HARRY AND ARCHIE | AdventAI

Seventh-day Adventist Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Sep 16, 1880

HARRY AND ARCHIE.

"Come on quick, Hal Strong! there's fun ahead. You know Tom, the fisher? Well, he's going out this afternoon, and he says if we boys will promise not to bother, he'll take us along. There'll be six of us, counting you, if you'll hurry up and come. Say, Hal, will you?"

Ned Green delivered himself of the above with hardly a pause for breath; and then wiping his warm face with a very moist handkerchief, stood looking up at the window from which Harry was leaning, and impatiently awaited a reply. Harry, meanwhile, had been considering.

"It'll be a jolly lark—no end of fun. Ned," he said; "but, you see, there's part of a load of wood to be piled in the back yard, and I promised mother to do it sure before dark."

"Cut the wood!" cried Ned, "it will keep till to-morrow; and you never have time for a frolic, seems to me. I say, Hal, it's a shame." Harry laughed.

"Cut the wood, eh? That's been already done, but not in the way you mean, old fellow. But hold on, I'll see what mother says." And the bright young face disappeared from the window, while Ned waited at the gate, anxious to be off, and yet too loyal to his friend to leave him in the lurch.

In a few minutes, however, Harry came bounding from the doorway.

"It's all right, Ned; mother's good as pie. She says the wood may wait, and so here I am. Whoop! hufrah!"

Off they went, boy fashion—leaping, capering, and shouting; and as they go I'll say a few words of Hal. It was seldom the boy had a whole afternoon to play, although he loved a frolic as well as his fellows. But his widowed mother earned her living by her needle, and Harry was obliged to seek such odd jobs as would help her to fill the family purse. So his hours of play were few and far between, but perhaps all the more merry and enjoyable when they came than would otherwise have been the case. A thoroughly good fellow was Harry Strong, and the boys liked him well enough to include him in all their sports whenever it was possible for him to join them.

"I say, Ned Green," said he, as the two went speedily on the road to the beach, "I'm jolly glad for this afternoon of fun. I've just been crazy for a boat ride for ever so long, and now here's the chance. I'm much obliged for your thinking of me."

"Guess we wouldn't like to go without you, Hal," was Ned's answer, heartily given, and just then the beach shone white and broad before them, while out beyond danced the rippling waters, inviting indeed to those who were gathered there waiting till Tom should dip the water out of his lumbering old boat, and make her ready for passengers.

A cross old chap was Tom, the fisherman, and not often would he allow himself to be bothered by the boys. But once in awhile he gathered a few sunbeams within his heart, and warmed a little to the usual entreaties of the coaxing fellows who loved to haunt the beach. So it had happened that on this afternoon he had proven graciously inclined, and ere-long the boat was full of little fellows ready and impatient for the "shove-off." Tom had just bent himself to that effort, and was preparing to jump aboard himself, when a small voice was heard at a little distance which arrested the attention of all. Presently the owner of the voice appeared upon the scene, flushed and eager. Only a small boy to match the voice, but his words came fast as he paused on the beach before the merry crew of the "Nancy."

"Oh, please, my little brother fell down and hurt himself, and—and I can't lift him, and he's crying and crying, and I don't know what I shall do. Please come and help me take him home!" There were tears in the blue eyes of the speaker, and his voice trembled a little, but he did not break down until the last word was spoken, and then with a sob he turned his white, frightened face aside. Harry Strong had started to his feet in generous and speedy response to the call for help, but five voices cried, "Sit down, Hal, don't bother. It may be only a little hurt, and the chap will get home all right, of course."

"But it may be something else besides a little thing," replied Harry. "And I say, fellows, I can't let a boy like that suffer—such a little fellow! I guess I'd better go on shore; eh, Tom?"

Tom growled out his reply, "Shan't wait for you if ye do, Hal Strong. Tide's right now, and I've work to do. Better let the chap go elsewhere for help. Don't believe it's anything but a cry-baby affair, anyhow. Gents' sons are allers such babies! Sarves 'em right to get hurt now and then. Come, I can't wait here any longer. Here goes!"

But Harry's mind was made up. Disappointed as he would be, yet his noble heart was too full of mother-love and mother-teaching to turn his face from the duty of helping any one, friend or stranger, in time of trouble. So with a spring he left the boat and called good-by to the boys, who were so vexed with him, and yet who in their hearts honored him for his conduct.

"Now then, come on, little chap!" cried Harry, as he started on a run up the road, followed by the small boy, whose face brightened wonderfully as he slipped his hand within Harry's. "What's your name?"

"Archie Brown," was the reply. "And me and my brother—we're twin boys, you know—were playin', and a stone fell out of the bank and struck Dick in his leg; and it's a pretty big stone, so I can't lift him up."

The "stone" proved to be a good-sized piece of rock, which had become loosened from the bank above where Archie and Dick had been playing, and had fallen against and upon the latter's little leg, breaking the limb, and keeping the child a prisoner until Harry's strong arms came to the rescue. The twins were strangers in the village, sons of a wealthy man who had recently moved from the city. But, save the fact that they were strangers to him, our brave-hearted Harry knew nothing about them, nor did he care to know anything more than where to carry the suffering child. Little Archie gave directions and led the way, and presently the sick boy was lifted from Harry's arms by the father, who also invited Harry to enter the cool, handsome parlor and rest. A little explanation ensued, and then Harry returned to his home—and went to work at the woodpile, after telling his mother all that had happened.

"I almost wish you had gotten away before the little boy came to the beach," said sympathetic mamma, regretting the loss of her boy's sport; but, after all, you did the right thing, darling, and I'm glad you are so unselfish."

It seemed a very long and unusually tiresome afternoon to Harry, although the minutes and hours were all employed usefully. He couldn't keep the feeling of disappointment out of his heart, try as he might; and besides all that, he wasn't by any means sure that he would have another such chance for a good time.

But "there's no use crying after spilled milk," quoted Hal to himself at last; and so his face was bright and happy again when, about sunset, he went to the store for his mother on an errand. There he found Tom and the boys, who had returned a few minutes before, and the latter gathered about Harry, eager to tell the fun they had had and the fish they had caught. And they rallied Harry considerably, too, about "being such a goose as to give up such fun for the sake of helping a chap he didn't even know!"

After he and his companions had left the store, a gentleman who had been making purchases stepped up to the desk and asked a few questions concerning Harry Strong. The store-keeper very willingly answered them all, telling of Harry's kind heart and generous nature, his love for his widowed mother, their straitened circumstances, and all. And when the gentleman had gone, the man, with a good-natured smile to the few loungers in the store, said:—

"'Twas that gent's son that Hal Strong helped to-day when he got hurt. Shouldn't wonder, now, if he did something handsome by the lad in return. Anyhow, I thought I would speak a good word for Hal."

Whether it was because Harry, continuing his acquaintance with little Archie and Dick, grew into the father's favor by his good conduct and entire unconsciousness that he had done any very unselfish or noble thing on that particular afternoon when he gave up his own pleasure for another, or whether it was because of the store-keeper's "good word for Hal," cannot be determined exactly; but at any rate, one morning, about three weeks after Dick's accident, Archie called, and begged Harry to go "just a moment" to the beach with him. When the two reached there, what should Harry see but a beautiful little boat dancing up and down on the silvery ripples of the tide, and ready in every particular for a race over the waters so soon as the chain which tied her fast to shore should be loosened.

"Oh, what a beauty!" cried Hal, delightedly. "Is she yours, Archie? May I go out in her some day?"

"Look and see whose she is," replied Archie, jumping about in his endeavor to keep a secret safe within his little lips.

So Harry went closer, and then he too jumped up and down; for there, in gold letters, was the name "Harry Strong," plain enough for anybody to read without glasses.

"Papa gave it to you," explained Archie then, "'cause he thinks you're a noble fellow. He told mamma so—I heard him; and now you have a boat of your own, and Dick won't get hurt again, so you won't lose another sail for us."

Boys are not given to kissing, else Hal would have kissed little Archie; but he took his hand very closely in his own, and together the two ran off to find Archie's father. The boys of Harry's acquaintance met that afternoon and voted thanks, in Harry's name, to the giver of the boat; and so, after all, out of the afternoon of disappointment, sprang much pleasure and kind feeling for all.—The Churchman.