Books: Lessons in Life, For All Who Will Read Them
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T.S. Arthur >> Lessons in Life, For All Who Will Read Them
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On the next day, as the minister was walking down the street, he met
Mr. Larkin. The allusion to this gentleman's personal matters, which
the vestryman had made, still caused him to feel sore; it touched
him in a vulnerable part. He had been talking quite freely, since
then, to every member of the church he happened to meet about the
coolness with which Mr. Malcolm, after running himself in debt, a
thing he had no business to do, called upon the church to raise him
more money. He for one he said, was not going to stand any such
nonsense, and he hoped every member of the church would as firmly
set his face against all such impositions. If they were to pay off
this debt, they would have another twice as large to settle in a few
months. It was the principle of the thing he went against; not that
he cared about a few dollars. As soon as Mr. Larkin saw the minister
a little ahead of him, he determined to give him a piece of his
mind. So when they paused, face to face, and while their hands were
locked in a friendly clasp, he said--
"Look here, friend Malcolm, I have got something against you; and as
I am an independent plain-spoken man, you must not be offended with
me for telling you my mind freely."
"The truth never offends me, Mr. Larkin," said the minister, with a
smile. "I am not faultless, though willing to correct my faults when
I see them."
"Very well." Mr. Larkin spoke in a resolute voice, and seemed to
feel pleasure rather than pain in what he was doing. "In the first
place, then, I am sorry to find that you possess one very bad fault,
common to most ministers, and that is, a disposition to live beyond
your means, and then come down upon the parish to pay your debts."
The blood came rushing to the face of the minister, which his
monitor took to be the plainest kind of evidence that he had hit the
nail fully upon the head. He went on more confidently.
"Now, this, Mr. Malcolm, I consider to be very wrong--very wrong,
indeed!--and especially so in a young minister in his first year,
and in his first parish. If such things are in the green tree, what
are we to expect in the dry? You accepted our call, and were plainly
informed that the salary would be four hundred dollars and rent
free. Upon this our former minister had lived quite comfortably. If
you thought the salary too little, you should not have accepted the
call--accepting it, you should have lived upon it, if you had lived
on bread and water."
Mr. Larkin paused. The minister stood with his eyes cast upon the
pavement, but made no answer. Mr. Larkin resumed--
"It is such things as this that bring scandal upon the church, and
drive right thinking men out of it. It isn't that I value a few
dollars more than I do the wind; but I like to see principle; and
hate all imposition. You are a young man, Mr. Malcolm, and I speak
thus plainly to you for your good. I hope you will not feel
offended."
Mr. Larkin paused, thinking, perhaps, that he had said enough. The
minister's eyes were still upon the pavement, from which he lifted
them as soon as his monitor was done speaking. The flush had left
his cheeks, that were now pale.
"I thank you for your honesty in speaking so plainly, and will try
to profit by what you have told me," said he, calmly. "The best of
us are liable to err."
There was something in the words, voice, and manner of the minister
that Mr. Larkin did not clearly comprehend. He had spoken harshly,
and, he now felt, with some rudeness; but, while there was nothing
in the air with which his reproof was received that evidenced the
conviction of error there was no resentment. A moment before, he
felt like a superior severely reprimanding an inferior; but now he
stood in the presence of one whose calmness and dignity oppressed
him. He was about commencing a confused apology for his apparent
harshness, when Mr. Malcolm bowed and passed on.
Larkin did not feel very comfortable as he walked away. He soon more
than half repented of what he had done, and before night, by way of
atonement for his error, called upon Mr. Elder, and handed him a
check for twenty-five dollars, to help pay off the minister's debt.
So much for the principle concerned.
On the next Sabbath, to his great surprise, when the text was
announced, it was in the following unexpected words--
"Owe no man any thing."
The sermon was didactive and narrative. In the didactic portion, the
minister was exceedingly close in laying down the principles of
honesty in all transactions between man and man, and showed that for
a man to live beyond his known income, when that was sufficient to
supply his actual wants, was dishonest. Then he gave sundry examples
of very common but dishonest practices in those who withhold from
others what is justly their due, and concluded this portion of his
discourse, by plainly stating the glaring dishonesty of which too
many congregations were guilty, in owing their ministers the
difference between their regular and fixed income, and what they
actually needed for their comfortable support and freedom from care.
This, he said, was but a poor commentary upon their love for the
church, and showed too plainly its sordid and selfish quality.
This was felt by many to be quite too pointed and out of place; and
for a young man, like him, very bold and immodest. One member took
out his box and struck the lid a smart, emphatic rap before taking a
pinch of snuff,--another coughed--and three or four of the older
ones gave several loud "a-h-h-hems!" Throughout the church there was
an uneasy movement. But soon all was still again, for the minister
had commenced the narrative of something which he said had occurred
in a parish at no great distance. For a narrative, introduced in a
sermon, all ears are open.
Very deliberately and very minutely did Mr. Malcolm give the leading
facts which we have already placed before the reader, even down to
the sound lecture he had received from Mr. Larkin, and then closed
his sermon, after a few words of application, with a firm repetition
of his text:
"My brethren, 'Owe no man any thing.'"
Of course, there was a buzzing in the hive after this. One made
inquiries of another, and it was soon pretty well understood
throughout, that seven or eight hundred dollars had actually been
promised to the minister instead of the four, which all were very
content that he should receive, thinking little and caring little
whether he lived well or ill upon it. But who was it that had rated
him so soundly? That was the next question. But nobody knew. Some of
those most familiar with Mr. Malcolm boldly asked him the question,
but he declined giving an answer. Poor Mr. Larkin trembled but the
minister kept his own counsel.
On the Tuesday following this pointed discourse, Mr. Malcolm
received his last quarter's salary four weeks in advance, and three
hundred dollars besides. Two hundred of this had been loaned by Mr.
Larkin until such time as it could be collected.
At the next meeting of the vestry, the resignation of Mr. Malcolm as
minister of the parish was received. Before acting upon it, a
church-meeting was called, at which it was unanimously voted to
double the ministers salary. That is, make it eight hundred. Much
was said in his favour as a man of fine talents and sincere piety.
In fact, the congregation generally had become much attached to him,
and could not bear to think of his leaving them. Money was no
consideration now.
The vote of the meeting was conveyed to Mr. Malcolm. He expressed
his thanks for the liberal offer, but again declined remaining.
Another church-meeting was called, and a thousand dollars
unhesitatingly named as the minister's salary, if he would stay.
Many doubled their subscriptions, and said that, if necessary, they
would quadruple them.
When Mr. Malcolm determined to leave C--, he had no parish in
view; but he did not think it would be useful for him to remain. Nor
had he any in view when he declined accepting the offer of eight
hundred dollars. But it was different when the offer of a thousand
dollars came, for then he held in his hand a call to a neighbouring
parish, where the salary was the same.
The committee to wait upon him, and urge him to accept the still
better terms offered, was composed of Messrs. Elder, Larkin, and
three others among the oldest and most influential members. He
answered their renewed application by handing them the letter he had
just received. It was read aloud.
"If money is any object, Mr. Malcolm," said Larkin, promptly, "you
need not leave us. Twelve hundred can be as easily made up to you as
a thousand."
The minister was slightly disturbed at this. He replied in a low,
unsteady voice:
"Money has no influence with me in this matter. All I ask is a
comfortable maintenance for my family. This, your first offer of
eight hundred dollars would have given; but I declined it, with no
other place in view, because I thought it best for both you and me
that we should separate. I have tried only to look to the good of
the church in my decisions, and I will still endeavour to keep that
end before my eyes."
"Have you accepted the call?" asked Mr. Elder.
"No, I have but just received it!"
"Have you positively determined that you will not remain with us?"
"I should not like to say positively."
"Very well. Now, let me say that the desire to have you remain is
general, and that the few who have the management of the church
affairs, and not the many who make up the congregation, are to blame
for previously existing wrongs and errors. From the many comes a
strong desire to have you stay. They say that your ministrations
have been of great spiritual benefit to them, and that if you go
away, they will suffer loss. Under these circumstances, Mr. Malcolm,
are you willing to break your present connection?"
"Give me a few hours to reflect," replied the minister, a good deal
affected by this unlooked-for appeal. "I wish to do right; and in
doing it, am ready to cut off the right hand and pluck out the right
eye. As Heaven is my witness, I set before me no earthly reward. If
I do consent to remain, I will not receive more than your first
offer of eight hundred dollars, for on that I can live comfortably."
When the committee again waited on Mr. Malcolm, to receive his
answer, it was in the affirmative; but he was decided in his
resolution not to receive more than eight hundred dollars. But the
congregation was just as much decided on the other side, and
although only two hundred dollars a quarter were paid to their
minister by the treasurer, more than fifty dollars flowed in to him
during the same period in presents of one useful thing and another,
from friends known and unknown.
The parish of C--had quite reformed its mode of paying the
minister.
HAD I BEEN CONSULTED.
"HE'S too independent for me," said Matthew Page. "Too independent
by half. Had I been consulted he would have done things very
differently. But as it is, he will drive his head against the wall
before he knows where he is."
"Why don't you advise him to act differently?"
"Advise him, indeed! Oh, no--let him go on in his own way, as he's
so fond of it. Young men now-a-days think they know every thing. The
experience of men like me goes for nothing with them. Advise him! He
may go to the dogs; but he'll get no advice from me unasked."
"You really think he will ruin himself if he goes on in the way he
is now going?"
"I know it. Simple addition will determine that, in five minutes. In
the first place, instead of consulting me, or some one who knows all
about it, he goes and buys that mill for just double what it is
worth, and on the mere representation of a stranger, who had been
himself deceived, and had an interest in misleading him, in order to
get a bad bargain off of his hands. But that is just like your young
chaps, now-a-days. They know every thing, and go ahead without
talking to anybody. I could have told him, had he consulted me,
that, instead of making money by the concern, he would sink all he
had in less than two years."
"He is sanguine as to the result."
"I know. He told me, yesterday, that he expected not only to clear
his land for nothing, but to make two or three thousand dollars a
year out of the lumber for the next ten years. Preposterous!"
"Why didn't you disabuse him of his error, Mr. Page? It was such a
good opportunity."
"Let him ask for my advice, if he wants it. It's a commodity I never
throw away."
"You might save him from the loss of his little patrimony."
"He deserves to lose it for being such a fool. Buy a steam saw-mill
two miles from his land, and expect to make money by clearing it?
Ridiculous!"
"Your age and experience will give your advice weight with him, I am
sure, Mr. Page. I really think you ought to give a word or two of
warning, at least, and thus make an effort to prevent his running
through with what little he has. A capital to start with in the
world is not so easily obtained, and it is a pity to see Jordan
waste his as he is doing."
"No, sir," replied Page. "I shall have nothing to say to him. If he
wants my opinion, and asks for it, he shall have it in welcome; not
without."
The individuals about whom these persons were conversing was a young
man named Jordan, who, at majority, came into the possession of
fifty acres of land and about six thousand dollars. The land was
still in forest and lay about two miles from a flourishing town in
the West, which stood on the bank of a small river that emptied into
the Ohio some fifty miles below.
As soon as Jordan became the possessor of the property, he began to
turn his thoughts toward its improvement, in order to increase its
value. The land did not lie contiguous to his native town, but near
to S--, where he was a stranger. To S--he went, and staying at
one of the hotels, met with a very pleasant old gentleman who had
just built a steam saw-mill on the banks of the river, and was
getting in the engine preparatory to putting it in operation. This
man's name was Barnaby. He had conceived the idea that a steam
saw-mill at that point would be a fortune to any one, and had
proceeded to the erection of one forthwith. Logs were to be cut
some miles up the river and floated down to the mill, and, after
being there manufactured into lumber, to be rafted to a market
somewhere between that and New Orleans. Mr. Barnaby had put the
whole thing down upon paper, and saw at a glance that it was an
operation in which any man's fortune was certain. But, before his
mill was completed, he had good reason to doubt the success of his
new scheme. He had become acquainted with Matthew Page, a shrewd old
resident of S--, who satisfied him, after two or three interviews,
that, instead of making a fortune, he would stand a fair chance of
losing his whole investment.
Barnaby was about as well satisfied as he wished to be on this head,
when young Jordan arrived in S--. His business there was soon
known, and Barnaby saw a chance of getting out of his unpromising
speculation. To Jordan he became at once very attentive and polite;
and gradually drew from him a full statement of the business that
brought him to S--. It did not take a very long time for Barnaby
to satisfy him, that, by purchasing his mill and sawing up the heavy
timber with which his land was covered, he would make a great deal
of money, and double the price of his land at the same time. Figures
showed the whole result as plain as daylight, and Jordan saw it
written out before him as distinctly as he ever saw in his
multiplication table that two and two are four. The fairness of
Barnaby he did not think of doubting for an instant. His age,
address, intelligence, and asseveration of strict honour in every
transaction in life, were enough to win his entire confidence.
Five thousand dollars was the price of the mill. The terms upon
which it was offered to Jordan were, three thousand dollars in cash,
a thousand in six months, and the balance in twelve months.
Shortly after Jordan arrived in the village, he became acquainted
with Mr. Page into whose family, a very pleasant one, he had been
introduced by a friend. For the old gentleman he felt a good deal of
respect; and although it did not occur to him to consult him in
regard to his business, thinking that he understood what he was
about very well, yet, if Mr. Page had volunteered a suggestion, he
would have listened to it and made it the subject of reflection. In
fact, a single seriously expressed doubt as to the safety of the
investment he was about making, coming from a man like Mr. Page,
would have effectually prevented its being made, for Jordan would
not have rested until he understood the very nature and groundwork
of the objection. He would then have seen a new statement of
figures, heard a new relation of facts and probabilities, and
learned that Barnaby was selling at the suggestion of Mr. Page,
after being fully convinced of the folly of proceeding another step.
But no warning came. The self-esteem of old Matthew Page, who felt
himself to be something of an oracle in S--, was touched, because
the young man had not consulted him; and now he might go to the
dogs, for all he cared.
The preliminaries of sale were soon arranged. Jordan was as eager to
enter upon his money-making as Barnaby was to get rid of his
money-losing scheme. Three thousand dollars cash were paid, and
notes given for the balance. An overseer, or manager of the whole
business to be entered upon, was engaged at five hundred dollars a
year; some twenty hands to cut timber, haul it to the mill, and saw
it up when there, were hired; and twenty yokes of oxen bought for
the purpose of hauling the logs from the woods, a distance of two
miles. The price of a dollar a log, which Barnaby expected to pay
for timber floated down the river, had been considered so dear a
rate as to preclude all hope of profit in the business. The great
advantages which Jordan felt that he possessed was in himself owning
the timber, which had only to be cut and taken to the mill. He had,
strangely enough, forgotten to make a calculation of what each log
would cost him to cut and haul two miles. There were the
wood-choppers at a dollar a day, the teamsters at seventy-five cents
a day, and four pairs of oxen to each log to feed. Eight logs a day
he was told that each team would haul, and he believed it. But two
or three logs were the utmost that could be accomplished, for in the
whole distance there was not a quarter of a mile of good solid road.
Six months in time, and a thousand dollars in money, over and above
wages to his men, were spent in getting the mill into running order.
Jordan had bought under the representation that it was all ready for
starting. After he had got in possession, he learned that Barnaby
had tried, but in vain, to get the mill to work.
In the mean time, the young man was extending his circle of
acquaintance among the families of the place in most of which he was
well received and well liked. Old Matthew Page had an only daughter,
a beautiful young girl, who was the pride of the village. The first
time she and Jordan met, they took a fancy to each other. But as
Jordan was rather a modest young man, he did not make very bold
advances toward the maiden, although he felt as if he should like to
do so, were there any hope of his advances being met in a right
spirit.
At the end of a year, all the young man's money was gone, and his
last note to Barnaby was due. There was a small pile of lumber by
his mill--a couple of hundred dollars worth, perhaps--for which he
had found no sale, as the place was fully supplied, and had been for
years, by a small mill that was worked by the owner with great
economy. The sending of his lumber down the river was rather a
serious operation for him, and required a good deal more lumber than
he had yet been able to procure from his mill, which had never yet
run for twenty-four hours without something getting wrong. These two
or three hundred dollars' worth of lumber had cost him about fifteen
hundred dollars in wages, &c. Still he was sanguine, and saw his way
clear through the whole of it, if it were not for the fact that his
capital were exhausted.
Matthew Page was looking on very coolly, and saying to himself, "If
he had consulted me," but not offering the young man a word of
voluntary counsel.
To continue his operations and bring out the ultimate prosperous
result, Jordan threw one-half of his land into market and forced the
sale at five dollars an acre. The proceeds of this sale did not last
him over six months. Then he got a raft afloat, containing about a
thousand dollars' worth of lumber, and sent it off under charge of
his overseer, who sold it at Cincinnati, and absconded with the
money.
In the mean time, Barnaby was pressing for the payment of the last
note, which had been protested, and after threatening to sue, time
after time, finally put his claim into the hands of an attorney, who
had a writ served upon Jordan.
By this time, old Mr. Page began to think it best, even though not
consulted, to volunteer a little advice to the young man. The reason
of this may be inferred. Jordan was beginning to be rather
particular in attention to Edith, his daughter; and apart from the
fact that he had wasted his money in an unprofitable scheme, and had
not been prudent enough to consult him, old Matthew Page had no
particular objection to him as a son-in-law. His family stood high
in the State, and his father, previous to his death, had been for
many years in the State senate. The idea that Jordan would take a
fancy to his daughter had not once crossed the mind of Mr. Page, or
he would not have stood so firmly upon his dignity in the matter of
being consulted.
Rather doubting as to the reception he should meet from the young
man, he called upon him, one day, when the following conversation
took place:
"I'm afraid, Mr. Jordan," said Page, after some commonplace
chitchat, "that your saw-mill business is not going to turn out as
well as you expected."
"It has not, so far, certainly," replied Jordan, frankly. "But this
is owing to the fact of my having been deceived in the mill, and in
the integrity of my manager; not to the nature of the business
itself. I am still sanguine of success."
"Will you allow me to make a suggestion or two? I think I can show
you that you are in error in regard to the business itself."
"Most gladly will I receive any suggestion," returned Jordan.
"Though I am not apt to seek advice--a fault of character,
perhaps--I am ever ready to listen to it and weigh it
dispassionately, when given. A doubt as to the result of the
business, if properly carried out, has never yet crossed my mind."
"I have always doubted it from the first. Indeed, I knew that you
could not succeed."
"Then, my dear sir, why did you not tell me so?" said Jordan,
earnestly.
"If you had consulted me, I would"--
"I never dreamed of consulting any one about it. I had confidence in
Mr. Barnaby's statements; but more in my own judgment, based upon
the data he furnished me."
"But I have none in either Barnaby or his data."
"I have none in him, for he has shamefully deceived me; but his data
are fixed facts, and therefore cannot lie."
"There you err again. Barnaby knew that the data he gave you was
incorrect. I had, myself, demonstrated this to him before he went
far enough to involve himself seriously. Something led him to doubt
the success of his project, and he came and consulted me on the
subject. I satisfied him in ten minutes that it wouldn't do, and he
at once abandoned it. Unfortunately, you arrived just at this time,
and were made to bear the loss of his mistake."
"You are certainly not serious in what you say, Mr. Page!"
"I never was more serious in my life," returned the old gentleman.
"And you permitted me to be made the victim, upon your own
acknowledgment, of a shameful swindle, and did not expend even a
breath to save me!"
"I am not used to be spoken to in that way, young man," replied Mr.
Page, coldly, and with a slightly offended air. "Nor am I in the
habit of forcing my advice upon everybody."
"If you saw a man going blindfold towards the brink of a precipice,
wouldn't you force your advice upon him?"
"Perhaps I might. But as you were not going blindfold over a
precipice, I did not see that it was my business to interfere."
A cutting reply was on the lips of Jordan, but a thought of Edith
cooled him off suddenly, and he in a milder and more respectful tone
of voice, "I should be glad, Mr. Page, if you would demonstrate the
error under which I have been labouring in regard to this business.
If there is an error, I wish to see it; and can see it as quickly as
any one, if it really exists, and the proper means of seeing it are
furnished."
The change in the young man's manner softened Mr. Page, and he sat
down, pencil in hand, and by the aid of the answers which the actual
experience of Jordan enabled him to give, showed him, in ten
minutes, that the more land he cleared and the more logs he sawed
up, the poorer he would become.
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