Off Hand Sketches, a Little Dashed with Humour

T >> T.S. Arthur >> Off Hand Sketches, a Little Dashed with Humour

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

"Homœopathic medicines?"

"Yes, sir."

"In powders, I suppose?"

"No, sir; in little, grains or pellets, like these."

And he drew from his pocket a diminutive vial, the smallest I had
ever seen, in which were a number of little white granules, about
the size of the head of a pin. A printed label was wound around the
vial, and it bore the word "Arsenicum." It passed from hand to hand,
and all read it.

"You gave this?" said the volunteer spokesman.

"Yes, sir; that and aconite."

"How much is a dose?"

"From one to five or six grains."

"Or granules?"

"Yes."

The little bottle was returned to the man, who placed it in his
pocket. A pause ensued. The truth was plain enough to us all. The
individual whose sagacity, or better information about what was
going on in the world, had saved a most painful denouement to this
affair, said to the man, in a way as little as possible calculated
to wound his feelings--

"You are, of course, surprised at this proceeding--this seemingly
wanton intrusion upon your grief. But you will understand it when I
tell you, that a lodger, in a room adjoining yours, who knew nothing
of homœopathy, heard you speak of giving your child several grains
of aconite and arsenic. You can easily infer the impression upon his
mind. This morning, he related what he had heard, when an individual
here present, who suspected the truth, suggested that you be sent
for and asked the questions which you have so satisfactorily
answered. Do not, let me beg of you, feel hurt. What we have done
was but an act of justice to yourself."

The man smiled sadly, and, thanking us with eyes fast filling with
tears, rose up quickly to conceal his emotion, and retired from the
room.

"Landlord," said I, an hour afterwards, "I want my valise taken out
of No. 10, and put into some other room."

"Why so? Isn't the room a pleasant one?"

"Oh, yes; but I'd like a change."

"Very well; we'll put you in No. 16."

I was the "lodger in the room adjoining," and didn't, therefore,
wish to appear on the premises and be known by the man, as the
getter up of a suspicion against him. I did not come home to dinner,
and kept out of the way till after dark.

When I returned to the hotel, I was relieved to find that the
bereaved parents had departed with the dead body of their child. But
the whole company were now at liberty to laugh at what had occurred
to their hearts' content, and to laugh at me in particular. I stood
it that evening, as well as I could; but finding, on the next day,
that it was renewed with as keen a zest as ever, concluded to close
up my business on the spot, and leave the place--which I did.

THAT JOHN MASON.

"WHAT kind of people have you here?" I asked of one of my first
acquaintances, after becoming a denizen of the pleasant little
village of Moorfield.

"Very clever people, with one or two exceptions," he replied. "I am
sure you will like us very well."

"Who are the exceptions?" I asked. "For I wish to keep all such
exceptions at a distance. Being a stranger, I will, wisely, take a
hint in time. It's an easy matter to shun an acquaintanceship; but
by no means so easy to break it off, after it is once formed."

"Very truly said, Mr. Jones. And I will warn you, in time, of one
man in particular. His name is John Mason. Keep clear of him, if you
wish to keep out of trouble. He's as smooth and oily as a whetstone;
and, like a whetstone, abrades every thing he touches. He's a bad
man, that John Mason."

"Who, or what is he?" I asked.

"He's a lawyer, and one of the principal holders of property in the
township. But money can't gild him over. He's a bad man, that John
Mason, and my advice to you and to every one, is to keep clear of
him. I know him like a book."

"I'm very much obliged to you," said I, "for your timely caution: I
will take care to profit by it."

My next acquaintance bore pretty much the same testimony, and so did
the next. It was plain that John Mason was not the right kind of a
man, and rather a blemish upon the village of Moorfield,
notwithstanding he was one of the principal property-holders in the
township.

"If it wasn't for that John Mason," I heard on this hand, and, "If
it wasn't for that John Mason!" I heard on the other hand, as my
acquaintanceship among the people extended. Particularly bitter
against him was the first individual who had whispered in my ear a
friendly caution; and I hardly ever met with him, that he hadn't
something to say about that John Mason.

About six months after my arrival in Moorfield, I attended a public
meeting, at which the leading men of the township were present. Most
of them were strangers to me. At this meeting, I fell in company
with a very pleasant man, who had several times addressed those
present, and always in such a clear, forcible, and common-sense way,
as to carry conviction to all but a few, who carped and quibbled at
every thing he said, and in a very churlish manner. Several of those
quibblers I happened to know. He represented one set of views, and
they another. His had regard for the public good; theirs looked, it
was plain, to sectional and private interests.

"How do you like our little town, Mr. Jones?" said this individual
to me, after the meeting had adjourned, and little knots of
individuals were formed here and there for conversation.

"Very well," I replied.

"And the people?" he added.

"The people," I answered, "appear to be about a fair sample of what
are to be found everywhere. Good and bad mixed up together."

"Yes. That, I suppose, is a fair general estimate."

"Of course," I added, "we find, in all communities, certain
individuals, who stand out more prominent than the
rest--distinguished for good or evil. This appears to be the case
here, as well as elsewhere."

"You have already discovered, then, that, even in Moorfield, there
are some bad men."

"Oh, yes. There's that John Mason, for instance."

The man looked a little surprised, but remarked, without any change
of tone--"So, you have heard of him, have you?"

"Oh, yes."

"As a very bad man?"

"Yes, very well. Have you ever met him?"

"No, and never wish to."

"You've seen him, I presume?"

"Never. Is he here?"

The man glanced round the room, and then replied--"I don't see him."

"He was here, I suppose?"

"Oh, yes, and addressed the meeting several times."

"In one of those sneering, ill-tempered answers to your remarks, no
doubt."

The man slightly inclined his head, as if acknowledging a
compliment.

"It's a pity," said I, "that such men as this John Mason often have
wealth and some shrewdness of mind to give them power in the
community."

"Perhaps," said my auditor, "your prejudices against this man are
too strong. He's not perfect, I know; but even the devil is often
painted blacker than he is. If you knew him, I rather think you
would estimate him a little differently."

"I don't wish to know him. Opportunities have offered, but I have
always avoided an introduction."

"Who first gave you the character of this man?" asked the individual
with whom I was conversing.

"Mr. Laxton," I replied. "Do you know him?"

"Oh, yes, very well. He speaks hard of Mason, does he?"

"He has cause, I believe."

"Did he ever explain to you what it was?"

"Not very fully; but he gives him a general bad character, and says
he has done more to injure the best interests of the village than
any ten of its worst enemies that exist."

"Indeed! That is a sweeping declaration. But I will frankly own that
I cannot join in so broad a condemnation of the man, although he has
his faults, and no one knows them, I think, better than I do."

This made no impression upon me. The name of John Mason was
associated in my mind with every thing that was bad, and I replied
by saying that I was very well satisfied in regard to his character,
and didn't mean to have any thing to do with him while I lived in
Moorfield.

Some one interrupted our conversation at this point, and I was
separated from my very agreeable companion. I met him frequently
afterwards, and he was always particularly polite to me, and once or
twice asked me if I had fallen in with that John Mason yet; to which
I always replied in the negative, and expressed myself as ever in
regard to the personage mentioned.

Careful as we may be to keep out of trouble, we are not always
successful in our efforts. When I removed to Moorfield, I supposed
my affairs to be in a very good way; but things proved to be
otherwise. I was disappointed, not only in the amount I expected to
receive from the business I followed in the village, but
disappointed in the receipt of money I felt sure of getting by a
certain time.

When I first came to Moorfield, I bought a piece of property from
Laxton--this business transaction made us acquainted--and paid, cash
down, one-third of the purchase-money, the property remaining as
security for the two-thirds, which I was under contract to settle at
a certain time. My first payment was two thousand dollars.
Unfortunately, when the final payment became due, I was not in
funds, and the prospect of receiving money within five or six months
was any thing but good. In this dilemma, I waited upon Laxton, and
informed him of my disappointment. His face became grave.

"I hope it will not put you to any serious inconvenience."

"What?" he asked.

"My failure to meet this payment on the property. You are fully
secured, and within six months I will be able to do what I had hoped
to do at this time."

"I am sorry, Mr. Jones," he returned, "but I have made all my
calculations to receive the sum due at this time, and cannot do
without it."

"But I haven't the money, Mr. Laxton, and have fully explained to
you the reason why."

"That is your affair, not mine, Mr. Jones. If you have been
disappointed at one point, it is your business to look to another. A
contract is a contract."

"Will you not extend the time of payment?" said I.

"No, sir, I cannot."

"What will you do?"

"Do? You ask a strange question."

"Well, what will you do?"

"Why, raise the money on the property."

"How will you do that?"

"Sell it, of course."

I asked no further questions, but left him and went away. Before
reaching home, to which place I was retiring in order to think over
the position in which I was placed, and determine what steps to
take, if any were left to me, I met the pleasant acquaintance I had
made at the town-meeting.

"You look grave, Mr. Jones," said he, as we paused, facing each
other. "What's the matter?"

I frankly told him my difficulty.

"So Laxton has got you in his clutches, has he?" was the simple,
yet, I perceived, meaning reply that he made.

"I am in his clutches, certainly," said I. "And will not get out of
them very easily, I apprehend."

"What will he do?"

"He will sell the property at auction."

"It won't bring his claim under the hammer."

"No, I suppose not, for that is really more than the property is
worth."

"Do you think so?"

"Certainly I do. I know the value of every lot of ground in the
township, and know that you have been taken in in your purchase."

"What do you suppose it will bring at a forced sale?"

"Few men will bid over twenty-five hundred dollars."

"You cannot be serious?"

"I assure you I am. He, however, will overbid all, up to four
thousand. He will, probably, have it knocked down to him at three
thousand, and thus come into the unencumbered possession of a piece
of property upon which he has received two thousand dollars."

"But three thousand dollars will not satisfy his claim against me."

"No. You will still owe him a thousand dollars."

"Will he prosecute his claim?"

"He?" And the man smiled. "Yes, to the last extremity, if there be
hope of getting any thing."

"Then I am certainly in a bad way."

"I'm afraid you are, unless you can find some one here who will
befriend you in the matter."

"There is no one here who will lend me four thousand dollars upon
that piece of property," said I.

"I don't know but one man who is likely to do it," was answered.

"Who is that?" I asked, eagerly.

"John Mason."

"John Mason! I'll never go to him."

"Why not?"

"I might as well remain where I am as get into his hands--a sharper
and a lawyer to boot. No, no. Better to bear the evils that we have,
than fly to others that we know not of."

"You may get assistance somewhere else, but I am doubtful," said the
man; and, bowing politely, passed on, and left me to my own
unpleasant reflections.

Laxton made as quick work of the business as the nature of the case
would admit, and in a very short time the property was advertised at
public sale. As the time for the sale approached, the great desire
to prevent the sacrifice that I was too well assured would take
place, suggested the dernier resort of ailing upon Mason; but my
prejudice against the man was so strong, that I could not get my own
consent to do so.

On the day before the sale, I met the individual before alluded to.

"Have you been to see Mason?" he asked.

I shook my head.

"Then you have made up your mind to let that scoundrel, Laxton,
fleece you out of your property?"

"I see no way of preventing it."

"Why don't you try Mason?"

"I don't believe it would do any good."

"I think differently."

"If he did help me out of this difficulty," I replied, "it would
only be to get me into a more narrow corner."

"You don't know any such thing," said the man, a different tone from
any in which he had yet taken when Mason was the subject of our
remarks.

"Think, for a moment, upon the basis of your prejudice; it lies
mainly upon the assertion of Laxton, from your own experience has
proved to be a scoundrel. The fact is, your estimate of Mason's
character is entirely erroneous. Laxton hates him, because he has
circumvented him more than a dozen times in his schemes of iniquity,
and will circumvent him again, if I do not greatly err, provided you
give him the opportunity of doing so."

There was force in the view. True enough; what confidence was there
to be placed in Laxton's words? And if Mason had circumvented him;
as was alleged, of course there was a very good reason for
detraction.

"At what hour do you think I can see him?" said I.

"I believe he is usually in about twelve o'clock."

"I will see him," said I, with emphasis.

"Do so," returned the man; "and may your interview be as
satisfactory as you can desire."

At twelve, precisely, I called upon Mason, not without many
misgivings, I must own. I found my prejudices still strong; and as
to the good result, I could not help feeling serious doubts. On
entering his office, I found no one present but the individual under
whose advice I had called.

"Mr. Mason is not in," said I, feeling a little disappointed.

"Oh, yes, he is in," was replied. I looked around, and then turned
my eyes upon the man's face. I did not exactly comprehend its
expression.

"My name is John Mason," said he, bowing politely; "so be seated,
and let us talk over the business upon which you have called on me."

I needed no invitation to sit down, for I could not have kept my
feet if I had tried, so suddenly and completely did his words
astonish and confound me.

I will not repeat the confused, blundering apologies I attempted to
make, nor give his gentlemanly replies. Enough, that an hour before
the time at which the sale was advertised to take place on the next
day, I waited upon Laxton.

"Be kind enough," said I, "to let me have that obligation upon which
your present stringent measures are founded. I wish to take it up."

The man looked perfectly blank.

"Mr. John Mason," said I, "has generously furnished me with the
funds necessary to save my property from sacrifice, and will take
the securities you hold."

"Blast that John Mason!" ejaculated Laxton, with excessive
bitterness, turning away and leaving where I stood. I waited for ten
minutes, but did not come back. A suspicion that he meant let the
sale go on, if possible, crossed my mind, and I returned to Mason,
who saw the sheriff and the whole matter arranged.

Laxton has never spoken to me since. As for "That John Mason," I
have proved him to be fast friend, and a man of strict honour in
every thing. So much for slander.

A NEW WAY TO COLLECT AN OLD DEBT.

EARLY in life, Mr. Jenkins had been what is called unfortunate in
business. Either from the want of right management, or from causes
that he could not well control, he became involved, and was broken
all to pieces. It was not enough that he gave up every dollar he
possessed in the world. In the hope that friends would interfere to
prevent his being sent to jail, some of his creditors pressed
eagerly for the balance of their claims, and the unhappy debtor had
no alternative but to avail himself of the statute made and provided
for the benefit of individuals in his extremity. It was a sore trial
for him; but any thing rather than to be thrown into prison.

After this tempest of trouble and excitement, there fell upon the
spirits of Mr. Jenkins a great calm. He withdrew himself from public
observation for a time, but his active mind would not let him remain
long in obscurity. In a few months, he was again in business, though
in a small way. His efforts were more cautiously directed than
before, and proved successful. He made something above his expenses
during the first year, and after that accumulated money rapidly. In
five or six years, Mr. Jenkins was worth some nine or ten thousand
dollars.

But with this prosperity came no disposition on the part of Mr.
Jenkins to pay off his old obligations. "They used the law against
me," he would say, when the subject pressed itself upon his mind, as
it would sometimes do, "and now let them get what the law will give
them."

There was a curious provision in the law by which Jenkins had been
freed from all the claims of his creditors against him; and this
provision is usually incorporated in all similar laws, though for
what reason it is hard to tell. It is only necessary to promise to
pay a claim thus annulled, to bring it in full force against the
debtor. If a man owes another a hundred dollars, and, by economy and
self-denial, succeeds in saving twenty dollars and paying them to
him, he becomes at once liable for the remaining eighty dollars,
unless the manner of doing it be very guarded, and is in danger of a
prosecution, although unable to pay another cent. A prudent man, who
has once been forced into the unhappy alternative of taking the
benefit of the insolvent law, is always careful, lest, in an
unguarded moment, he acknowledge his liability to some old creditor,
before he is fully able to meet it. Anxious as he is to assure this
one and that one of his desire and intention to pay them, if ever in
his power, and to say to them that he is struggling early and late
for their sakes as well as his own, his lips must remain sealed. A
word of his intentions, and all his fond hopes of getting fairly on
his feet again are in danger of shipwreck.

Understanding the binding force of a promise of this kind, made in
writing or in the presence of witnesses, certain of the more selfish
or less manly and honorable class of creditors are ever seeking to
extort by fair or foul means, from an unfortunate debtor, who has
honestly given up every thing, an acknowledgment of his indebtedness
to them, in order that they may reap the benefit of his first
efforts to get upon his feet again. Many and many an honest but
indiscreet debtor has been thrown upon his back once more from this
cause, and all his hopes in life blasted for ever. The means of
approach to a debtor, in this situation, are many and various. "Do
you think you will ever be able to do any thing on that old
account?" blandly asked, in the presence of a third party, is
answered by, "I hope so. But, at present, it takes every dollar I
can earn for the support of my family." This is sufficient--the
whole claim is in full force. In the course of a month or two,
perhaps in a less period, a sheriff's writ is served, and the poor
fellow's furniture, or small stock in trade, is seized, and he
broken all up again. To have replied--"You have no claim against
me," to the insidious question, seemed in the mind of the poor, but
honest man, so much like a public confession that he was a rogue,
that he could not do it. And yet this was his only right course, and
he should have taken it firmly. Letters are often written, calling
attention to the old matter, in which are well-timed allusions to
the debtor's known integrity of character, and willingness to pay
every dollar he owes in the world, if ever able. Such letters should
never be answered, for the answer will be almost sure to contain
something that, in a court of justice, will be construed into an
acknowledgment of the entire claim. In paying off old accounts that
the law has cancelled, which we think every man should do, if in his
power, the acknowledgment of indebtedness never need go further than
the amount paid at any time. Beyond this, no creditor, who does not
wish to oppress, will ask a man to go. If any seek a further revival
of the old claim, let the debtor be aware of them; and also, let him
be on his guard against him who in any way alludes, either in
writing or personally, to the previous indebtedness.

But we have digressed far enough. Mr. Jenkins, we are sorry to say,
was not of that class of debtors who never consider an obligation
morally cancelled. The law once on his side, he fully made up his
mind to keep it for ever between him and all former transactions.
Sundry were the attempts made to get old claims against him revived,
after it was clearly understood that he was getting to be worth
money; but Jenkins was a rogue at heart, and rogues are always more
wary than honest men.

Among the creditors of Jenkins, was a man named Gooding, who had
loaned him five hundred dollars, and lost three hundred of
it--two-fifths being all that was realized from the debtor's
effects. Gooding pitied sincerely the misfortunes of Jenkins, and
pocketed his loss without saying a hard word, or laying the weight
of a finger upon his already too heavily burdened shoulders. But it
so happened, that as Jenkins commenced going up in the world,
Gooding began to go down. At the time when the former was clearly
worth ten thousand dollars, he was hardly able to get money enough
to pay his quarterly rent-bills. Several times he thought of calling
the attention of his old debtor to the balance still against him,
which, as it was for borrowed money, ought certainly to be paid. But
it was an unpleasant thing to remind a friend of an old obligation,
and Gooding, for a time, chose to bear his troubles, as the least
disagreeable of the two alternatives. At last, however, difficulties
pressed so hard upon him, that he forced himself to the task.

Both he and Jenkins lived about three-quarters of a mile distant
from their places of business, in a little village beyond the
suburbs of the city. Gooding was lame, and used to ride to and from
his store in a small wagon, which was used for sending home goods
during the day. Jenkins usually walked into town in the morning, and
home in the evening. It not unfrequently happened that Gooding
overtook the latter, while riding home after business hours, when he
always invited him to take a seat by his side, which invitation was
never declined. They were, riding home in this way, one evening,
when Gooding, after clearing his throat two or three times, said,
with a slight faltering in his voice--"I am sorry, neighbour
Jenkins, to make any allusion to old matters, but as you are getting
along very comfortably, and I am rather hard pressed, don't you
think you could do something for me on account of the three hundred
dollars due for borrowed money. If it had been a regular business
debt, I would never have said a word about it, but"--

"Neighbour Gooding," said Jenkins, interrupting him, "don't give
yourself a moment's uneasiness about that matter. It shall be paid,
every dollar of it; but I am not able, just yet, to make it up for
you. But you shall have it."

This was said in the blandest way imaginable, yet in a tone of
earnestness.

"How soon do you think you can do something for me?" asked Gooding.

"I don't know. If not disappointed, however, I think I can spare you
a little in a couple of months."

"My rent is due on the first of October. If you can let me have, say
fifty dollars, then, it will be a great accommodation."

"I will see. If in my power, you shall certainly have at least that
amount."

Two months rolled round, and Gooding's quarter-day came. Nothing
more had been said by Jenkins on the subject of the fifty dollars,
and Gooding felt very reluctant about reminding him of his promise;
but he was short in making up his rent, just the promised sum. He
waited until late in the day, but Jenkins neither sent nor called.
As the matter was pressing, he determined to drop in upon his
neighbour, and remind him of what he had said. He accordingly went
round to the store of Jenkins, and found him alone with his clerk.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11