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Have Patience
by
“I have no doubt he suffered more than you, Stephen,” said Mary; “he would be vexed that he, had shown his temper before the lady, vexed that he had told a lie, and vexed that he had hurt you when you bore it so patiently.
“Yes, mother, but that doesn’t make it easier for me to bear his ill temper; I’ve borne it now for more than a year for your sake, and I can bear it no longer. Surely I can get something to do; I’m sturdy and healthy, and willing to do any kind of work.”
Mary shook her head, and remained for a long time silent and thoughtful. At length she said, with a solemn earnestness of manner that almost made poor Stephen cry,
“You say that, for my sake, you have borne your master’s unkind treatment for more than a year; for my sake, bear it longer, Stephen. Your patience must, and will be rewarded in the end. You know how I have worked, day and night, ever since your poor father died, when you were only a little infant in the cradle, to feed and clothe you, and to pay for your schooling, for I was determined that you should have schooling; you know how I have been cheered in all my toil by the hope of seeing you, one day, getting on in the world, And I know, Stephen, that you will get on. You are good, honest lad, and kind to your poor mother, and God will reward you. But not if you are hasty; not if you are impatient. You know how hard it was for me to get you this situation; you might not get another; you must not leave; you must not break your indentures; you must be patient and industrious still; you have a hard master, and, God knows, it costs me many at heartache to think of what you have to suffer; but bear with him, Stephen; bear with him, for my sake, a few years longer.”
Stephen was now fairly crying and his mother kissed off his tears, while her own flowed freely. Her appeal to his affection was not in vain. He soon smiled through his tears, as he said,
“Well, mother, you always know how to talk me over, When I came in to-night I did think that I would never go the shop again. But I will promise you to be patient and industrious still. Considering all that you have, done for me, this is little enough for me to do for you. When I have a shop of my own, you shall live like a lady. I’ll trust to your word that I shall be sure to get on, if I am patient and industrious, though I don’t see how it’s to be.–It’s not so very bad to bear after all; and, bad as my master is, there’s one comfort, he lets me have my Saturday nights and blessed Sundays with you. Well, I feel happier now, and I think I can eat my supper. We forgot that my porridge was getting cold all this time.”
Stephen kept his word; day after day, and month after month, his patience and industry never flagged. And plenty of trials, poor fellow, he had for his fortitude. His master, a small stationer in a small country town, to whom Stephen was bound apprentice for five years, with a salary barely sufficient to keep him in clothes, was a little, spare, sharp-faced man, who seemed to have worn himself away with continual fretfulness and vexation. He was perpetually fretting, perpetually finding fault with something or other, perpetually thinking that everything was going wrong. Though he did cease to go into a passion with, and to strike Stephen, the poor lad was an object always at hand, on which to vent his ill-humour, Many, many times was Stephen on the point of losing heart and temper; but he was always able to control himself by thinking of his mother. And, as he said, there was always comfort in those Saturday nights and blessed Sundays. A long walk in the country on those blessed Sundays, and the Testament readings to his mother, would always strengthen his often wavering faith in her prophecies of good in the end, would cheer his spirits, and nerve him with a fresh resolution for the coming week. And what was it that the widow hoped would result from this painful bondage? She did not know; she only had faith in her doctrine–that patience and industry would some time be rewarded. How the reward was to come in her son’s case, she could not see. It seemed likely, indeed, from all appearances, that the doctrine in this case would prove false. But still she had faith.