ov. XVII. No.ai. 



AND HORTICULTURAL REGISTER 



165 



r'We do not often give place in our coliiniiis 



03 of any character, bnt the foliowinj illns- 



I so impressively the merits of a virtue wliicli 



) often •' honored in the breach" rather "than 



observance," in man's dealings with his feU 



nan — (we mean that of paying small debts) — 



we have thoufjht it would be acceptable to our 



!r«, as interesting, if not profUnhh. It serves 



ow " iliat the whole hopes of a family may be 



ndent on a sun altogether unimportant to the 



idual telio owes it, and that in the discharge of 



obligaticina, benevolence is as mucli to be grat- 



as coiiscienciousnesa." Thanksgiving is near 



.nd, and who knows that this little tale may 



e the means of making the day a happier one 



ome poor family, by indiioing some one who 



them a small sum, to follow the worthy ex- 



e of Mr Davidson in the story, and thus ena- 



hem to have both a good dinner and additional 



|)n for tlianks-giving. And who can doubt, 



r, that many who owe the printer a " small 



" will be so (happily) afTected in the regions 



Conscienciousness" and " Benevolence," by the 



ng of the tale, that they " will not give sleep 



leir eyes nor slumber to their eyelids," until 



I have " squared up" with him ! So mote it be. 



iD. — 



THE DAIRYMAN'S BILL. 



dark and stormy morning in February, is not 

 ne when any one, who has freedom of choice, 

 leave a warm fireside for a walk in the shelter- 

 streets. But with the worthy man whom we 

 ibuut to introduce to our readers, there was no 

 ■native. 



indy Patterson was a dairyman in the suburbs 

 dinburg, who maintained his little family by 

 sale of the produce of two cows. His wife 

 their only child, a comely girl of nineteen, 

 s all Sandy's household; and every member of 

 ■ok a share of the labor which supplied their 

 and humble wants. Their small cottage was 

 t and clean, as were also the inmates them- 

 es, though their countenances, on the rainy 

 ruary night in question, betokened depressed 

 sorrowful hearts. 



Heaven speed thee, gnde man !" said the wife, 

 Sandy Patterson threw hi.-i pliiid about his shoul- 

 s, and prepared to encounter the blast without, 

 eaven speed ye I or else we'll be harried and 

 led creatures. What a night, too, to gang 

 inr.'iin! Hap yourself up, Sandy, and pu' the 

 net firm on your head, for that wind is enough 

 ear the coat off your back. But the trial maun 

 made." 



Icr husband drew his bonnet tight over his grey 

 1 scanty hairs, as he was desired, and after 

 aking a word of hope and comfort, left his 

 use and daughter alone in their lowly tenement. 

 Fhe dairyman was too much inured to exposure 

 ill seasons, to feel any great distress from the 

 Bty rain, which fell in fitful showers upon him, 

 lie proceeded on liis way to the centre of the 

 f. Few passengers were in the streets that 

 ht; the many closed shutters showed that all 

 could remain within doors, were enjoying 

 mselves in their parlor.i. Poor Sandy walked 

 scarcely conscious of the storm, having that on 

 mind which rendered him heedless of any per- 

 lal inconvenience. 



He reached at last, one of the most .fashionable 

 eets in the new quarter of the city, and stopped 

 front of a handsome mansion, which, unlike the 



generality of those around it, was nnt closed and 

 shuttered up. On the contrary, a brilliant flood of 

 light came from the windoivs, and the sounds of 

 music and mirth were audible even in the street. 

 Sandy Patterson was the least envious of mortals ; 

 still he could not forbear sighing as ho listened 

 and gazed. With a slow step he mounted the 

 stair of that abode of enjoyment, as it seemed 'o 

 be, and applied his hand timidly to the bell. No 

 answer followed his gentle pull ; the sound was 

 perhaps drowned by the revelry within. Sandy 

 pulled again, and with very little additional ener- 

 gy. A man-servant in plain clothes, now opened 

 the door. To the question, " What do you want ?" 

 Patterson replied, " I am sorry to gie' ye trouble, 

 sir : I am the milkman : I have been once or twice, 

 of late, about the bit account for the milk that the 

 family has forgotten; and though it's an untiine- 

 OU9 hour, I would be greatly obliged if it could be 

 settled tonight. I would hae been laith to trouble 

 ye, but I am in sair want on't." 



The servant, who had been listening to this 

 speech, with the door opened to the least possible 

 extent, that the blast might not visit the interior, 

 now asked the petitioner to enter the lobby while 

 he should mention the matter to his master. Sandy, 

 with many scriibbings of his feet, did as he was 

 required, and took a chair pointed out to hiin. 

 Here his patience, and he had a great deal of it, 

 was not long tried. The man, having gone up 

 stairs, returned in a minute or two with the an- 

 swer — "It was convenient to settle the account at 

 present ; this was an extraordinary time to come in 

 quest of money ; he must call again in a day or 

 two — on Saturday, perhaps on Monday." 



The answer was a dreadful blow to the humble 

 dun. The sum which was owing by this family to 

 him amounted to about five pounds ; but that sum 

 was of the greatest consequence to him. He had 

 already called for payment pretty near a dozen 

 times, although lie had modestly mentioned but 

 " once or twice," and sad necessity alone had 

 pressed him to renew his claim on the present oc- 

 casion. Unless he procured the sum he was in 

 quest of, his cattle and his furniture — his all, in 

 short — would be geizod on the morrow by legal 

 execution, and brought to public sale. The dis- 

 consolate petitioner attempted, in language broken 

 by the heaviness of his heart, to make the footman 

 aware of the state of matters ; but seeing that his 

 words made not the slightest impression, he drew 

 his plaid around him, and turned away from the 

 scene of his disappointment. 



On returning to his home, Sandy Patterson well 

 nigh gave way to an agony of despair. Without 

 hearing a word from his lips, his wife and daugh- 

 ter read in his look the frustration of their hopes. 

 " So they hae just served you as usual, Sandy," 

 said the wife at last. 



"Just the old story — call again — not conve- 

 nient," was the husband's sorrowful reply. "What 

 IS to be done now, Nanny ?" continued the poor 

 man, rising and pacing in agitation up and down 

 the floor : •' what is to be done now? I dool we 

 are clean ruined : not even the means left to us 

 o' winning our morsel o' meat. And you, too, 

 Peggy, piiir thing," laying his hand on his daugh- 

 ter's head — " tins disgrace may gar some folks 

 slight you, and that would be sair for you to bide." 

 " Nae fears o' that, father," said the daughter, 

 " if William — if any body," continued she, correct- 

 ing herself, " were to slight us for misfortunes 



which we could na' help, their scorn would na' vex 

 me, sair. Who can blame you for handing out a 

 helping hand to aid your brother.' He may be 

 not to blame, neither, puirnian; but if a faiit can 

 be laid at any body's door, it is to his, and no to ^%. 

 yours, father; and the creditors that may take a' 

 you have in the morn, are his, and no yours." 



" Troth, and that is true, Peggy," said Sandy, 

 sitting down with something like composure ; 

 " there's nae disgrace in't at least — and that's a 

 great consolation." 



The poor family, though divested of all hope of 

 acquiring the sum of money which Sandy had gone 

 in search of, now sat down calmly to speak of 

 their aff'airs. Twenty pounds was to be la sed. Of 

 this they had mustered only ten pounds, and their 

 anxiety about the account which had been sought 

 that night, arose from a promise of the principal 

 creditor to slop proceedings, and allow more time 

 if fifteen pounds were paid. In this their hopes had 

 been disappointed, as we have seen. 



Before retiring to seek that repose which none 

 of them, it is to be feared, enjoyed that night, Sandy 

 Patterson and his family knelt down as usual, and 

 thanked their Maker for all his mercies, beseech- 

 ing, at the same time, strength to submit to His 

 will. The performance of this act of devotion 

 was not without its effect in composing the spirits 

 of the siifl'ering family, as it brought to their ininda 

 the refreshing recollection that whatever might 

 happen to them on this earth, there was One whose 

 protection man could not deprive them of. 



We now ask the reader's company, while we re- 

 turn to that mansion of comparative luxury, from 

 the door of which Sandy Patterson had turned 

 away in sorrow and sickness of heart. Several 

 hours after his visit, the doors of that house once 

 more opened, not to admit (}uns, but to permit the 

 gay and fashionable to pas?, out after their enter- 

 tainment was over. It is not with them, however, 

 we have to do ; therefore let us walk up stairs, and 

 enter a room now emptied cf its visitors, and ten- 

 anted only by the ordinary inhabitants of the man- 

 sion — Mr Davidson, his wife and eldest daughter. 

 Davidson, let us premise, was a man of easy and 

 somewhat indolent nature, but remarkably liable to 

 be afTected by general impulses. The income 

 which he derived from his profession was ample, 

 and it was rather from a want of system in the 

 management of his household than any other cause 

 that poor Sandy had remained so long unpaid. 

 Stretching himself listlessly on a sofa, he began 

 with his lady to chat over the incidents of the par- 

 ty, and among other circumstances to which he al- 

 luded, was that ludicrous application of a dairy- 

 1 man for the payment of his bill, by which he bad 

 been interrupted in the midst of a very profound 

 discussion on the merits of Hertz's quadrilles. At 

 this allusion, his daughter, a fine child of eleven 

 years, approached, and with ii te«r in her eye, said, 

 "Ah! but papa, the poor man was obliged to 

 come tonight, for his cows are to be sold tomorrow 

 for his onn debts. I heard him tell John so, as I 

 was crossing the lobby. Poor man, he cried as he 

 went away." 



''Good heavens!" exclaimed the conscience- 

 stricken debtor, "can it be possible? Was this 

 the cause of his late application, which I onl 

 laughed at ? Can any one tell me where he lives .'" 

 Inquiry was made below stairs, but no one knew 

 more than that Sandy lived somewhere in the south 

 side of the town. They did n't know his last name. 

 (Concluded on page 168J 



