Little Charlie's Will

________________________________________________
Title:     Little Charlie's Will
Author: Anonymous [More Titles by Anonymous]

Walter and Charlie Harrison were the sons of a sea captain, and lived in one of the fine old seaport towns of M----.

These boys were as unlike as two brothers could well be. Walter was a rough, plain boy, large of his age, and rather clumsy, with a passionate, jealous temper, which gave his friends a great deal of trouble. But he had some noble qualities; he was as brave as a young lion, faithful, diligent, perfectly honest and truthful, and sometimes very tender in his feelings. Charlie, some two years younger than Walter, was a delicate, beautiful, sweet-tempered boy, who loved everybody, and, in return, was greatly beloved. He was fair, pale, and slight, with blue eyes and golden curls. Walter said he looked like a girl, and sometimes laughed at his delicacy; but, for all that, he was jealous of the poor child's beauty--even of his weakness.

Captain Harrison was most of the time at sea, and his gentle wife found it difficult to control the impatient spirit, or correct the even more unamiable moodiness, of her eldest son. If she reproved him sternly, he would often accuse her of being partial to her youngest and handsomest son, and say that she petted and indulged Charlie so much, that he could not be disobedient, or give her any trouble; he himself, he said, would be good, if he were so treated.

Walter really thought himself slighted and unloved, because he knew he was very plain, and he saw his sickly brother cared for constantly. He never seemed to think how ridiculous it would look in his mother to be nursing and petting a stout, healthy boy, who was one of the strongest wrestlers, and the best hand with the ball, in all the town.

Walter, with all his fine health, was often silent and sullen, while his brother was seldom prevented by his illness from being cheerful and talkative. So it was very natural for visitors to notice Charlie the most, and, as they supposed he needed amusing, to send him books and make him presents. All this "partiality" was shown to his brother, Walter said, because he happened to have a fair face; while he did not know how to put himself forward. Charlie was grieved at this, and always wished to share his gifts with his brother; but Walter could never be persuaded to accept anything.

One time, when Charlie was about ten years old, his mother had a visit from a pious maiden aunt, who spent some weeks in the family. During Miss Hannah Perkins' stay, she became much attached to quiet little Charlie; but as Walter gave way to his temper two or three times before her, and made sport of some of her queer ways, she did not like him overmuch, though she thought he might be made a good boy of, with proper management. She wondered how his mother could let such fits of passion and such naughty tricks pass without severe punishment. If he were her child, she said, she would soon whip that bad temper out of him. But Mrs. Harrison believed that one blow would put more evil passion into the heart of such a proud boy as Walter than she could ever get out.

She never failed seriously to reprove his faults and wrong actions; and she knew (what she told no one) that Walter would always come to her, after an outburst of impatience or bad feeling, and ask her forgiveness. She knew that he loved her, his father, brother, and little sister, intensely: so she was patient, and prayed God to soften the heart and subdue the temper of her unhappy child.

A short time after Aunt Hannah returned home, she sent the boys each a book. Charlie's happened to be opened first. It was a handsome illustrated copy of "Robinson Crusoe." Walter then eagerly opened his own, which was rather gaily bound. It was "The Memoirs of a Sunday-school Scholar." Walter flung it down, saying angrily, "What did the old maid send me this for, I wonder? I have had enough of such things out of the Sunday-school library. She did not send you such a humdrum sort of a book, Charlie. I suppose she thought you were pious enough without."

"O brother," said Charlie, "don't talk so hard. I am sure Aunt Hannah meant very kindly by us both."

Walter took up his book, and began looking through it; but he soon broke out again--"Pshaw! just as I thought; nothing but 'early piety,' 'early piety.' Why, couldn't she have sent me some story about wars, or pirates, or even Indians? I am tired to death of 'early piety!'"

"You will never trouble your friends with it, my son," said Mrs. Harrison, who had just entered the room. Walter started and blushed; he did not know that his mother was so near. But he replied, sullenly, "I wish I might not trouble them in any way any longer. It would be better for all if I were dead and buried; for I'm of no use in the world, and nobody loves me."

After having said these unkind words, Walter took his ball-club, and went out to the village green, where the boys were already at play. Charlie soon followed; not to mingle in the sport, for he was not strong enough for that, but he loved always to watch his brother, and felt proud of his skill and strength.

After about half an hour's play, many of the boys set out for home, as a hard storm seemed coming on. The clouds were rolling up thick and black, the lightnings flashed, and the thunder broke overhead. Walter Harrison, who had appeared half angry in all his play, was now leaning against the side of the church, within a yard or two of the lightning-rod. The boys called to him to come away, as he was in a dangerous place; but Walter would not stir. Charlie ran up to him, and begged him to go home; but he only said, "I don't care if the lightning does strike me. I tell you again, I'm of no use in the world--nobody loves me. You may run home, if you are afraid."

"I am not afraid for myself, brother," said Charlie, his lip quivering; "but I will go home and beg mamma to come for you."

Charlie had not run half across the green, when there came a great blaze of lightning, and a heavy crash of thunder, which seemed to shake the very ground. The boys who were looking toward the church said that they saw the lightning roll down the rod like a ball of fire, and disappear in the earth; and that, at the same instant, Walter fell to the ground. They ran to him at once, raised him up, and carried him home. The poor boy's eyes and mouth were open, but he seemed quite dead. The doctor was sent for--came immediately--took Walter from the bed, laid him on the floor, and began pouring cold water upon him by the bucketful. Mrs. Harrison had been strangely calm at first; but when Walter began to show some little signs of life, the joy was more than she could bear, and she fainted away. She went from one fainting fit into another; and when Walter was at last so much restored as to ask for her, she was lying quite insensible. Then first he knew how deeply and dearly his mother loved him. Little Charlie threw himself down by Walter, in the water, which was flooding the room, and the brothers kissed one another, and cried for joy. It was many days before Walter was entirely well; but when he did get about, everybody noticed a great change in him. He was more kind and pleasant; far less jealous and passionate, he was happier, and made others happier, than ever before. He was so sure now that his mother truly loved him; and he knew, he said, that he could never again be jealous of his little brother. But, alas! Walter did not know himself. When he was fourteen, and his brother--still called "Little Charlie"--about twelve, a wealthy uncle came from Boston for a brief visit. As this gentleman had no family, it was thought that Walter, who had been named for him, would be the heir to his fortune. For this very reason, Walter was too proud to pay him any court; indeed, he hardly paid him proper respect and attention, and was generally silent and reserved in his presence. Mr. Rodgers did not understand this manner; he thought Walter sullen and cold, and, though he could not but see that he was an honest, intelligent boy, he was not, on the whole, pleased with him. But, like all other visitors, he was quite charmed with little Charlie; and he had not been long gone from the village, before there arrived from Boston a beautiful white pony, handsomely saddled and bridled, "For Master Charles Harrison." In a letter to his sister, Mr. Rodgers said, "Thinking that a daily ride may benefit my little invalid nephew, I send a pony, which is both spirited and docile. I hope that Charlie will accept it, with the kind wishes of 'Uncle Walter.'"

Both Mrs. Harrison and Charlie were pained that no present came for Walter, and that he was scarcely mentioned in the letter; while, as for Walter, he felt the old jealous feeling boiling up from his heart, hotter than ever, and said some hard things, which he had better have left unsaid.

"Why, brother," said Charlie, "the pony shall be as much yours as mine; you may ride it every day."

"No, I won't!" answered Walter, angrily; "I never will mount it, as long as I live. I wouldn't be so mean."

But Walter had little cause to be envious of his brother, who was quite too weak to ride his pretty pony. A few rods only gave him a severe pain in the side--so very delicate was poor Charlie.

This spring he seemed far worse than usual; he did not complain, but he daily grew weak and languid, till finally he could no longer be about the house.

One afternoon, when he came from school, Walter found Charlie sitting up in his bed, writing; but he hid his paper and pencil under the pillow when he saw his brother, and hastily wiped away some tears which were on his cheek. That very night he grew much worse; a fever came on, and he was quite delirious. All night long they watched over him, with great anxiety, and during the next day, though he was more quiet, and slept most of the time. When awake, he did not speak much, or seem to recognize any one.

Just at sunset, Walter was sitting in his own chamber by the window, with his face hidden in the curtains--for he was grieving for his gentle brother, who was like to die--when his mother entered, holding a paper in her hand. Walter saw that she had been weeping, as she said, "I found this paper under little Charlie's pillow; you may read it, if you will."

Walter opened it, saw that it was in Charlie's handwriting, and read:--

MY LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT.

I leave to my dear mamma my gold-clasped Bible, my trunk, and all my clothes, except my new green cloth roundabout, which I leave to cousin John, because he likes it, and it just fits him. To my papa I leave my pictures of Jesus Christ stilling the Tempest, and the fight between the "Constitution" and "Guerriere," my seal of Hope and the Anchor, and the "Voyages of Captain Cook." To my sister Clara I leave my canaries, my pet squirrel, my flowers, and all my fairy story-books. To my brother Walter I give the rest of my library, my chessboard and men, my battledores and shuttlecock, my rabbits, my dog, and my white pony; and when I am dead, I hope he will believe I have loved him dearly.

CHARLES HARRISON.

Walter wept bitterly over this will; but when he had grown calm, he said, "May I go to him, mother?" "If you will promise not to disturb him," she answered. Walter promised, and stole softly into the chamber, where Charlie was now alone, sleeping quietly. He knelt down by the bed-side, hid his face in the counterpane, and silently prayed God to forgive all his sins, to give him a better heart, and to make his brother well again. Suddenly he felt a soft hand laid on his head. He looked up, and Charlie's mild blue eyes were smiling on him. "Come and sit near me," he said; and Walter then lifted a chair to the bed-side, and read to him out of the sacred Volume.

While they were thus engaged, they heard some unusual noise below, and then their mother coming upstairs with some one who stepped a little heavier. It was their father, returned from his longest and last sea voyage! Now he promised to stay at home with them always.

The return of Captain Harrison did more than medicine to cure his little son, who soon became stronger than he had ever been before.

One afternoon, when Charlie had been a fortnight about the house, it was arranged that he should take a short ride on his white pony, soon after breakfast the next day.

When Walter came down in the morning, his mother kissed him more tenderly than usual, and his father, shaking hands with him heartily, wished him many happy returns of the day. Walter looked as though he did not know what to make of this, and his mother said, "Why, my son, is it possible you have forgotten this is your birthday?"

"Ah, yes, mamma," he answered; "I only remembered that it was Charlie's first day out."

"And so," said his father, "you are to give him a ride; pray, what are you to do?"

"Oh, I'll trot along by his side, on foot. I believe I can outrun that pony now."

When breakfast was over, Walter helped his brother into the saddle, and was arranging the bridle, when Charlie called out, joyfully, "Look there, brother!" pointing with his riding-whip to another white pony, somewhat larger than his own, standing on the other side of the yard. Walter ran to it, took off a slip of paper which was pinned to the rein, and read: "Will Walter, our first-born and beloved son, accept this birthday gift from his parents?"

Walter laid his face against the slender, arching neck of his beautiful pony, and burst into tears. But he was too happy to weep long; he soon ran into the house, thanked and kissed his father and mother, ran out again, mounted, and rode off with his brother.

They had a fine ride. They had many fine rides together in the years that followed; for Charlie continued to improve, till he became quite strong and vigorous. As for Walter, he always kept his robust health; he did not grow to be handsome, but he became what is far better, truly amiable and agreeable. Even Aunt Hannah Perkins grew to liking him at last; and Uncle Walter Rogers, who sent him to college, has been heard to declare that he shall leave him all his fortune--knowing that he will not hoard it like a miser, nor waste it like a spend-thrift, but so use it as to do a great deal of good, and make a great many people happy. But I do not believe that the writing that gives to Walter Harrison a large sum of money, land, and houses, will ever be so dear to him as a little scrap of paper, which he keeps among his most valuable and sacred things in his private desk, and on which he has written, "LITTLE CHARLIE'S WILL."

[The end]
Anonymous's short story: Little Charlie's Will

________________________________________________



GO TO TOP OF SCREEN