The Argosy — page 328: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

A Dream from Heaven. 307 Monday Morning.—The commencement of another week of pain. This time yesterday I had at least some hours of peace before me. I was reading last night the Book of Job. It deceived my mind into hope. Who was afflicted as he was? and yet “the Lord blessed the latter end of Job more than the beginning.” But, have I Job’s spirit of resignation? Why deceive myself? No. Before these dark misfortunes fell upon me, had I lost my children at one fell swoop, as he did, rather than have bowed my head in submis- sion, I should have cried out as did David for Absalom—Would God I had died for thee, my child, my child! Yet I feel now that I could bless the hand which removed them all; removed them from the storms ‘of this world to shelter them in the bosom of a Father, willing and more able to protect them than I am. Alone, I should not care for my misfortunes. I would go out from all who knew me; roam the country in search of work ; break stones upon the road—anything for a crust ; and wait for better times. Tuesday.—I must carry out the project I have had so long running in my head, and apply to Lewis. We played together in boyhood, we were inseparable in youth, in manhood friends. He has it amply in his power to assist me, and I cannot think that he would want the will. A hundred pounds, to him, would be nothing ; to me, salva- tion. With such a sum in hand, I believe I could extricate myself. Part of it would pay what we owe in this neighbourhood, and the rest I could use to good account. As it is, my whole time is taken up in endeavouring to obtain that which will enable us to go on and live for another day. We must exist: but we could eat hard fare, and endure many privations, if we had but peace from without. Let us be enabled to surmount this wearing struggle, endure on in retirement a little longer, and perhaps in time Oh this hope! how it comes stealing in ! ‘Our misfortunes have taught me one thing,” observed Margaret, as we sat together last night, after the children were in bed. ‘“‘T should have thought they had taught you many things, Margaret. What is it?” “That those we are apt to term ‘the poor’ are not the class who most need relief. Just as these dreadful troubles came on x Margaret’s tale was suddenly cut short. Late as the hour was, aman came dunning me for money, and stayed to abuse me because I could not pay him. ; Thursday Morning.—My dear little Algernon has just come to me— ‘‘ Papa, look at my shoes! All the toes out. I can’t go to school like _this, for the boys made game of me yesterday, and asked why I wore such things.” ‘They must be mended, Algie.” | ‘* But they won’t mend any more. ‘The sides are worn away and the CoOnniclooolkks (C(O)