Various - Harper's New Monthly Magazine, Vol. V, No. XXV, June, 1852

"May all good saints defend us! What have you done, señor? We have barely enough to live upon, and you bring two children! I suppose I must beg from door to door, for you and for them. And, for mercy's sake, who are these children? The sons of that brigand, gipsy, thief, murderer, perhaps! I am sure they have never been baptized!" At this moment the infant began to cry. "And pray, Señor Clérigo, how do you mean to feed that child? You know very well that we have no means of paying a nurse. We must spoon-feed it, and nice nights that will give me! It can not be more than six months old, poor little creature," she added, as her master placed it in her arms. "Fortunately, I have a little milk here;" and forgetting her anger, she busied herself in putting some milk on the fire, and then sat down beside it to warm the infant, who seemed half-frozen. Her master watched her in silence, and when at last he saw her kiss its little cheek, he turned away with a quiet smile.

When at length the little one had been hushed into a gentle slumber, and when Margarita, with the assistance of her master's cloak, and some of her own clothes, had made a bed for the elder boy, and placed him in it, the good man told her how the children had been committed to his care, and the promise he had made, though not in words, to protect them.

"That is very right and good, no doubt," said Margarita; "I only want to know how we are all to live? The priest opened his Bible, and read aloud:

"Whosoever shall give to drink unto one of these little ones a cup of cold water only in the name of a disciple, verily I say unto you, he shall in no wise lose his reward."

"Amen!" said Margarita.

Twelve years passed by. The parish priest of San Pietro, who was now more than seventy years old, was sitting in the sunshine at his door. Near him, a boy of about twelve years old was reading aloud from the Bible, looking occasionally toward a tall, fine-looking young man, who was hard at work in a garden close by. Margarita, who was now become blind, sat and listened. Suddenly, the sound of wheels was heard, and the boy exclaimed: "Oh! the beautiful carriage!" A splendid carriage approached rapidly, and stopped before the door. A richly-dressed servant approached, and asked for a cup of water for his master.

"Carlos," said the priest to the younger boy, "go, bring water to the gentleman; and add some wine, if he will accept it. Go quickly!" At this moment the carriage-door opened, and a gentleman, apparently about fifty years old, alighted.

"Are these your nephews?" said he to the priest.

"They are more than that, señor; they are my children – the children of my adoption."

"How is that?"

"I will tell you, señor; for I am old and poor, and know but little of the world, and am in much need of advice; for I know not what to do with these two children." He related the story we have just told. "And now, señor, what do you advise me to do?"

"Apply to one of the nobles of the court, who must assign you a pension of four thousand ducats."

"I asked you for advice, señor, and not for jest."

"And then, your church must be rebuilt. We will call it the Church of the Cup of Cold Water. Here is the plan. See, this is to be the vicarage; and here, divided by this paling – "

"What does this mean? What would you say? And, surely, I remember that voice, that face – "

"I am Don José della Ribeira; and twelve years ago, I was the brigand José. I escaped from prison; and – for the revolution made great changes – am now powerful. My children – "

He clasped them in his arms. And when at length he had embraced them a hundred times, with tears, and smiles, and broken sentences; and when all had in some degree recovered their composure, he took the hand of the priest and said: "Well, father, will you not accept the Church of the Cup of Cold Water?" The old man, deeply affected, turned to Margarita, and repeated:

"Whosoever shall give to drink unto one of these little ones a cup of cold water only in the name of a disciple, verily I say unto you, he shall in no wise lose his reward."

"Amen!" replied the aged woman, her voice tremulous from emotion.

A short time afterward, Don José della Ribeira and his two sons were present at the consecration of the church of San-Pietro-del-Vaso-di-Aqua-Fria, one of the prettiest churches in the neighborhood of Sevilla.

"Bother," said Dick! "What do women know about politics. I wish you'd mind the child – it is crumpling up and playing almighty smash with that flim-flam book, which cost me a one pound one."

Mrs. Avenel submissively bowed her head, and removed the Annual from the hands of the young destructive; the destructive set up a squall, as destructives generally do when they don't have their own way. Dick clapped his hands to his ears. "Whe-e-ew, I can't stand this; come and take a walk, Leslie; I want stretching!" He stretched himself as he spoke, first half way up to the ceiling, and then fairly out of the room.

Randal with his May Fair manner, turned toward Mrs. Avenel as if to apologize for her husband and himself.

"Poor Richard?" said she, "he is in one of his humors – all men have them. Come and see me again soon. When does Almack's open!"

"Nay, I ought to ask you that question, you who know every thing that goes on in our set," said the young serpent. Any tree planted in "our set," if it had been but a crab-tree, would have tempted Mr. Avenel's Eve to a jump at its boughs.

" Are you coming, there?" cried Dick from the foot of the stairs.

"I have just been at our friend Levy's," said Randal when he and Dick were outside the street door. "He, like you, is full of politics – pleasant man – for the business he is said to do."

"Well," said Dick slowly, "I suppose he is pleasant, but make the best of it – and still – "

"Still what, my dear Avenel?" (Randal here for the first time discarded the formal Mister.)

Mr. Avenel. – "Still the thing itself is not pleasant."

Randal (with his soft hollow laugh). – "You mean borrowing money upon more than five per cent?"

"Oh, curse the per centage. I agree with Bentham on the Usury Laws – no shackles in trade for me, whether in money or any thing else. That's not it. But when one owes a fellow money even at two per cent, and 'tis not convenient to pay him, why, somehow or other, it makes one feel small; it takes the British Liberty out of a man!"

"I should have thought you more likely to lend money than to borrow it."

"Well, I guess you are right there, as a general rule. But I tell you what it is, sir; there is too great a mania for competition getting up in this rotten old country of ours. I am as liberal as most men. I like competition to a certain extent, but there is too much of it, sir – too much of it!"

Randal looked sad and convinced. But if Leonard had heard Dick Avenel, what would have been his amaze! Dick Avenel rail against competition! Think there could be too much of it? Of course, "heaven and earth are coming together," said the spider when the housemaid's broom invaded its cobweb. Dick was all for sweeping away other cobwebs; but he certainly thought heaven and earth coming together when he saw a great Turk's-head besom poked up at his own.

Mr. Avenel in his genius for speculation and improvement, had established a factory at Screwstown, the first which had ever eclipsed the church spire with its Titanic chimney. It succeeded well at first. Mr. Avenel transferred to this speculation nearly all his capital. "Nothing," quoth he, "paid such an interest. Manchester was getting worn out – time to show what Screwstown could do. Nothing like competition." But by-and-by a still greater capitalist than Dick Avenel, finding out that Screwstown was at the mouth of a coal mine, and that Dick's profits were great, erected a still uglier edifice, with a still taller chimney. And having been brought up to the business, and making his residence in the town, while Dick employed a foreman and flourished in London, this infamous competitor so managed, first to share, and then gradually to sequester, the profits which Dick had hitherto monopolized, that no wonder Mr. Avenel thought competition should have its limits. "The tongue touches where the tooth aches," as Dr. Riccabocca would tell us. By little and little our juvenile Talleyrand (I beg the elder great man's pardon) wormed out from Dick this grievance, and in the grievance discovered the origin of Dick's connection with the money-lender.