of
social order and a prosperous civilisation. But the best forms of
benevolence are the well-established, organised ones here at home,
where people can see them and know what they are doing."
"You mean the ones that have a local habitation and a name."
"Yes; they offer by far the safest return, though of course there is
something gained by contributing to general funds. A public man can't
afford to be without public spirit. But on the whole I prefer a
building, or an endowment. There is a mutual advantage to a good name
and a good institution in their connection in the public mind. It
helps them both. Remember that, my boy. Of course at the beginning you
will have to practise it in a small way; later, you will have larger
opportunities. But try to put your gifts where they can be identified
and do good all around. You'll see the wisdom of it in the long run."
"I can see it already, sir, and the way you describe it looks
amazingly wise and prudent. In other words, we must cast our bread on
the waters in large loaves, carried by sound ships marked with the
owner's name, so that the return freight will be sure to come back to
us."
The father laughed, but his eyes were frowning a little as if he
suspected something irreverent under the respectful reply.
"You put it humourously, but there's sense in what you say. Why not?
God rules the sea; but He expects us to follow the laws of navigation
and commerce. Why not take good care of your bread, even when you give
it away?"
"It's not for me to say why not--and yet I can think of cases--" The
young man hesitated for a moment. His half-finished cigar had gone
out. He rose and tossed it into the fire, in front of which he
remained standing--a slender, eager, restless young figure, with a
touch of hunger in the fine face, strangely like and unlike the
father, at whom he looked with half-wistful curiosity.
"The fact is, sir," he continued, "there is such a case in my mind
now. So I thought of speaking to you about it to-night. You remember
Tom Rollins, the Junior who was so good to me when I entered college?"
The father nodded. He remembered very well indeed the annoying
incidents of his son's first escapade, and how Rollins had stood by
him and helped to avoid a public disgrace, and how a close friendship
had grown between the two boys, so different in their fortunes.
"Yes," he said, "I remember him. He was a promising young man. Has he
succeeded?"
"Not exact
|