, piteously.

Tears came to the mother's eyes. She knew not what to do.

"Jimmy!" said the father hoarsely, "I'll bring you some bread." He then seized his hat, and started for the door. His wife, alarmed, grasped his arm, for she saw the look in his eyes, and feared the step to which desperation might lead him.

"Remember, Robert," she said, solemnly, "it is hard to suffer want; but there are some things that are far, far worse!"

Without answering, he passed out. Out into the cold streets! There, he felt, would be their next home, for the rent of their cheerless room in a cold lodging-house would be due at the end of the month, and he had nothing to meet it.

Robert Price was a competent and skilful mechanic. He had formerly lived in a country village, where his expenses were moderate, and he found no difficulty in meeting them. But, in an evil hour, he grew tired of his village home, and removed to the city. For a while he met with very good success; but he found the lodging-house, in which he had to live, a poor substitute for the neat cottage which he had occupied in the country. Suddenly there came a time of great depression, and with it a suspension of business enterprise. Work ceased for Robert Price and many others. Had he been in his old home, he could have turned his hand to something else, or could have borrowed from his neighbor till times grew better.

So, day after day, he went out to seek work, only to return disappointed. It was a keen trial to return to the cheerless room, his pale wife and hungry little ones, with no relief to offer them.

As Robert Price walked the streets that evening, he hardly knew how he was going to redeem his promise made to little Jimmy. He was absolutely penniless, and there was nothing that he was likely to find to do that night.

"I will pawn my coat," he said to himself, "for I can not see my wife and children starve."

It was a well-worn overcoat, and that cold night he needed it to keep himself warm.

"Yes," said he, "my coat must go. I know not how I shall get on without it, but I can not see the children starve before my eyes."

He was not an envious man, but when he saw the groups of well-fed citizens, buttoned up to the throat in warm overcoats, moving along the streets, he suffered some bitter thoughts upon the inequality of fortune's gifts to come to his mind. Why should they be so well provided for, while he was so miserable?

There was one man, shorter than himself, warmly clad, who passed him with his hands thrust deep to the pockets of his overcoat. There was a pleasant smile upon his face. He was doubtless thinking of the happy family group awaiting him at home. Robert knew him as a rich cabinet-maker and upholsterer, whose large warehouse he had often passed. Only two days before he had applied to this man for employment, and been refused.

As this tradesman, Mr. Grimes, walked along in front of Robert, he drew his handkerchief from his pocket. As he did so, he did not perceive that his pocketbook came with it, and fell to the pavement.

Robert saw it, and his heart leaped for joy; for a sudden thought entered his mind. Quickly picking up the pocketbook, he raised his eyes to see if he had been observed. He had not. Mr. Grimes went on.

"This will buy bread for my wife and children," thought Robert, and for an instant the vision of comfort which this money should bring to his cheerless home filled his heart with joy, but then—there came another thought, for he was an honest man. The money was not his!

He began to reason: "I can not see my wife and children starve. If it is wrong to keep the money, will not God pardon my offense? He understands my motive."

All this was sophistry, and he knew it. In a moment he was conscious that there were some things worse than starvation.

It was with an effort that he came to this decision, for Jimmy's plea for food was still ringing in his ears, but the next moment he had stepped forward, and placed his hand on the tradesman's shoulder, and extended the hand that held the pocketbook.

"Thank you," said Mr. Grimes, turning around;

"I hadn't perceived my loss. I am much obliged to you."

"You have reason to be," said Robert in a low voice. "I came very near keeping it."

"That would have been dishonest," said Mr. Grimes, his tone altering slightly.

"Yes, it would; but it is hard for a man to be honest when he is penniless, and his wife and children without food."

"Surely, you and your children are not in that condition!" exclaimed the tradesman, earnestly.

"Yes," said Robert, "it is only too true. For two months I have vainly sought for work. I applied to you two days since."

"I remember you now. I thought I had seen you before. You still want work?"

"I should be so grateful for it."

"My foreman left me yesterday. Will you take his place for twenty-five dollars a week?"

"Thankfully, sir; I would work for half that!"

"Then come to-morrow morning. In the meantime take this for your present necessities."

He drew from his pockets some notes, and handed them to Robert.

"Why, you have given me thirty dollars!" said Robert, in amazement.

"I know it. The pocketbook contains five thousand dollars. But for you I should have lost the whole."

"Heaven bless you, sir! Good night."

"Good night."

Jane waited for her husband in the cold and cheerless room, which she felt she might only for a few days longer call her home.

Suddenly she heard a step on the stairs. It certainly could not be her husband's, for this was a cheerful person, coming up two steps at a time. She looked eagerly, as the door opened. There stood Robert, radiant with joy, carrying a large basket full of substantial provisions.

"Father, have you some bread?" asked Jimmy, hopefully.

"Yes, my dear boy, some bread and meat and sugar. Let's have a bright fire, Jane, and a comfortable meal; for, praise God, this shall be a merry evening."

"How did this happen? Tell me, please, Robert."

So Robert related what had transpired during the hour he had been away, and then five happy persons sat down to a meal such as they had not enjoyed for weeks.

The following week they moved to better rooms, and have never since known what it is to want.

Robert, faithful and true, found in Mr. Grimes a lasting friend; and he never ceases to remember, with grateful heart, God's goodness and mercy toward him and his family on that memorable winter's night.