Victorian England - Articles and Stories

THE RACE FOR WEALTH. CHAPTER XXIV.

BY THE AUTHOR OF "GEORGE GEITH," "MAXWELL DREWITT," kc.

CHAPTER XXIV. 

LAWRENCE'S PROSPECTS.

IN the day of any man who has to earn his bread hardly, in the sweat of his brow, with the labour of his hands, by the exercise of whatever mind God has given him, the working hours are necessarily many, the moments of recreation, or even relaxation, few ; and for this reason, when a writer undertakes to tell the life - story of such an one as Lawrence Barbour, it is needful to speak of the toil as well as of the pleasure — of the heat and burden of the noon time, as well as of the cool shade and the pleasant chatter of the even-tide.

He had come to London to work — to learn — to labour — and to wait ; he had come to turn his hand to whatsoever offered itself for his hand to do, to make a way for himself in the world — to win position — to earn wealth. When he first set foot in the great Babylon he knew that whatever good he effected in life — whatever victory he achieved — whatever honour he gained, he should have to effect and achieve and gain for himself by the strength of his own right hand, his will, and his brain.

And he had succeeded. He was not now standing where he stood when he first started in his career. He had learnt ; he had secured what no evil fortune could take from him — knowledge; and he felt within himself that every year was likely' to increase his know ledge, and consequently his power of making money.

The step of the social ladder on which he stood had been reached by no adventitious aid — from the height of no worldly advantage — from the shoulders of no lofty patronage. He had climbed there with the help of his own industry and his own talents, despite of early prejudices, and physical weakness, and frequent ill-health ; and he knew that, were he

able to continue in the same course, he could, as the years went by, climb still higher, and in time stand almost on the highest point of the hill of business prosperity.

He was thinking of this as he walked up the Commercial Road, while the afternoon sun blazed full upon it — thinking of how wonder fully he had prospered, of how much better than all his imaginings the reality of success had proved ; and yet, even while acknowledging with thankfulness the progress he had made, and looking forward eagerly towards the progress it was still competent for him to make, he felt vaguely that the years had taken something out of his life, that there was some of the gilding rubbed off existence, some beauty which the past had held, blurred and faded in the present.

The actual castle a man builds for himself with brick and mortar, with wood and stucco, is never so lovely as the ' dream-castle he conceived out of his own head, and perfected with his fancy in the morning time when life had but just commenced, when the day was before him, when the sun had scarcely risen upon his earth. Though the one may be good to in habit, though it may have doors and windows, though it have pleasant rooms and fair prospects, though it may be strong to shelter, sound and weather-tight, and look well to the eye of the passing stranger, it yet lacks some thing which the dream-castle possessed. Its vanes and pinnacles never glitter in the sun like the vanes and pinnacles of youth's palace of delight, never on such fair lands does the eye of manhood look forth as those over which the glance of his younger self has wandered up and down : there may be flowers, but they are not the flowers of the imaginary paradise; there may be love, but it is not the ideal love of inexperience ; there may be perfumes, but they are not the sweet fresh lightsome scents of the early morning ; there may be exquisite fruits, but they pall on the taste and clog the appetite ; there may be success, wealth, fame, social standing, worldly distinction, but the man who grasps these good things grasps also earth with them ; he finds the gold and the alloy together, the gem and the flaw, the position and the drawback.