WHAT FIVE DOLLARS PAID
Mr. Herriot was sitting in his office, one day, when a lad entered, and handed him a small slip of paper. It was a bill for five dollars, due to his shoemaker, a poor man who lived in the next square.
"Tell Mr. Grant that I will settle this soon. It isn't just convenient to-day."
The boy retired.
Now, Mr. Herriot had a five-dollar bill in his pocket; but, he felt as if he couldn't part with it. He didn't like to be entirely out of money. So, acting from this impulse, he had sent the boy away. Very still sat Mr. Herriot for the next five minutes; yet his thoughts were busy. He was not altogether satisfied with himself. The shoemaker was a poor man, and needed his money as soon as earned—he was not unadvised of this fact.
"I wish I had sent him the five dollars," said Mr. Herriot, at length, half-audibly. "He wants it worse than I do."
He mused still further.
"The fact is," he at length exclaimed, starting up, "it is Grant's money, and not mine; and what is more, he shall have it."
So saying, Herriot took up his hat and left his office.
"Did you get the money, Charles," said Grant, as his boy entered the shop. There was a good deal of earnestness in the shoemaker's tones.
"No, sir," replied the lad.
"Didn't get the money!"
"No, sir."
"Wasn't Mr. Herriot in?"
"Yes, sir; but he said it wasn't convenient to-day."
"Oh, dear! I'm sorry!" came from the shoemaker, in a depressed voice.
A woman was sitting in Grant's shop when the boy came in; she had now risen, and was leaning on the counter; a look of disappointment was in her face.
"It can't be helped, Mrs. Lee," said Grant. "I was sure of getting the money from him. He never disappointed me before. Call in to-morrow, and I will try and have it for you."
The woman looked troubled as well as disappointed. Slowly she turned away and left the shop. A few minutes after her departure, Herriot came in, and, after some words of apology, paid the bill.
"Run and get this note changed into silver for me," said the shoemaker to his boy, the moment his customer had departed.
"Now," said he, so soon as the silver was placed in his hands, "take two dollars to Mrs. Lee, and three to Mr. Weaver across the street. Tell Mr. Weaver that I am obliged to him for having loaned me the money this morning, and sorry that I hadn't as much in the house when he sent for it an hour ago."
"I wish I had it, Mrs. Elder. But, I assure you that I have not," said Mr. Weaver, the tailor. "I paid out the last dollar just before you came in. But call in to-morrow, and you shall have the money to a certainty."
"But what I am to do to-day? I haven't a cent to bless myself with; and I owe so much at the grocer's, where I deal, that he won't trust me for any thing more."
The tailor looked troubled, and the woman lingered. Just at this moment the shoemaker's boy entered.
"Here are the three dollars Mr. Grant borrowed of you this morning," said the lad. "He says he's sorry he hadn't the money when you sent for it awhile ago."
How the faces of the tailor and his needlewoman brightened instantly, as if a gleam of sunshine had penetrated the room.
"Here is just the money I owe you," said the former, in a cheerful voice, and he handed the woman the three dollars he had received. A moment after and he was alone, but with the glad face of the poor woman, whose need he had been able to supply, distinct before him.
Of the three dollars received by the needlewoman two went to the grocer, on account of her debt to him, half a dollar was paid to an old and needy coloured woman who had earned it by scrubbing, and who was waiting for Mrs. Weaver's return from the tailor's to get her due, and thus be able to provide an evening's and a morning's meal for herself and children. The other half-dollar was paid to the baker when he called towards evening to leave the accustomed loaf. Thus the poor needlewoman had been able to discharge four debts, and, at the same time re-establish her credit with the grocer and baker, from whom came the largest portion of the food consumed in her little family.
ANOTHER DEBT PAID.
And now let us follow Mrs. Lee. On her arrival at home empty-handed, from her visit to the shoemaker, who owed her two dollars for work, she found a young girl, in whose pale face were many marks of suffering and care, awaiting her return.
The girl's countenance brightened as she came in; but there was no answering brightness in the countenance of Mrs. Lee, who immediately said—
"I'm very sorry, Harriet, but Mr. Grant put me off until to-morrow. He said he hadn't a dollar in the house."
The girl's disappointment was very great, for the smile she had forced into life instantly faded, and was succeeded by a look of deep distress.
"Do you want the money very badly?" asked Mrs. Lee, in a low, half-choked voice, for the sudden change in the girl's manner had affected her.
"Oh, yes, ma'am, very badly. I left Mary wrapped up in my thick shawl, and a blanket wound all around her feet to keep them warm; but she was coughing dreadfully from the cold air of the room."
"Haven't you a fire?" asked Mrs. Lee, in a quick, surprised tone.
"We have no coal. It was to buy coal that I wanted the money."
Mrs. Lee struck her hands together, and an expression of pain was about passing her lips, when the door of the room opened, and the shoemaker's boy came in.
"Here are two dollars. Mr. Grant sent them."
"God bless Mr. Grant!" The exclamation from Mrs. Lee was involuntary.
On the part of Harriet, to whom one dollar was due, a gush of silent tears marked the effect this timely supply of money produced. She received her portion, and, without trusting her voice with words, hurried away to supply the pressing want at home.
A few doors from the residence of Mrs. Lee lived a man who, some months before, had become involved in trouble with an evil-disposed person, and been forced to defend himself by means of the law. He had employed Mr. Herriot to do what was requisite in the case, for which service the charge was five dollars. The bill had been rendered a few days before, and the man, who was poor, felt very anxious to pay it. He had the money all made up to within a dollar. That dollar Mrs. Lee owed him, and she had promised to give it to him during this day. For hours he had waited, expecting her to come in; but now had nearly given her up. There was another little bill of three dollars which had been sent in to him, and he had just concluded to go and pay that, when Mrs. Lee called with the balance of the money, one dollar, which she had received from the shoemaker, Grant.
Half an hour later, and the pocket-book of Mr. Herriot was no longer empty. His client had called and paid his bill. The five dollars had come back to him.
LOOK AT T'OTHER SIDE
"I don't like Mr. Monto at all," said Mr. Jones.
"Nor I," replied Mrs. Mayberry.
"Take him for better or worse," added Mr. Lee, "and I think he is the strangest and most inconsistent man I ever saw."
"Inconsistent!" resumed Mr. Jones. "He is worse than inconsistent. Inconsistencies may be pardoned, as constitutional defects and peculiarities of character. But he is worse than inconsistent, as I said."
"Yes, that he is," chimed in Mrs. Mayberry. "What do you think I heard of him last week?"
"What?" said Mr. Jones.
"Yes, what did you hear?" asked Mrs. Lee.
"You know Mr. Barker?"
"Yes."
"There isn't a more gentlemanly man living than Mr. Barker."
"Well, what of him?"
"He was in Mr. Monto's store one day last week, and happened to say something the little man did not like, when he fired up and insulted him most grossly."
"Indeed!"
"Yes. Mr. Barker told me himself. He said he was never more hurt in his life."
"He left the store, of course."
"Oh, yes. He turned on his heel and walked out, and says he will never darken the door of Monto's store again."
"It is too bad, this habit of insulting people which Monto has. I know several persons who are hot as fire against him."
"If there were nothing worse about him than that," said Mr. Jones, "I would be glad. His conduct towards the young man he raised was unpardonable."
"What was that? I never heard about it," remarked Mr. Lee.
"He had a young man whom he had raised from a lad, and who, it is said, was always faithful to his interests. Toward the last he became wild, having fallen into bad company. If Monto had been patient and forbearing toward him, the young man might have been reclaimed from his error; but his irascibility and impatience with every thing that did not go by square and rule, caused him to deal harshly with faults that needed a milder corrective. The young man, of course, grew worse. At last he got himself into a difficulty, and was arrested. Bail was demanded for his appearance to stand a trial for misconduct and breach of law. Monto was sent for to go his bail; but he heartlessly refused, and the poor fellow was thrown into prison, where he lay four months, and was then, after a trial, dismissed with a reprimand from the court. Feeling himself disgraced by confinement in a jail, he enlisted in the army as soon as he got free, and has gone off to the Indian country in the West. Isn't it melancholy? The ruin of that young man lies at Monto's door. His blood is on the skirts of his garments!"
"Dreadful to think of! Isn't it?" said Mrs. Mayberry. "Just imagine my son or your son thus cruelly dealt by! A fiend in human shape couldn't have done more!"
"It'll come back upon him one of these days. I believe in retribution. No man can do such things with impunity," added Mr. Lee. "Mark my words for it—Monto will repent of this, as well as a good many other acts of his life, before he dies."
"He's the meanest man I ever saw," said Mr. Jones. "I don't believe he ever gave a dollar for charitable purposes in his life."
"You may possibly err, there," remarked a fourth in the company, who had not before spoken.
"I should like to see the man, Mr. Berry, who can point to a benevolent act of Monto's," returned Mr. Jones in a decided voice.
"Perhaps," said Mr. Berry, "if we were as willing to look at the other side of men's characters, we should not entertain the poor opinion of them we do. If we were to look as closely at the good as we do at the bad, we might find, perhaps, as much to praise as we do to blame. When I was a boy, I had a penny given to me, and was about buying a large, seemingly fine apple, when my brother said in a warning voice, 'Look at t'other side.' I did look, and found it rotten. When I became a man, I remembered the lesson, and determined that I would not be deceived by fair appearances of character, but would be careful to look at t'other side for blemishes. I saw enough of these, even in the best, to sicken me with mankind. A few years passed, and I was glad to change my habit of observation. I began to look at the other and brighter side. The result surprised and pleased me. I found more good in men than I had supposed. Even in the worst there were some redeeming qualities."
"You will find few in Monto," said Mr. Lee.
"Do you see that man on the other side of the street?" asked Mr. Berry.
"Who? Miller?"
"Yes; that's the one I mean. I'll call him over, if you have no objection, and ask him a question or two. I think he can say something bearing on the subject of our present discourse."
The man was called, and he came over and entered the store of Mr. Jones, where the conversation happened to occur.
"Good morning, Miller! How are you to-day?" said Mr. Berry.
"Good morning! You've quite a party here. All friends, I see."
"We seem to have met by one of those happy accidents that sometimes occur. How are you getting along now, Miller? You've been through some pretty tight places, I believe."
"Yes; and, thanks to a good Providence! I am through them with a whole skin."
"Cause for congratulation, certainly. We meet with some hard rubs in our journey through life."
"Indeed we do. Adverse circumstances try us severely, and try our friends also. It has been so in my case. I thought I had a good many friends, until trouble came; but, as you know, there were few to stand by me when I most needed support."
"But you met with friends?"
"Yes, friends in need, who are friends indeed."
"And they were among those who had made no professions, and upon whom you did not feel that you had any claims?"
"Exactly so. This was particularly the case in one instance. Through losses, mistakes, and from errors on account of which I do not attempt to excuse myself, my business became embarrassed. What little real estate I had was thrown into market and sacrificed, but this did not meet my necessities. In the hope of weathering the storm, I removed from the handsome store I occupied into one at half the rent, reduced all expenses both in my business and family, but still I was not able, without the most untiring exertions, to meet my payments. More than half my time I was on the street, engaged in temporary expedients to raise money. I was harassed to death, and in daily dread of failure. In this unhappy posture of my affairs, I tried to get some permanent assistance from friends who were able enough to afford it, and who knew me well. But they were all afraid to risk any thing.
"One day I had been out from nine o'clock until two, using my best efforts to obtain sufficient money to meet my notes. I had a thousand dollars to pay, and could only thus far raise five hundred. Everywhere that I could think of going I went, but no one would help me through my difficulty. Dispirited and alarmed at the perilous position of my affairs, I returned to my store, in order to sit down and reflect for a few minutes. I thought over all my business acquaintance, but there were none upon whom I had not already called, that I felt free to ask for the loan of money. Things seemed desperate. Something must be done, or I would be ruined. Already the finger of time was past the mark of two. In less than an hour my paper would be dishonoured, unless I could in some way command the sum of five hundred dollars. I thought, and thought, until I felt stupid. At last a man whom I had never liked much came up before my mind. I had some little acquaintance with him, and knew, or supposed, that he had money. The idea of going to him I would not at first entertain. But things were desperate. At last I started up, determined to see this man.
"'He can but refuse me,' I murmured to myself.
"'It is past two o'clock,' said I abruptly, as I met him standing at his counter, 'and I am still five hundred dollars short. Can you lend me that sum for a few days?'
"I expected him to say 'no.' What was my surprise then to hear him reply—
"'I can, and with pleasure.'
"I could hardly believe my ears. But by the assistance of my eyes, when he put a check for the amount I had asked for into my hands, I was fully assured that he was in earnest. I don't know that I ever stopped to thank him, so overjoyed was I at such unexpected and cheerfully tendered relief. Three or four days afterward I took him the money he had loaned me.
"'Keep it longer, if you desire to do so. I have no present use for it,' said he.
"I hardly knew whether to take him at his word or not. But necessity is an eloquent pleader.
"'If you can spare it as well as not, it will be an accommodation. My payments are heavy in the next ten days,' I replied.
"'Retain the use of it and welcome,' said he kindly. After a pause, he inquired how I was getting along, and did it with so much sincerity that I was tempted to state frankly the position of my affairs, and did so. He listened with a good deal of interest, and afterward asked many questions as to the nature and profits of my business. I concealed nothing from him in favour or against myself as a business-man.
"'You must be sustained, Mr. Miller,' said he. 'I have a few thousand dollars uninvested, that I will keep free for six months or so. As far as you need assistance in meeting your payments, I will afford it. Pay no more exorbitant interests; waste no more time in running about after money; but put all your thoughts and energies down to your business, and twelve months from to-day will see you freed from embarrassment.'
"And he was right."
"He was certainly a noble fellow," said Mr. Jones. "Pity there were not more like him!"
"That it is," remarked Mrs. Mayberry.
"He belongs to another grade of beings than your Montos."
"Who?" Miller spoke quickly.
"We were talking of Monto when I called you," said Mr. Berry. "Our friends have a very poor opinion of him."
"Of Mr. Monto? Why, it is of him that I just now spoke."
"Of Monto!" ejaculated Lee.
"Certainly. He it was who so generously befriended me."
"Impossible!" ejaculated Mrs. Mayberry.
"Not at all, for it is true. I never was more mistaken in any one in my life than in Mr. Monto. He has his faults and defects of character, as all men have. He is irascible and impatient, and makes in consequence a great many enemies."
"He was certainly kind to you, Mr. Miller," said Mrs. Mayberry. "But still, I don't believe in him. Look at the way he treated that poor young man whom he raised from a boy. That stamps his character. That shows him to be cruel and vindictive."
"There is another side to that story, without doubt," remarked Mr. Berry.
"That there is," said Miller; "and suppose we look at it. Monto knew that young man much better than you or I, or any of us. He had borne with his irregular habits and evil conduct for years, as well as a man of his peculiar temperament could bear with them."
"A precious kind of forbearance it was, no doubt. It isn't in him to bear with any one," broke in Mr. Jones.
"Will you censure a man for what he can't help?" asked Mr. Miller.
"I don't know that we should," was replied.
"It is clear that we ought not; for to do so would be for us to ask of him an impossibility, and censure him for not performing it. Mr. Monto is a man, as we all know, of exceedingly impatient temper. Keep that in view. He takes this boy when quite young, and educates him as well as teaches him his business. Before he is of age he abuses the confidence reposed in him by his benefactor, neglects his business, associates with vicious companions, and purloins his money. Still Monto bears with him, in the hope that he will change. But he grows worse and worse; and at length, after a long series of peculations at home, gets into a difficulty, and is sent to jail to await the judgment of the law in his case. I happened to be in Mr. Monto's store when he was sent for to bail the young man out.
"'No,' he said firmly to the messenger, 'he is much better in prison than out.'
"The man went away, and Monto, turning to me, said—
"'That, Mr. Miller, is the most painful thing I have done in my whole life. But to have acted otherwise would have been wrong. Kind admonition, stern reproof, angry expostulation, all have failed with this young man, in whom I cannot help feeling a strong interest. I will now leave him to the consequences of his own acts, and to the, I hope, salutary results of his own reflections. If these fail to reform him, there is no hope.' This was the spirit in which it was done. He did not attend court when the trial came on, but he had a messenger there, who kept him constantly advised of the proceedings. The acquittal gave him great pleasure, and he expected the young man would return to him, changed and penitent. He was, alas! grievously mistaken. The enlistment hurt him exceedingly. I could perceive that his voice was unsteady when he spoke of it. If he erred in his conduct, it was an error of judgment. He meant to do good. But I do not believe he erred. In my opinion, the young man is fit only for the grade he now occupies, and he is better off where he is."
"There is good in every one," said Mr. Berry, when Miller ceased speaking; "and we will find it, if we look at the other side."
"No truer word than that was ever spoken," returned Mr. Miller. "Yes, there is good in every one; and more good than evil in Monto, you may all be assured."
The censurers of Monto approved the words by a marked and half-mortified silence.
Yes, there is good in every one; there is another side. Let us look for this good rather than for what is evil, and we will think better of mankind than we are now disposed to do.
THIN SHOES.