Chapter XIII: Building

"No feverish dream of care,
But a high pathway into freer air,
Lit up with golden hopes and duties fair."
ANON.

WE pass over the interval which elapsed before Joseph reached his final destination. To any one in the least degree familiar with the ways of the great city, the details are simple enough. To Joseph, as will readily be imagined, they were far less so. Once at Broad Street Station, however, there remained nothing but to take the next train to Canonbury, and there to seek out the address on the card which Mr. Girling had forwarded to him.

But Mr. Glover, the gentleman to whom he had been recommended, was out when he arrived, and the man of whom he made his inquiries seemed doubtful when he would return. So after parleying for some minutes, half in expectation of being asked to wait, he expressed his intention of calling again within an hour, and turned out to trudge up and down in the neighbourhood, carrying bag and baggage with him.

He was getting rather hungry by this time. It was close upon mid-day, and he had breakfasted at seven, making but a poor meal of it, in spite of his mother's solicitude. There was a little parcel of sandwiches in the portmanteau, but he could not eat them in the open street. So he wandered on, hoping that after seeing Mr. Glover, he would be able to form some more definite idea concerning his future method of procedure.

But an hour seemed a long while to wait, and it struck him that, at the expiration of that time, he might fail to find the gentleman in. As this possibility presented itself to his mind, he recollected that his mother had said he could get a glass of milk and a bun at any confectioner's in the neighbourhood. He at once determined to look out for one, thinking that at any rate this would be something to stay his appetite until an opportunity offered for making a more substantial meal.

He had noticed more than one on his way from the station, but exactly how to return to that point Joseph did not know. He had come through a good many back streets to find Mr. Glover's place of business, and felt somewhat chary about losing his bearings.

An old gentleman was coming along the pavement towards him, and, emboldened by his remarkably benevolent appearance, Joseph ventured upon asking if he would kindly direct him to a street, the name of which he remembered as one of the principal thoroughfares.

He was a plump, little dot of a man, with a genial manner that inspired confidence at once. He readily complied with Joseph's request, giving him his instructions clearly and concisely, and even taking the trouble to repeat them, in order that there might be no mistake about the number of turnings to right and left. Joseph thanked him and turned on his way, cheered by the friendly tones and beaming countenance which seemed like the first ray of sunshine that had fallen across his path.

"I like his face," he said to himself. "I wonder if I shall ever see him again. I've heard my poor father say that in London it is a rare chance if you meet the same person twice."

This occasion, however, was destined to prove the exception to the rule. Having without difficulty found a confectioner's, and procured his refreshment, which was more than acceptable after his protracted fast, he at once hurried back, fearing lest he should have stayed away too long, though in reality he had been barely half an hour. To his great satisfaction, the object of his search had already returned, and his surprise may best be imagined when, on being ushered into the office, he found himself in the presence of the very same old gentleman whose countenance had so impressed him in the street. The latter recognised him immediately.

"Ah!" he exclaimed, looking up from some papers over which he was busy. "We have met before. I wonder it did not occur to me who you were when you spoke to me just now. If you had inquired your way here, I should have suspected your identity; but you were bound in the wrong direction."

Joseph explained the nature of his errand, adding that his mother had supplied him with sandwiches, but that he had nowhere to eat them.

The old gentleman instantly inquired what refreshment he had taken at the confectioner's, and upon learning its light nature, considerately bade him sit down and enjoy his sandwiches, adding that he himself had some letters to prepare for the post, and should be more at liberty to talk with him a little later on.

Joseph, nothing loth, obeyed, and a good half-hour elapsed before Mr. Glover spoke again. At the end of that time, the letters being despatched, he turned to him anew.

"Now you are in a more fit condition to proceed to business," he said. "You know, of course, that I have a recommendation concerning you from my friend Mr. Girling, who has informed me of all the sad circumstances which have led to your present step. As I understand it, you have come to London to make your way."

Joseph assented.

"Well, you know," Mr. Glover continued, "that is by no means a magic process. I frequently find young men imagining that they have only to break free from parental restraint, and get away from all the clogs of the old home, to have a fortune at their fingers' ends. I want to point out to you that this is not the case; a fortune has to be worked for, and there are several qualities which no amount of coaxing can replace. Industry, perseverance, and integrity; without them you may as well at once give up all idea of succeeding."

Joseph intimated that he had every intention of trying to be all that Mr. Glover's words implied.

"Yes," rejoined the old gentleman, "I believe you have, not only from what I have heard of you, but because I can read a good deal in a face. You are fresh from the country, where God's pure air and sunshine make mind as well as body sound. Don't allow town life and ambition to crowd out what you have learned there. Never descend to an action or permit a thought which would not bear the light of that free sunshine. But as I was saying, 'getting on' is no magic process. It has to be worked for, and the trade you have chosen is a very apt illustration of the manner in which you must set about it. You must have a good foundation—dug out, mind! not raised up—beginning below the surface, which to an ignorant person might appear sheer waste and loss of time. Then brick against brick, layer upon layer, beam and joist in their place; no hurry—each operation in its proper turn, until the slates crown all. No beginning half-way. Are you content to do that?"

Joseph hesitated. It is hard to be content to wait under some circumstances.

"There's no choice, sir," he answered.

"Just so; and it is one step forward to be aware of that. But are you willing it should be so, because perseverance will not hold out else? And we shall have that old story over again of the mason who ran up his wall in a hurry, without using his plumb-line to make sure it was perpendicular, and before the edifice reached completion, it fell. It was only one brick a trifle out that began the mischief; but in the same way, out of an overweening haste to achieve success, arise dishonesty, unscrupulousness in work, lax notions of right and wrong; and a building with one false layer in it will not stand the test of time, much less of eternity. You will need to be 'steadfast, immoveable, for as much as you know that your labour'—even such labour as you earn your daily bread by—'is not in vain in the Lord'—consecration to whose service is the only sure foundation."

Joseph was silent.

"I am willing to do anything, sir," he said presently,—"to work early and late to advance myself. Six months ago, I could have afforded to wait. Now I can only submit to what is just and inevitable."

He would have added more; but Mr. Glover interrupted him.

"I know, I know," he said. "'The only son of his mother, and she a widow.' You have a motive for pushing on which no one can but respect. See that you keep it pure, and it will lead you right. Meanwhile, I am going to help you all I can. You will of necessity have to begin low, in order that I may judge of your capability. But true merit is always its own reward; and according to your diligence will be your chance of advancement."

Joseph thanked him for this kind expression of goodwill, and Mr. Glover, having arranged all details of work and wage, went on to talk to him about his home and early associations, at the same time giving him a good deal of counsel, which to one in his present position could not fail to be both useful and beneficial.

"And now," he concluded, "there is one thing more; you will need a lodging."

Joseph assented, adding that he was about to ask his advice on this point. But Mr. Glover's forethought had already been at work on his behalf, and he now handed Joseph the address of a man—Ned Vigus, by name—for many years well-known to himself, with whom he would be likely to find a comfortable home at a moderate rate of payment.

Then taking out his watch, he rose, saying that his dinner hour was at hand, and told Joseph to accompany him, in order that he might put him in the way of finding where Mr. Vigus lived.

After about seven minutes' walk, Mr. Glover halted at the top of a street, and pointing to a house at the further end, left Joseph to pursue his way to his new quarters alone.