Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1877-07-10

cave Amberley Villas, and to begin life

leave AmberIey Villas, ana 10 DeSln uLo
over again. Henry'sprospects, of course,
would be seriously damaged, and we
could never hope to thoroughly regain
the position our own folly had deprived
us Of 1t was not pleasant to think OF
but there could be no shutting out Of
the question now; it must be met and
answered Immediately: What were we
to do? Nothing very definite could be
arrived at; but one thing was quite
clear-the change could not be far off.
can never describe the anxiety Of
the days that followed, nor tell the ago.
| ny it cost me to write and tell my moth
er that we were hopelessly involved,
and that our difficulties were SO great it
was impossible for us ever to surmount
them. What would she say? What
would everybody say? Worst of all,
what would Uncle Jocelyn say? For
the worst had come to the worst-our
house was our own no longer; q man
strange and to me most terrible-was
comfortably making himself at home
in our kitchen-in other words, had
taken possession! How could Henry
show his face at the office! How could
ever venture out again!
shall never forget the two days that
followed after / wrote and told my
mother; on the third, when was al
most stupefied with the magnitude of
our misfortunes, and during Henry's
(poor Henry had certainly the hardest
part to bear, for he could not stay quiet
ly at hOme) absence had shut myself up
in my room, some one knocked at the
door, and in answer to my very subdued
f"Come in" it was gently opened, and
not Sophy, as had anticipated, appear
ed, but the familiar, friendly face Of
Uncle Jocelyn. '9e
.sMy poor child !" he exclaimed-"my
little Kate !"-and he folded me in his
arms with all the tenderness of father.
he said, land started off Immediately.
Cheer up, Kate; don't grieve your old
uncle by tears. Things can't be past
mending; and I wouldn't be here If
hadn't come to help you."
And how he helped us! Without word
of anger or reproach he listened to Hen 4,
ry and my story. We told it faithfully,
not sparing or attempting to justify
ourselves for our culpable conduct, and
when all was confessed he simply wrote
a check for the full amount Of our liza
bilities. The total was q serious one,
but we were saved not only from the dis.
grace, but from Henry's dismissal from
a partnership which afterwards was the
means of our possessing fortune far
beyond what we had ever in our rosiest
dreamed of.
By Uncle Jocelyn's' advice we sublet
An.berley Villas and retired to
more roomy house in a less fashionable
locality. We sold all our superffu-
tiles which had become actually hateful
to me, and we started once more with q
small but certain income.
How much happier we were, and how
grateful to Uncle Jocelyn, it would re-
quire far more eloquent,pen than mine
to describe. He often came to see US,
and never had cause to regret the gen.
erous help he had so readily extended
to us in our great need, for he saw how
mother joined in the general rejoicing
over our regained happiness; and out
of gratitude her old prejudice against
Uncle Jocelyn faded and faded away.
She often goes to Conington now,
where we all meet, a merry party, Of
which the generous old man h the we'll
beloved centre. He was giving me some
gentle hints as to the training of my
sons the other day. "Forlit's mothers
influence that tells upon the man, Kate
it's the lesson she teaches in childhood
that he remembers best"
Eyes, Uncle Jocelyn,".I I answered;
L AuOW you are lLguts AOpv, auOu&6t
the many things desire to teach them,
one especially mayn't be forgotten-you
know what that is 7"
''To fear Cod" replied Uncle Jocelyn,
reverently.
"That first of ALL" answered; "but
1 meant something else.n
"What?" queried Uncle J0celyn.
"Never to buy what they can't afford,
and always to pay ready-money."