Friends and Neighbors, or Two Ways of Living in the World

T >> T. S. Arthur >> Friends and Neighbors, or Two Ways of Living in the World

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"Oh, for shame, Uncle Joshua! I shall not allow you to talk to Henry
in this manner," exclaimed Mrs. Clarke perceiving that her husband
looked somewhat irritated. "Come, prove your charge against me. In
what way do I pick my neighbour's pockets?"

"You took six shillings from the washerwoman this morning," coolly
replied Uncle Joshua.

"_Took_ six shillings from the washerwoman! Paid her six shillings,
you mean, uncle. She called for the money due for a day's work, and
I gave it to her."

"Yes, but not till you had kept her waiting nearly two hours. I
heard her say, as she left the house, 'I have lost a day's work by
this delay, for I cannot go to Mrs. Reed's at this hour; so I shall
be six shillings poorer at the end of the week.'"

"Why did she wait, then? She could have called again. I was not
ready to attend to her at so early an hour."

"Probably she needed the money to-day. You little know the value of
six shillings to the mother of a poor family, Mary; but, you should
remember that her time is valuable, and that it is as sinful to
deprive her of the use of it, as if you took money from her purse."

"Well, uncle, I will acknowledge that I did wrong to keep the poor
woman waiting, and I will endeavour to be more considerate in
future. So draw your chair to the table, and take a cup of tea and
some of your favourite cakes."

"Thank you, Mary; but I am engaged to take tea with your old friend,
Mrs. Morrison. Poor thing! she has not made out very well lately.
Her school has quite run down, owing to sickness among her scholars;
and her own family have been ill all winter; so that her expenses
have been great."

"I am sorry to hear this," replied Mrs. Clarke. "I had hoped that
her school was succeeding. Give my love to her, uncle, and tell her
I will call upon her in a day or two."

Uncle Joshua promised to remember the message, and bidding Mr. and
Mrs. Clarke good evening, he was soon seated in Mrs. Morrison's neat
little parlour, which, though it bore no comparison with the
spacious and beautifully furnished apartments he had just left, had
an air of comfort and convenience which could not fail to please.

Delighted to see her old friend, whom she also, from early habit,
addressed by the title of Uncle Joshua, although he was no relation,
Mrs. Morrison's countenance, for awhile beamed with that cheerful,
animated expression which it used to wear in her more youthful days;
but an expression of care and anxiety soon over shadowed it, and, in
the midst of her kind attentions to her visiter, and her
affectionate endearment to two sweet children, who were playing
around the room, she would often remain thoughtful and abstracted
for several minutes.

Uncle Joshua was an attentive observer, and he saw that something
weighed heavily upon her mind. When tea was over, and the little
ones had gone to rest, he said, kindly,

"Come, Fanny, draw your chair close to my side, and tell me all your
troubles, as freely as you used to do when a merry-hearted
school-girl. How often have listened to the sad tale of the pet
pigeon, that had flown away, or the favourite plant killed by the
untimely frost. Come, I am ready, now as then, to assist you with my
advice, and my purse, too, if necessary."

Tears started to Mrs. Morrison's eyes, as she replied.

"You were always a kind friend to me, Uncle Joshua, and I will
gladly confide my troubles to you. You know that after my husband's
death I took this house, which, though small, may seem far above my
limited income, in the hope of obtaining a school sufficiently large
to enable me to meet the rent, and also to support myself and
children. The small sum left them by their father I determined to
invest for their future use. I unwisely intrusted it to one who
betrayed the trust, and appropriated the money to some wild
speculation of his own. He says that he did this in the hope of
increasing my little property. It may be so, but my consent should
have been asked. He failed and there is little hope of our ever
recovering more, than a small part of what he owes us. But, to
return to my school. I found little difficulty in obtaining
scholars, and, for a short time, believed myself to be doing well,
but I soon found that a large number of scholars did not insure a
large income from the school. My terms were moderate, but still I
found great difficulty in obtaining what was due to me at the end of
the term.

"A few paid promptly, and without expecting me to make unreasonable
deductions for unpleasant weather, slight illness, &c., &c. Others
paid after long delay, which often put me to the greatest
inconvenience; and some, after appointing day after day for me to
call, and promising each time that the bill should be settled
without fail, moved away, I knew not whither, or met me at length
with a cool assurance that it was not possible for them to pay me at
present--if it was ever in their power they would let me know."

"Downright robbery!" exclaimed Uncle Joshua. "A set of pickpockets!
I wish they were all shipped for Blackwell's Island."

"There are many reasons assigned for not paying," continued Mrs.
Morrison. "Sometimes the children had not learned as much as the
parents expected. Some found it expedient to take their children
away long before the expiration of the term, and then gazed at me in
astonishment when I declared my right to demand pay for the whole
time for which they engaged. One lady, in particular, to whose
daughter I was giving music lessons, withdrew the pupil under
pretext of slight indisposition, and sent me the amount due for a
half term. I called upon her, and stated that I considered the
engagement binding for twenty-four lessons, but would willingly wait
until the young lady was quite recovered. The mother appeared to
assent with willingness to this arrangement, and took the proffered
money without comment. An hour or two after I received a laconic
epistle stating that the lady had already engaged another teacher,
whom she thought preferable--that she had offered me the amount due
for half of the term, and I had declined receiving it--therefore she
should not offer it again. I wrote a polite, but very plain, reply
to this note, and enclosed my bill for the whole term, but have
never heard from her since."

"Do you mean to say that she actually received the money which you
returned to her without reluctance, and gave you no notice of her
intention to employ another teacher?" demanded the old gentleman.

"Certainly; and, besides this, I afterwards ascertained that the
young lady was actually receiving a lesson from another teacher,
when I called at the house--therefore the plea of indisposition was
entirely false. The most perfect satisfaction had always been
expressed as to the progress of the pupil, and no cause was assigned
for the change."

"I hope you have met with few cases as bad as this," remarked Uncle
Joshua. "The world must be in a worse state than even I had
supposed, if such imposition is common."

"This may be an extreme case," replied Mrs. Morrison, "but I could
relate many others which are little better. However, you will soon
weary of my experience in this way, Uncle Joshua, and I will
therefore mention but one other instance. One bitter cold day in
January, I called at the house of a lady who had owed me a small
amount for nearly a year, and after repeated delay had reluctantly
fixed this day as the time when she would pay me at least a part of
what was due. I was told by the servant who opened the door that the
lady was not at home.

"What time will she be in?" I inquired.

"Not for some hours," was the reply.

Leaving word that I would call again towards evening, I retraced my
steps, feeling much disappointed at my ill success, as I had felt
quite sure of obtaining the money. About five o'clock I again
presented myself at the door, and was again informed that the lady
was not at home.

"I will walk in, and wait for her return," I replied.

The servant appeared somewhat startled at this, but after a little
delay ushered me into the parlour. Two little boys, of four and six
years of age, were playing about the room. I joined in their sports,
and soon became quite familiar with them. Half an hour had passed
away, when I inquired of the oldest boy what time he expected his
mother?

"Not till late," he answered, hesitatingly.

"Did she take the baby with her this cold day?" I asked.

"Yes, ma'am," promptly replied the girl, who, under pretence of
attending to the children, frequently came into the room.

The youngest child gazed earnestly in my face, and said, smilingly,

"Mother has not gone away, she is up stairs. She ran away with baby
when she saw you coming, and told us to say she had gone out. I am
afraid brother will take cold, for there is no fire up stairs."

"It is no such thing," exclaimed the girl and the eldest boy. "She
is not up stairs, ma'am, or she would see you."

But even as they spoke the loud cries of an infant were heard, and a
voice at the head of the stairs calling Jenny.

The girl obeyed, and presently returned with the child in her arms,
its face, neck, and hands purple with cold.

"Poor little thing, it has got its death in that cold room," she
said. "Mistress cannot see you, ma'am, she is sick and gone to bed."

"This last story was probably equally false with the other, but I
felt that it was useless to remain, and with feelings of deep regret
for the poor children who were so early taught an entire disregard
for truth, and of sorrow for the exposure to cold to which I had
innocently subjected the infant, I left the house. A few days after,
I heard that the little one had died with croup. Jenny, whom I
accidentally met in the street, assured me that he took the cold
which caused his death from the exposure on the afternoon of my
call, as he became ill the following day. I improved the opportunity
to endeavour to impress upon the mind of the poor girl the sin of
which she had been guilty, in telling a falsehood even in obedience
to the commands of her mistress; and I hope that what I said may be
useful to her.

"The want of honesty and promptness in the parents of my pupils
often caused me great inconvenience, and I frequently found it
difficult to meet my rent when it became due. Still I have struggled
through my difficulties without contracting any debts until this
winter, but the sickness which has prevailed in my school has so
materially lessened my income, and my family expenses have, for the
same reason, been so much greater, that I fear it will be quite
impossible for me to continue in my present situation."

"Do not be discouraged," said Uncle Joshua; "I will advance whatever
sum you are in immediate need of, and you may repay me when it is
convenient to yourself. I will also take the bills which are due to
you from various persons, and endeavour to collect them. Your
present term is, I suppose, nearly ended. Commence another with this
regulation:--That the price of tuition, or at least one-half of it,
shall be paid before the entrance of the scholar. Some will complain
of this rule, but many will not hesitate to comply with it, and you
will find the result beneficial. And now I would leave you, Fanny,
for I have another call to make this evening. My young friend,
William Churchill, is, I hear, quite ill, and I feel desirous to see
him. I will call upon you in a day or two, and then we will have
another talk about your affairs, and see what can be done for you.
So good night, Fanny; go to sleep and dream of your old friend."

Closing the door after Uncle Joshua, Mrs. Morrison returned to her
room with a heart filled with thankfulness that so kind a friend had
been sent to her in the hour of need; while the old gentleman walked
with rapid steps through several streets until he stood at the door
of a small, but pleasantly situated house in the suburbs of the
city. His ring at the bell was answered by a pretty,
pleasant-looking young woman, whom he addressed as Mrs. Churchill,
and kindly inquired for her husband.

"William is very feeble to-day, but he will be rejoiced to see you,
sir. His disease is partly owing to anxiety of mind, I think, and
when his spirits are raised by a friendly visit, he feels better."

Uncle Joshua followed Mrs. Churchill to the small room which now
served the double purpose of parlour and bedroom. They were met at
the door by the invalid, who had recognised the voice of his old
friend, and had made an effort to rise and greet him. His sunken
countenance, the hectic flush which glowed upon his cheek, and the
distressing cough, gave fearful evidence that unless the disease was
soon arrested in its progress, consumption would mark him for its
victim.

The friendly visiter was inwardly shocked at his appearance, but
wisely made no allusion to it, and soon engaged him in cheerful
conversation. Gradually he led him to speak openly of his own
situation,--of his health, and of the pecuniary difficulties with
which he was struggling. His story was a common one. A young family
were growing up around him, and an aged mother and invalid sister
also depended upon him for support. The small salary which he
obtained as clerk in one of the most extensive mercantile
establishments in the city, was quite insufficient to meet his
necessary expenses. He had, therefore, after being constantly
employed from early morning until a late hour in the evening,
devoted two or three hours of the night to various occupations which
added a trifle to his limited income. Sometimes he procured copying
of various kinds; at others, accounts, which he could take to his
own house, were intrusted to him. This incessant application had
gradually ruined his health, and now for several weeks he had been
unable to leave the house.

"Have you had advice from an experienced physician, William?"
inquired Uncle Joshua. The young man blushed, as he replied, that he
was unwilling to send for a physician, knowing that he had no means
to repay his services.

"I will send my own doctor to see you," returned his friend. "He can
help you if any one can, and as for his fee I will attend to it, and
if you regain your health I shall be amply repaid.--No, do not thank
me," he continued, as Mr. Churchill endeavoured to express his
gratitude. "Your father has done me many a favour, and it would be
strange if I could not extend a hand to help his son when in
trouble. And now tell me, William, is not your salary very small,
considering the responsible situation which you have so long held in
the firm of Stevenson & Co.?"

"It is," was the reply; "but I see no prospect of obtaining more. I
believe I have always given perfect satisfaction to my employer,
although it is difficult to ascertain the estimation in which he
holds me, for he is a man who never praises. He has never found
fault with me, and therefore I suppose him satisfied, and indeed I
have some proof of this in his willingness to wait two or three
months in the hope that I may recover from my present illness before
making a permanent engagement with a new clerk. Notwithstanding
this, he has never raised my salary, and when I ventured to say to
him about a year ago, that as his business had nearly doubled since
I had been with him, I felt that it would be but just that I should
derive some benefit from the change, he coolly replied that my
present salary was all that he had ever paid a clerk, and he
considered it a sufficient equivalent for my services. He knows very
well that it is difficult to obtain a good situation, there are so
many who stand ready to fill any vacancy, and therefore he feels
quite safe in refusing to give me, more."

"And yet," replied Uncle Joshua, "he is fully aware that the
advantage resulting from your long experience and thorough
acquaintance with his business, increases his income several hundred
dollars every year, and this money he quietly puts into his own
pocket, without considering or caring that a fair proportion of it
should in common honesty go into yours. What a queer world we live
in! The poor thief who robs you of your watch or pocket-book, is
punished without delay; but these wealthy defrauders maintain their
respectability and pass for honest men, even while withholding what
they know to be the just due of another.

"But cheer up, William, I have a fine plan for you, if you can but
regain your health. I am looking for a suitable person to take
charge of a large sheep farm, which I propose establishing on the
land which I own in Virginia. You acquired some knowledge of farming
in your early days. How would you like to undertake this business?
The climate is delightful, the employment easy and pleasant; and it
shall be my care that your salary is amply sufficient for the
support of your family."

Mr. Churchill could hardly command his voice sufficiently to express
his thanks, and his wife burst into tears, as she exclaimed,

"If my poor husband had confided his troubles to you before, he
would not have been reduced to this feeble state."

"He will recover," said the old gentleman. "I feel sure, that in one
month, he will look like a different man. Rest yourself, now,
William, and to-morrow I will see you again."

And, followed by the blessings and thanks of the young couple, Uncle
Joshua departed.

"Past ten o'clock," he said to himself, as he paused near a
lamp-post and looked at his watch. "I must go to my own room."

As he said this he was startled by a deep sigh from some one near,
and on looking round, saw a lad, of fourteen or fifteen years of
age, leaning against the post, and looking earnestly at him.

Uncle Joshua recognised the son of a poor widow, whom he had
occasionally befriended, and said, kindly,

"Well, John, are you on your way home from the store? This is rather
a late hour for a boy like you."

"Yes, sir, it is late. I cannot bear to return home to my poor
mother, for I have bad news for her to-night. Mr. Mackenzie does not
wish to employ me any more. My year is up to-day."

"Why, John, how is this? Not long ago your employer told me that he
was perfectly satisfied with you; indeed, he said that he never
before had so trusty and useful a boy."

"He has always appeared satisfied with me, sir, and I have
endeavoured to serve him faithfully. But he told me to-day that he
had engaged another boy."

Uncle Joshua mused for a moment, and then asked,

"What was he to give you for the first year, John?"

"Nothing, sir. He told my mother that my services would be worth
nothing the first year, but the second he would pay me fifty
dollars, and so increase my salary as I grew older. My poor mother
has worked very hard to support me this year, and I had hoped that I
would be able to help her soon. But it is all over now, and I
suppose I must take a boy's place again, and work another year for
nothing."

"And then be turned off again. Another set of pickpockets," muttered
his indignant auditor.

"Pickpockets!" exclaimed the lad. "Did any one take your watch just
now, sir? I saw a man look at it as you took it out. Perhaps we can
overtake him. I think he turned into the next street."

"No, no, my boy. My watch is safe enough. I am not thinking of
street pickpockets, but of another class whom you will find out as
you grow older. But never mind losing your place, John. My nephew is
in want of a boy who has had some experience in your business, and
will pay him a fair salary--more than Mr. Mackenzie agreed to give
you for the second year. I will mention you to him, and you may call
at his store to-morrow at eleven o'clock, and we will see if you
will answer his purpose."

"Thank you, Sir, I am sure I thank you; and mother will bless you
for your kindness," replied the boy, his countenance glowing with
animation; and with a grateful "good night," he darted off in the
direction of his own home.

"There goes a grateful heart," thought Uncle Joshua, as he gazed
after the boy until he turned the corner of the street and
disappeared. "He has lost his situation merely because another can
be found who will do the work for nothing for a year, in the vain
hope of future recompense. I wish Mary could have been with me this
evening; I think she would have acknowledged that there are many
respectable pickpockets who deserve to accompany poor Thomas to
Blackwell's Island;" and thus soliloquizing, Uncle Joshua reached
the door of his boarding-house, and sought repose in his own room.

KIND WORDS.

WE have more than once, in our rapidly written reflections, urged
the policy and propriety of kindness, courtesy, and good-will
between man and man. It is so easy for an individual to manifest
amenity of spirit, to avoid harshness, and thus to cheer and gladden
the paths of all over whom he may have influence or control, that it
is really surprising to find any one pursuing the very opposite
course. Strange as it may appear, there are among the children of
men, hundreds who seem to take delight in making others unhappy.
They rejoice at an opportunity of being the messengers of evil
tidings. They are jealous or malignant; and in either case they
exult in inflicting a wound. The ancients, in most nations, had a
peculiar dislike to croakers, prophets of evil, and the bearers of
evil tidings. It is recorded that the messenger from the banks of
the Tigris, who first announced the defeat of the Roman army by the
Persians, and the death of the Emperor Julian, in a Roman city of
Asia Minor, was instantly buried under a heap of stones thrown upon
him by an indignant populace. And yet this messenger was innocent,
and reluctantly discharged a painful duty. But how different the
spirit and the motive of volunteers in such cases--those who exult
in an opportunity of communicating bad news, and in some degree
revel over the very agony which it produces. The sensitive, the
generous, the honourable, would ever be spared from such painful
missions. A case of more recent occurrence may be referred to as in
point. We allude to the murder of Mr. Roberts, a farmer of New
Jersey, who was robbed and shot in his own wagon, near Camden. It
became necessary that the sad intelligence should be broken to his
wife and family with as much delicacy as possible. A neighbour was
selected for the task, and at first consented. But, on
consideration, his heart failed him. He could not, he said,
communicate the details of a tragedy so appalling and he begged to
be excused. Another, formed it was thought of sterner stuff, was
then fixed upon: but he too, rough and bluff as he was in his
ordinary manners, possessed the heart of a generous and sympathetic
human being, and also respectfully declined. A third made a like
objection, and at last a female friend of the family was with much
difficulty persuaded, in company with another, to undertake the
mournful task. And yet, we repeat, there are in society, individuals
who delight in contributing to the misery of others--who are eager
to circulate a slander, to chronicle a ruin, to revive a forgotten
error, to wound, sting, and annoy, whenever they may do so with
impunity. How much better the gentle, the generous, the magnanimous
policy! Why not do everything that may be done for the happiness of
our fellow creatures, without seeking out their weak points,
irritating their half-healed wounds, jarring their sensibilities, or
embittering their thoughts! The magic of kind words and a kind
manner can scarcely be over-estimated. Our fellow creatures are more
sensitive than is generally imagined. We have known cases in which a
gentle courtesy has been remembered with pleasure for years. Who
indeed cannot look back into "bygone time," and discover some smile,
some look or other demonstration of regard or esteem, calculated to
bless and brighten every hour of after existence! "Kind words," says
an eminent writer, "do not cost much. It does not take long to utter
them. They never blister the tongue or lips on their passage into
the world, or occasion any other kind of bodily suffering; and we
have never heard of any mental trouble arising from this quarter.
Though they do not cost much, yet they accomplish much. 1. They help
one's own good nature and good will. One cannot be in a habit of
this kind, without thereby pecking away something of the granite
roughness of his own nature. Soft words will soften his own soul.
Philosophers tell us that the angry words a man uses in his passion
are fuel to the flame of his wrath, and make it blaze the more
fiercely. Why, then, should not words of the opposite character
produce opposite results, and that most blessed of all passions of
the soul, kindness, be augmented by kind words? People that are for
ever speaking kindly, are for ever disinclining themselves to
ill-temper. 2. Kind words make other people good-natured. Cold words
freeze people, and hot words scorch them, and sarcastic words
irritate them, and bitter words make them bitter, and wrathful words
make them wrathful. And kind words also produce their own image on
men's souls; and a beautiful image it is. They soothe, and quiet,
and comfort the hearer. They shame him out of his sour, morose,
unkind feelings; and he has to become kind himself. There is such a
rush of all other kinds of words in our days, that it seems
desirable to give kind words a chance among them. There are vain
words, idle words, hasty words, spiteful words, silly words, and
empty words. Now kind words are better than the whole of them; and
it is a pity that, among the improvements of the present age, birds
of this feather might not have more of a chance than they have had
to spread their wings."

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