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Updated: May 17, 2025
Payson they are not 'very poor, for they take what the great Father sends, and use it with thankfulness. Those who ever want more than they possess are the very poor. But such are not the Wightmans." Payson looked at me a moment or two curiously, and then let his eyes fall to the ground. A little while he mused. Light was breaking in upon him.
We ask for more than we possess, and, because it is not given, we are fretful and impatient. Yes, yes we, not the Wightmans, are poor very poor." And with these words on his lips, my old friend turned from me, and walked slowly away, his head bent in musing attitude to the ground. Not long afterwards, I heard that he had failed.
"And you have learned it?" said I. "I have been trying to learn it," he answered, smiling. "But I find it one of the most difficult of lessons. I do not hope to acquire it perfectly." A cordial invitation to visit his family and take tea with them followed, and was accepted. I must own, that I prepared to go to the Wightmans with some misgivings as to the pleasure I should receive.
And he laughed a pleasant laugh. "Very poor," I said to myself, musingly, as I walked away from the humble abode of the Wightmans. "Very poor. The words have had a wrong application." On the next day I met Payson. "I spent last evening with the Wightmans," said I. "Indeed! How did you find them? Very poor, of course." "I have not met a more cheerful family for years. No, Mr.
If I had failed to perceive this, the conversation of the Paysons would have made it plain, for it was of style and elegance in house-keeping and dress of the ornamental in all its varieties; and in no case of the truly domestic and useful. Once or twice I referred to the Wightmans; but the ladies knew nothing of them, and seemed almost to have forgotten that such persons ever lived.
I inquired of several old acquaintances whom I met during the day for the Wightmans; but all the satisfaction I received was, that Wightman had failed in business several years before, and was now living somewhere in Old Town in a very poor way. "They are miserably poor," said one. "I see Wightman occasionally," said another "he looks seedy enough."
Morton, nor the rest could ever look at Willie's portrait without remembering how near they had once been to losing it, nor without a momentary fear, that some change in life's coming mutations might rob them of the precious treasure, now doubly dear to them. "WHAT has become of the Wightmans?" I asked of my old friend Payson. I had returned to my native place after an absence of several years.
I promised to be with them, in agreement with the invitation; and then we parted. It was during business hours, and as my friend's manner was somewhat occupied and hurried, I did not think it right to trespass on his time. What I had learned of the Wightmans troubled my thoughts. I could not get them out of my mind. They were estimable people.
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