Edward Mills and George Benton

These two were distantly related to each other – seventh cousins, or something of that sort. While still babies they became orphans, and were adopted by the Brants, a childless couple, who quickly grew very fond of them. The Brants were always saying: “Be pure, honest, sober, industrious, and considerate of others, and success in life is assure”. They repeated it to their children some thousands of times; it was painted over the nursery door, and was about the first thing they learned to read. The Brants changed the wording a little, and said: “Be pure, honest, sober, industrious, considerate, and you will never lack friends”.

Baby Mills was a comfort to everybody about him. When he wanted candy and could not have it, he listened to reasons, and contented himself without it. When baby Benton wanted candy, he cried for it until he got it. Baby Mills took care of his toys; baby Benton always destroyed his in a very brief time, and then became so disagreeable that, in order to have peace in the house, little Edward was persuaded to give up his playthings to him.

When the children were a little older, George became a heavy expense in one respect: he took no care of his clothes; consequently, he shone frequently in new ones, which was not the case with Eddie. The boys grew fast. Eddie was an increasing comfort, George an increasing trouble. It was always sufficient to say, in answer to Eddie’s petitions, “I would rather you did not do it,” – meaning swimming, skating, picnicking, berrying, circusing, and all sorts of things which boys delight in. but not for George; he had to be humoured in his desires, or he would carry them with a high hand[23]. Naturally, no boy got more swimming, skating, berrying, and so forth than he; no boy ever had a better time. The good Brants did not allow the boys to play out after nine in summer evenings; they were sent to bed at that hour. Eddie honorably remained, but George usually slipped out of the window at about ten, and enjoyed himself till midnight. It seemed impossible to make George give up this bad habit, but the Brants managed it at last with apples and marbles. The good Brants gave all their time and attention to regulate George. They said with grateful tears in their eyes, that Eddie needed no efforts, he was so good, so considerate, and in all ways so perfect.

By and by the boys were big enough to work, so they were apprenticed to a trade. Edward went voluntarily; George was coaxed and bribed. Edward worked hard and faithfully, and ceased to be an expense to the good Brants; they praised him, so did his master; but George ran away, and it cost Mr. Brant both money and trouble to hunt him up and get him back. By and by he ran away again – more money and more trouble. He ran away a third time – and stole a few little things to carry with him. Trouble and expense for Mr. Brant once more, and besides, it was with the greatest difficulty that he succeeded in persuading the master to let the youth go unprosecuted for the theft.

Edward worked steadily along, and in time became a full partner in his master’s business. George did not improve; he kept the loving hearts of his aged benefactors full of trouble and their hands full of inventive activities to protect him from ruin. Edward, as a boy, had interested himself in Sunday schools, debating societies, anti-tobacco organizations, anti-profanity associations and all such things. As a man, he was quiet but steady and reliable helper in the church, the temperance societies, and all movements looking to the aiding and uplifting of men[24]. This attracted no attention – for it was his “natural bent”.

Finally, the old people died. They will testified their loving pride in Edward, and left their little property to George – because he “needed it”; whereas, such was not the case with Edward. The property was left to George conditionally: he must buy out Edward’s partner with it; otherwise, it must go to a benevolent organization called the Prisoner’s Friend Society. The old people left a letter, in which they begged their dear son Edward to take their place and watch over George, and help and shield him as they had done.

Edward dutifully obeyed, and George became his partner in the business. He was not a valuable partner: he had been drinking before; he soon developed into a constant tippler now, and his flesh and eyes showed the fact unpleasantly. Edward had been courting a sweet and kind girl for some time. They loved each other dearly. But about this period George began to haunt her tearfully and imploringly, and at last she went crying to Edward and said her high and holy duty was plain before her – she must not let her own selfish desire interfere with it: she must marry “poor George” and “reform him”. It would break her heart, she knew it would, and so on; but duty was duty. So she married George, and Edward’s heart came very near breaking, as well as her own. However, Edward recovered, and married another girl – a very excellent one she was, too.

Children came to both families. Mary did her honest best to reform her husband, but the contract was too large. George went on drinking, and by and by he fell to misusing her and the little one sadly. A great many good people strove with George, but he calmly took such efforts as their duty, and did not mend his ways. He added a vice, presently – that of secret gambling. He got deeply in debt; he borrowed money on the firm’s credit, and did it so successfully that one morning the sheriff took possession of the establishment, and the two cousins found themselves penniless.

Times were hard now, and they grew worse. Edward moved his family into a garret, and walked the streets day and night, seeking work. He was astonished to see how soon his face became unwelcome; he was astonished and hurt to see how quickly the ancient interest which people had had in him faded out and disappeared. Still he must get work; so he swallowed his pain, and toiled on in search of it. At last he got a job of carrying bricks up a ladder, and was a grateful man in consequence; but after that nobody knew him or cared anything about him. He was not able to keep up his dues in the various moral organizations to which he belonged, and had to endure the sharp pain of seeing himself in disgrace.

But the faster Edward died out of public knowledge and interest, the faster George rose in them. He was found lying, ragged and drunk, in the gutter one morning. A member of the Ladies’ Temperance Refuge[25] fished him out, took him in hand, got up a subscription for him, kept him sober a whole week, then got a situation for him. An account of it was published.

General attention was thus drawn to the poor fellow, and a great many people came forward, and helped him toward reform with their countenance and encouragement. He did not drink a drop for two months, and meantime was the pet of the good[26]. Then he fell – in the gutter, and there was general sorrow and lamentation. But the noble sisterhood rescued him again. They cleaned him up, they fed him, they listened to the mourning music of his repentance, and they got him his situation again. An account of this, also, was published, and the town was drowned in happy tears over the restoration of the poor beast and struggling victim of the fatal bowl. A meeting was held, another subscription was made for him, and then George Benton, escorted by a detachment of the Ladies of the Refuge, stepped forward upon the platform and signed the pledge. The air burst with applause and everybody cried for joy. Everybody shook hands, his salary was enlarged next day, he was the talk of the town, and its hero. An account of it was published.

George Benton fell, regularly, every three months, but every time he was faithfully rescued and worked with, and good situations were found for him. Finally, he was taken around the country lecturing, as a reformed drunkard, and he had great houses and did an immense amount of good.

He was so popular at home, and so trusted – during his sober intervals – that he managed to use the name of a principal citizen, and get a large sum of money at the bank. A mighty pressure was put upon to save him from the consequences of his forgery, and it was partially successful – he was “sent up” for only two years. When, at the end of a year, the tireless efforts of the benevolent were crowned with success, and he came out of the prison with a pardon in his pocket, the Prisoner’s Friend Society met him at the door with a situation and a comfortable salary. And all the other benevolent people came forward and gave him advice, encouragement, and help. Edward Mills had once applied to the Prisoner’s Friend Society for a situation, when in dire need, but the question, “Have you been a prisoner?” made brief work of his case.

While all these things were going on, Edward Mills was quietly making his head[27]. He was still poor, but got steady and sufficient salary, as the respected and trusted cashier of a bank. George Benton never came near him, and was never heard to inquire about him. George was often absent from the town; there were ill reports about him, but nothing definite.

One winter night some masked burglars forced their way into the bank, and found Edward Mills there alone. They commanded him to reveal the “combination”, so that they could get into the safe. He refused. They threatened his life. He said his employers trusted him, and he could not be traitor to that trust. He could die, if he must, but while he lived he would be faithful; he would not reveal the “combination”. The burglars killed him.

The detectives hunted down the criminals; the chief one proved to be George Benton. A wide sympathy was felt for the widow and orphans of the dead man, and all the newspapers in the land begged that all the banks in the land would testify their appreciation of the fidelity and heroism of the murdered cashier by coming forward with a generous contribution of money to support the family. The result was solid cash of more than five hundred dollars – an average of nearly three-eights of a cent for each bank of the Union. The cashier’s own bank testified its gratitude by trying to show (but failed in it) that the peerless servant’s accounts were not square, and that he himself had knocked his brains out with a bludgeon to escape detection and punishment.

George Benton was brought to trial. Then everybody seemed to forget the widow and orphans for poor George. Everything that money and influence could do was done to save him, but it all failed; he was tried and sentenced to death. Immediately the Governor was besieged with petitions for commutation or pardon; they were brought by tearful young girls, by sorrowed old maids; by deputation of pathetic widows; by mobs of impressive orphans. But no, the Governor – for once – would not yield.

Now George Benton experienced religion. The glad news flew all around. From that time forth his cell was always full of girls and women and fresh flowers. All the day long there was prayer, and hymn singing, and thanksgivings, and homilies, and tears, with never an interruption, except an occasional five-minute intermission for refreshments.

The sort of thing continued up the very gallows, and George Benton went proudly home, in the black cap, before a wailing audience. His grave had fresh flowers on it every day, for awhile, and the headstone had these words, under a hand pointing upward:”He has fought the good fight”.

The brave cashier’s headstone has this inscription:” Be pure, honest, sober, industrious, considerate, and you will never – “. Nobody knows who gave the order to leave it that way, but it was so given. The cashier’s family are in stringent circumstances now, it is said; but no matter; a lot of appreciative people, who were not willing that an act so brave and true as his should go unrewarded, have collected forty-two thousands dollars – and built a Memorial Church with it.

Phonetic exercises