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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It is indeed! Kind words should be brought into more general use.
Those in authority should employ them more frequently, when
addressing the less fortunate among mankind. Employers should use
them in their intercourse with their workmen. Parents should utter
them on every occasion to their children. The rich should never
forget an opportunity of speaking kindly to the poor. Neighbours and
friends should emulate each other in the employment of mild, gentle,
frank, and kindly language. But this cannot be done unless each
endeavours to control himself. Our passions and our prejudices must
be kept in check. If we find that we have a neighbour on the other
side of the way, who has been more fortunate in a worldly sense than
we have been, and if we discover a little jealousy or envy creeping
into our opinions and feelings concerning said neighbour--let us be
careful, endeavour to put a rein upon our tongues, and to avoid the
indulgence of malevolence or ill-will. If we, on the other hand,
have been fortunate, have enough and to spare, and there happens to
be in our circle some who are dependent upon us, some who look up to
us with love and respect--let us be generous, courteous, and
kind--and thus we shall not only discharge a duty, but prove a
source of happiness to others.

NEIGHBOURS' QUARRELS.

MOST people think there are cares enough in the world, and yet many
are very industrious to increase them:--One of the readiest ways of
doing this is to quarrel with a neighbour. A bad bargain may vex a
man for a week, and a bad debt may trouble him for a month; but a
quarrel with his neighbours will keep him in hot water all the year
round.

Aaron Hands delights in fowls, and his cocks and hens are always
scratching up the flowerbeds of his neighbour William Wilkes, whose
mischievous tom-cat every now and then runs off with a chicken. The
consequence is, that William Wilkins is one half the day occupied in
driving away the fowls, and threatening to screw their long ugly
necks off; while Aaron Hands, in his periodical outbreaks,
invariably vows to skin his neighbour's cat, as sure as he can lay
hold of him.

Neighbours! Neighbours! Why can you not be at peace? Not all the
fowls you can rear, and the flowers you can grow, will make amends
for a life of anger, hatred, malice, and uncharitableness. Come to
some kind-hearted understanding one with another, and dwell in
peace.

Upton, the refiner, has a smoky chimney, that sets him and all the
neighbourhood by the ears. The people around abuse him without
mercy, complaining that they are poisoned, and declaring that they
will indict him at the sessions. Upton fiercely sets them at
defiance, on the ground that his premises were built before theirs,
that his chimney did not come to them, but that they came to his
chimney.

Neighbours! Neighbours! practise a little more forbearance. Had half
a dozen of you waited on the refiner in a kindly spirit, he would
years ago have so altered his chimney, that it would not have
annoyed you.

Mrs. Tibbets is thoughtless--if it were not so she would never have
had her large dusty carpet beaten, when her neighbour, who had a
wash, was having her wet clothes hung out to dry. Mrs. Williams is
hasty and passionate, or she would never have taken it for granted
that the carpet was beaten on purpose to spite her, and give her
trouble. As it is, Mrs. Tibbets and Mrs. Williams hate one another
with a perfect hatred.

Neighbours! Neighbours! bear with one another. We are none of us
angels, and should not, therefore, expect those about us to be free
from faults.

They who attempt to out-wrangle a quarrelsome neighbour, go the
wrong way to work. A kind word, and still more a kind deed, will be
more likely to be successful. Two children wanted to pass by a
savage dog: the one took a stick in his hand and pointed it at him,
but this only made the enraged creature more furious than before.
The other child adopted a different plan; for by giving the dog a
piece of his bread and butter, he was allowed to pass, the subdued
animal wagging his tail in quietude. If you happen to have a
quarrelsome neighbour, conquer him by civility and kindness; try the
bread and butter system, and keep your stick out of sight. That is
an excellent Christian admonition, "A soft answer turneth away
wrath, but grievous words stir up anger."

Neighbours' quarrels are a mutual reproach, and yet a stick or a
straw is sufficient to promote them. One man is rich, and another
poor; one is a churchman, another a dissenter; one is a
conservative, another a liberal; one hates another because he is of
the same trade, and another is bitter with his neighbour because he
is a Jew or a Roman Catholic.

Neighbours! Neighbours! live in love, and then while you make others
happy, you will be happier yourselves.

"That happy man is surely blest,
Who of the worst things makes the best;
Whilst he must be of temper curst,
Who of the best things makes the worst."

"Be ye all of one mind," says the Apostle, "having compassion one of
another; love as brethren, be pitiful, be courteous; not rendering
evil for evil, or railing for railing, but contrariwise blessing.
"To a rich man I would say, bear with and try to serve those who are
below you; and to a poor one--

"Fear God, love peace, and mind your labour;
And never, never quarrel with your neighbour."

GOOD WE MIGHT DO.

WE all might do good
Where we often do ill;
There is always the way,
If we have but the will;
Though it be but a word
Kindly breathed or supprest,
It may guard off some pain,
Or give peace to some breast.

We all might do good
In a thousand small ways--
In forbearing to flatter,
Yet yielding _due_ praise--
In spurning ill humour,
Reproving wrong done,
And treating but kindly
Each heart we have won.

We all might do good,
Whether lowly or great,
For the deed is not gauged
By the purse or estate;
If it be but a cup
Of cold water that's given,
Like "the widow's two mites,"
It is something for Heaven.

THE TOWN LOT.

ONCE upon a time it happened that the men who governed the municipal
affairs of a certain growing town in the West, resolved, in grave
deliberation assembled, to purchase a five-acre lot at the north end
of the city--recently incorporated--and have it improved for a park
or public square. Now, it also happened, that all the saleable
ground lying north of the city was owned by a man named Smith--a
shrewd, wide-awake individual, whose motto was "Every man for
himself," with an occasional addition about a certain gentleman in
black taking "the hindmost."

Smith, it may be mentioned, was secretly at the bottom of this
scheme for a public square, and had himself suggested the matter to
an influential member of the council; not that he was moved by what
is denominated public spirit--no; the spring of action in the case
was merely "private spirit," or a regard for his own good. If the
council decided upon a public square, he was the man from whom the
ground would have to be bought; and he was the man who could get his
own price therefor.

As we have said, the park was decided upon, and a committee of two
appointed whose business it was to see Smith, and arrange with him
for the purchase of a suitable lot of ground. In due form the
committee called upon the landholder, who was fully prepared for the
interview.

"You are the owner of those lots at the north end?" said the
spokesman of the committee.

"I am," replied Smith, with becoming gravity.

"Will you sell a portion of ground, say five acres, to the city?"

"For what purpose?" Smith knew very well for what purpose the land
was wanted.

"We have decided to set apart about five acres of ground, and
improve it as a kind of park, or public promenade."

"Have you, indeed? Well, I like that," said Smith, with animation.
"It shows the right kind of public spirit."

"We have, moreover, decided that the best location will be at the
north end of the town."

"Decidedly my own opinion," returned Smith.

"Will you sell us the required acres?" asked one of the councilmen.

"That will depend somewhat upon where you wish to locate the park."

The particular location was named.

"The very spot," replied Smith, promptly, "upon which I have decided
to erect four rows of dwellings."

"But it is too far out for that," was naturally objected.

"O, no; not a rod. The city is rapidly growing in that direction. I
have only to put up the dwellings referred to, and dozens will, be
anxious to purchase lots, and build all around them. Won't the
ground to the left of that you speak of answer as well?"

But the committee replied in the negative. The lot they had
mentioned was the one decided upon as most suited for the purpose,
and they were not prepared to think of any other location.

All this Smith understood very well. He was not only willing, but
anxious for the city to purchase the lot they were negotiating for.
All he wanted was to get a good round price for the same--say four
or five times the real value. So he feigned indifference, and threw
difficulties in the way.

A few years previous to this time, Smith had purchased a
considerable tract of land at the north of the then flourishing
village, at fifty dollars an acre. Its present value was about three
hundred dollars an acre. After a good deal of talk on both sides,
Smith finally agreed to sell the particular lot pitched upon. The
next thing was to arrange as to price.

"At what do you hold this ground per acre?"

It was some time before Smith answered this question. His eyes were
cast upon the floor, and earnestly did he enter into debate with
himself as to the value he should place upon the lot. At first he
thought of five hundred dollars per acre. But his cupidity soon
caused him to advance on that sum, although, a month before, he
would have caught at such an offer. Then he advanced to six, to
seven, and to eight hundred. And still he felt undecided.

"I can get my own price," said he to himself. "The city has to pay,
and I might just as well get a large sum as a small one."

"For what price will you sell?" The question was repeated.

"I must have a good price."

"We are willing to pay what is fair and right."

"Of course. No doubt you have fixed a limit to which you will go."

"Not exactly that," said one of the gentlemen.

"Are you prepared to make an offer?"

"We are prepared to hear your price, and to make a report thereon,"
was replied.

"That's a very valuable lot of ground," said Smith.

"Name your price," returned one of the committeemen, a little
impatiently.

Thus brought up to the point, Smith, after thinking hurriedly for a
few moments, said--

"One thousand dollars an acre."

Both the men shook their heads in a very positive way. Smith said
that it was the lowest he would take; and so the conference ended.

At the next meeting of the city councils, a report on the town lot
was made, and the extraordinary demand of Smith canvassed. It was
unanimously decided not to make the proposed purchase.

When this decision reached the landholder, he was considerably
disappointed. He wanted money badly, and would have "jumped at" two
thousand dollars for the five acre lot, if satisfied that it would
bring no more. But when the city came forward as a purchaser, his
cupidity was subjected to a very strong temptation. He believed that
he could get five thousand dollars as easily as two; and quieted his
conscience by the salvo--"An article is always worth what it will
bring."

A week or two went by, and Smith was about calling upon one of the
members of the council, to say that, if the city really wanted the
lot he would sell at their price, leaving it with the council to act
justly and generously, when a friend said to him,

"I hear that the council had the subject of a public square under
consideration again this morning."

"Indeed!" Smith was visibly excited, though he tried to appear calm.

"Yes; and I also hear that they have decided to pay the extravagant
price you asked for a lot of ground at the north end of the city."

"A thousand dollars an acre?"

"Yes."

"Its real value, and not cent more," said Smith.

"People differ about that. How ever, you are lucky," the friend
replied. "The city is able to pay."

"So I think. And I mean they shall pay."

Before the committee, to whom the matter was given in charge, had
time to call upon Smith, and close with him for the lot, that
gentleman had concluded in his own mind that it would be just as
easy to get twelve hundred dollars an acre as a thousand. It was
plain that the council were bent upon having the ground, and would
pay a round sum for it. It was just the spot for a public square;
and the city must become the owner. So, when he was called upon, by
the gentlemen, and they said to him,

"We are authorized to pay you your price," he promptly answered,
"The offer is no longer open. You declined it when it was made. My
price for that property is now twelve hundred dollars an acre."

The men offered remonstrance; but it was of no avail. Smith believed
that he could get six thousand dollars for the ground as easily as
five thousand. The city must have the lot, and would pay almost any
price.

"I hardly think it right, Mr. Smith," said one of his visiters, "for
you to take such an advantage. This square is for the public good."

"Let the public pay, then," was the unhesitating answer. "The public
is able enough."

"The location of this park, at the north end of the city, will
greatly improve the value of your other property."

This Smith understood very well. But he replied,

"I am not so sure of that. I have some very strong doubts on the
subject. It's my opinion, that the buildings I contemplated erecting
will be far more to my advantage. Be that as it may, however, I am
decided in selling for nothing less than six thousand dollars."

"We are only authorized to pay five thousand," replied the
committee. "If you agree to take that sum, will close the bargain on
the spot."

Five thousand dollars was a large sum of money, and Smith felt
strongly tempted to close in with the liberal offer. But six
thousand loomed up before his imagination still more temptingly.

"I can get it," said he to himself; "and the property is worth what
it will bring."

So he positively declined to sell it at a thousand dollars per acre.

"At twelve hundred you will sell?" remarked one of the committee, as
they were about retiring.

"Yes. I will take twelve hundred the acre. That is the lowest rate,
and I am not anxious even at that price. I can do quite as well by
keeping it in my own possession. But, as you seem so bent on having
it, I will not stand in your way. When will the council meet again?"

"Not until next week."

"Very well. If they then accept my offer, all will be right. But,
understand me; if they do not accept, the offer no longer remains
open. It is a matter of no moment to me which way the thing goes."

It was a matter of moment to Smith, for all this assertion--a matter
of very great moment. He had several thousand dollars to pay in the
course of the next few months on land purchases, and no way to meet
the payments, except by mortgages, or sales of property; and, it may
naturally be concluded, that he suffered considerable uneasiness
during the time which passed until the next meeting of the council.

Of course, the grasping disposition shown by Smith, became the town
talk; and people said a good many hard things of him. Little,
however, did he care, so that he secured six thousand dollars for a
lot not worth more than two thousand.

Among other residents and property holders in the town, was a
simple-minded, true-hearted, honest man, named Jones. His father had
left him a large farm, a goodly portion of which, in process of
time, came to be included in the limits of the new city; and he
found a much more profitable employment in selling building lots
than in tilling the soil. The property of Mr. Jones lay at the west
side of the town.

Now, when Mr. Jones heard of the exorbitant demand made by Smith for
a five acre lot, his honest heart throbbed with a feeling of
indignation.

"I couldn't have believed it of him," said he. "Six thousand
dollars! Preposterous! Why, I would give the city a lot of twice the
size, and do it with pleasure."

"You would?" said a member of the council, who happened to hear this
remark.

"Certainly I would."

"You are really in earnest?"

"Undoubtedly. Go and select a public square from any of my
unappropriated land on the west side of the city, and I will pass
you the title as a free gift to-morrow, and feel pleasure in doing
so."

"That is public spirit," said the councilman.

"Call it what you will. I am pleased in making the offer."

Now, let it not be supposed that Mr. Jones was shrewdly calculating
the advantage which would result to him from having a park at the
west side of the city. No such thought had yet entered his mind. He
spoke from the impulse of a generous feeling.

Time passed on, and the session day of the council came round--a day
to which Smith had looked forward with no ordinary feelings of
interest, that were touched at times by the coldness of doubt, and
the agitation of uncertainty. Several times he had more than half
repented of his refusal to accept the liberal offer of five thousand
dollars, and of having fixed so positively upon six thousand as the
"lowest figure."

The morning of the day passed, and Smith began to grow uneasy. He
did not venture to seek for information as to the doings of the
council, for that would be to expose the anxiety he felt in the
result of their deliberations. Slowly the afternoon wore away, and
it so happened that Smith did not meet any one of the councilmen;
nor did he even know whether the council was still in session or
not. As to making allusion to the subject of his anxious interest to
any one, that was carefully avoided; for he knew that his exorbitant
demand was the town talk--and he wished to affect the most perfect
indifference on the subject.

The day closed, and not a whisper about the town lot had come to the
ears of Mr. Smith. What could it mean? Had his offer to sell at six
thousand been rejected? The very thought caused his heart to grow
heavy in his bosom. Six, seven, eight o'clock came, and still it was
all dark with Mr. Smith. He could bear the suspense no longer, and
so determined to call upon his neighbour Wilson, who was a member of
the council, and learn from him what had been done.

So he called on Mr. Wilson.

"Ah, friend Smith," said the latter; "how are you this evening?"

"Well, I thank you," returned Smith, feeling a certain oppression of
the chest. "How are you?"

"Oh, very well."

Here there was a pause. After which Smith said, "About that ground
of mine. What did you do?"

"Nothing," replied Wilson, coldly.

"Nothing, did you say?" Smith's voice was a little husky.

"No. You declined our offer; or, rather, the high price fixed by
yourself upon the land."

"You refused to buy it at five thousand, when it was offered," said
Smith.

"I know we did, because your demand was exorbitant."

"Oh, no, not at all," returned Smith quickly.

"In that we only differ," said Wilson. "However, the council has
decided not to pay you the price you ask."

"Unanimously?"

"There was not a dissenting voice."

Smith began to feel more and more uncomfortable.

"I might take something less," he ventured to say, in a low,
hesitating voice.

"It is too late now," was Mr. Wilson's prompt reply.

"Too late! How so?"

"We have procured a lot."

"Mr. Wilson!" Poor Smith started to his feet in chagrin and
astonishment.

"Yes; we have taken one of Jones's lots on the west side of the
city. A beautiful ten acre lot."

"You have!" Smith was actually pale.

"We have; and the title deeds are now being made out."

It was some time before Smith had sufficiently recovered from the
stunning effect of this unlooked-for intelligence, to make the
inquiry,

"And pray how much did Jones ask for his ten acre lot."

"He presented it to the city as a gift," replied the councilman.

"A gift! What folly!"

"No, not folly--but true worldly wisdom; though I believe Jones did
not think of advantage to himself when he generously made the offer.
He is worth twenty thousand dollars more to-day than he was
yesterday, in the simple advanced value of his land for building
lots. And I know of no man in this town whose good fortune affects
me with more pleasure."

Smith stole back to his home with a mountain of disappointment on
his heart. In his cupidity he had entirely overreached himself, and
he saw that the consequences were to react upon all his future
prosperity. The public square at the west end of the town would draw
improvements in that direction, all the while increasing the wealth
of Mr. Jones, while lots at the north end would remain at present
prices, or, it might be, take a downward range.

And so it proved. In ten years, Jones was the richest man in the
town, while half of Smith's property had been sold for taxes. The
five acre lot passed from his hands, under the hammer, in the
foreclosure of a mortgage, for one thousand dollars!

Thus it is that inordinate selfishness and cupidity overreach
themselves; while the liberal man deviseth liberal things, and is
sustained thereby.

THE SUNBEAM AND THE RAINDROP.

A SUNBEAM and a raindrop met together in the sky
One afternoon in sunny June, when earth was parched and dry;
Each quarrelled for the precedence ('twas so the story ran),
And the golden sunbeam, warmly, the quarrel thus began:--

"What were the earth without me? I come with beauty bright,
She smiles to hail my presence, and rejoices in my light;
I deck the hill and valley with many a lovely hue,
I give the rose its blushes, and the violet its blue.

"I steal within the window, and through the cottage door,
And my presence like a blessing gilds with smiles the broad earth o'er;
The brooks and streams flow dancing and sparkling in my ray,
And the merry, happy children in the golden sunshine play."

Then the tearful raindrop answered--"Give praise where praise is due,
The earth indeed were lonely without a smile from you;
But without my visits, also, its beauty would decay,
The flowers droop and wither, and the streamlets dry away.

"I give the flowers their freshness, and you their colours gay,
My jewels would not sparkle, without your sunny ray.
Since each upon the other so closely must depend,
Let us seek the earth together, and our common blessings blend."

The raindrops, and the sunbeams, came laughing down to earth,
And it woke once more to beauty, and to myriad tones of mirth;
The river and the streamlet went dancing on their way,
And the raindrops brightly sparkled in the sunbeam's golden ray.

The drooping flowers looked brighter, there was fragrance in the air,
The earth seemed new created, there was gladness everywhere;
And above the dark clouds, gleaming on the clear blue arch of Heaven,
The Rainbow, in its beauty, like a smile of love was given.

'Twas a sweet and simple lesson, which the story told, I thought,
Not alone and single-handed our kindliest deeds are wrought;
Like the sunbeam and the raindrop, work together, while we may,
And the bow of Heaven's own promise shall smile upon our way.

A PLEA FOR SOFT WORDS.

STRANGE and subtle are the influences which affect the spirit and
touch the heart. Are there bodiless creatures around us, moulding
our thoughts into darkness or brightness, as they will? Whence,
otherwise, come the shadow and the sunshine, for which we can
discern no mortal agency?

Oftener, As we grow older, come the shadows; less frequently the,
sunshine. Ere I took up my pen, I was sitting with a pleasant
company of friends, listening to music, and speaking, with the rest,
light words.

Suddenly, I knew not why, my heart was wrapt away in an atmosphere
of sorrow. A sense of weakness and unworthiness weighed me down, and
I felt the moisture gather to my eyes and my lips tremble, though
they kept the smile.

All my past life rose up before me, and all my short-comings--all,
my mistakes, and all my wilful wickedness, seemed pleading
trumpet-tongued against me.

I saw her before me whose feet trod with mine the green holts and
meadows, when the childish thought strayed not beyond the near or
the possible. I saw her through the long blue distances, clothed in
the white beauty of an angel; but, alas! she drew her golden hair
across her face to veil from her vision the sin-darkened creature
whose eyes dropped heavily to the hem of her robe!

O pure and beautiful one, taken to peace ere the weak temptation had
lifted itself up beyond thy stature, and compelled thee to listen,
to oppose thy weakness to its strength, and to fall--sometimes, at
least, let thy face shine on me from between the clouds. Fresh from
the springs of Paradise, shake from thy wings the dew against my
forehead. We two were coming up together through the sweet land of
poesy and dreams, where the senses believe what the heart hopes; our
hands were full of green boughs, and our laps of cowslips and
violets, white and purple. We were talking of that more beautiful
world into which childhood was opening out, when that spectre met
us, feared and dreaded alike by the strong man and the little child,
and one was taken, and the other left.

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