The two years that followed Job's untoward accident, instead of mending
his fortunes, had only added to his embarrassments--all owing to his
being just a hundred pounds behind the mark, which, as he often said,
the price he could have obtained for poor Selim would have effectually
prevented. His circumstances daily grew worse and worse, and at last
became so desperate, that this patient and amiable couple were almost
driven to their wits' end. Creditors, becoming impatient, at last
resorted to legal remedies to recover their demands, until all his
furniture was taken possession of under judicial process, which, being
insufficient to discharge one half the debts for which judgments had
been signed against him, he had no better prospect before his eyes than
exchanging the bare walls of his present abode for the still more gloomy
confines of a debtor's prison.
He had striven hard, but in vain, to bear all these trials with
fortitude; and even poor Jessie--she who had hitherto never repined at
the hardness of her lot, and who, to cheer her husband's drooping
spirits, had worn a cheerful smile upon her countenance, whilst a load
of sorrow pressed heavily upon her heart--even she now looked pale and
sad, as with an anxious eye she stood by and watched poor Job, leaning
with his back against the wall in an up-stairs room, now devoid of every
article of furniture. And there he had been for hours, completely
overcome by the accumulation of woes he saw no loophole to escape from;
whilst his two little girls, terrified at the desolate appearance of
every thing around them, and at the unusual agitation of their parents,
were crouched together in a corner, fast grasped together, as if for
mutual protection, in each other's arms.
Not a morsel of food had that day passed the lips of any member of that
unhappy family, and every moveable belonging to the house had been taken
away at an early hour in the morning; so that nothing but the bare walls
were left for shelter, and hard boards for them to lie upon. Often had
poor Jessie essayed to speak some words of comfort to her husband's ear;
but even these, which had never before failed, were no longer at her
command; for when some cheering thought suggested itself, a choking
sensation in her throat deprived her of the power of uttering it. At
length a loud single rap at the street door caused Job to start, whilst
a hectic flush passed over his pale cheek, and a violent tremor shook
his frame, as the dread thought of a prison occurred to him.
"Don't be alarmed, my dearest," said his wife, "it's only some people
with something or other to sell; I dare say they'll go away again when
they find that no one answers the door."
"It's a beggar," said one of the children, who, hearing the sound, had
looked out of the window; "poor man, he looks miserably cold! I wish
we'd something to give him."
"Beggar, did the child say?" demanded Job, gazing wildly round the room.
"Beggar!" he repeated. "And what are we all but beggars? Are we not
stripped of every thing? Are we not actually starving for want of the
daily bread that I have toiled so hard for, and prayed unceasingly to
heaven to afford us; whilst those who never use their Maker's name
except in terms of blasphemy, have loads of affluence heaped into their
laps. Oh! it's enough to make one doubt"----
"Oh, no, no, no! don't, for the love you bear me--don't utter those
awful words!" cried out Jessie, rushing upon her husband, and throwing
her arms around his neck. "As you love me, don't repine at the will of
heaven, however hard our trials may seem now to bear on us. I can endure
all but this. Let us hope still. We have all of us health and strength;
and we have many friends who, if they were only aware of the extent of
our distress, would be sure to relieve us. There's your good friend Mr
Smith, he most probably will return from London to-morrow; and you know,
in his letter, he told you to keep up your spirits, for that there was
yet good-luck in store for you; and I am sure you must have thought so
then, or you never would have returned him the money he so kindly
remitted us. So, don't be cast down in almost your first hour of trial;
we shall be happy yet--I know we shall; let us then still put our trust
in God. Don't answer me, my dear Job--don't answer me; I know how much
you are excited, and that you are not now yourself; for my sake, for our
dear children's sake, try to be tranquil but for to-night; and let us
yet hope that there is some comfort yet in store for us on the morrow."
"I will strive to, my dearest Jessie," he replied. "I'll not add another
drop of bitterness to your cup of sorrow, because I am unable to relieve
you from it.--But hark! what's this coming, and stopping here too?--what
can be the meaning of this?"
Just as he uttered these last words the sound of carriage-wheels was
heard rapidly approaching, and a post-chaise drew up in front of the
house. Job trembled violently, and leant upon his wife for support,
whilst a thundering rap was heard at the door; the children both rushed
to the window; and one of them, to the great relief of their parents,
exclaimed, "Oh! my dear papa! Mr Smith's come, and he's looking up here
smiling so good-naturedly; he looks as if he was just come off a
journey, and he's beckoning me to come down and let him in."
"God be praised!" exclaimed Jessie; "I told you, my dear Job, that
relief was near at hand, and here it comes in the person of your
excellent friend;" and she darted out of the room, and hurried down the
stairs to admit the welcome visitor. Jessie soon returned with Mr Smith,
a handsome gentlemanly-looking man, who ran forward with extended hands
to his disconsolate friend, whom he greeted in so kind a manner, and
with a countenance so merry and happy, that the very look of it seemed
enough to impart some spirit of consolation even to a breaking heart--at
any rate it did to Job's. "My dear fellow!" exclaimed the welcome
visitor, "how on earth did you allow things to come to this pass without
even hinting any thing of the kind to me? I never heard it till the day
I left town. How could you return me the remittance I sent you, which
should have been ten times as much had I known the full extent of your
wants? But enough of this now; we won't waste time in regrets for the
past, and as for the future, leave that to me. I'll soon set things all
straight and smooth again for you. And now, my dear Mrs Vivian," added
he, addressing himself to Jessie, "do you go and do as you promised."
Jessie smiled assent, and, looking quite happy again, she took her two
daughters by the hand and led them out of the room.
"But, my dear Smith," said Job, as soon as the two friends were alone,
"you can have no idea how deeply I am involved. I can tax your
generosity no further--even what you have already done for me, I can
never repay."
"Nor do I intend you ever shall," rejoined the worthy attorney--for
such was Mr Smith--"particularly," he added, "as there's a certain debt
I owe you, which I neither can nor will repay, and that I candidly tell
you."
"Indeed! what do you mean?" asked Job, looking very puzzled; "I'm rather
dull of apprehension to-day." And verily he was so, for his troubles had
wellnigh driven him mad.
"My life, Job, that's all," replied the attorney; "_that_ I owe to you,
and can't repay you--and won't either, that's more. Had it not been for
your skill," he added in a graver tone, "and the firmness you displayed
in resolutely opposing the treatment those two blackguards, Dunderhead
and Quackem, wished to adopt in my case, I must have died a most
distressing and painful death, and my poor wife and children would have
been left perfectly destitute."
The consciousness of the truth of this grateful remark infused a
cheering glow to Job's broken spirit, and even raised a faint smile upon
his care-worn countenance; which his visitor perceiving, went on to say,
"And now, my good doctor, owing you so deep a debt of gratitude as I do,
make your mind easy about the past; what you've had from me is a mere
trifle. Why, my good fellow, I'm not the poor unhappy dog I was when you
told me never to mind when I paid you. I'm now getting on in the world,
and shall fancy by and by that I'm getting rich; and, what's more, I
expect soon to see my friend Job Vivian in circumstances so much more
thriving than my own, that if I didn't know him to be one of the
sincerest fellows in the world, and one whom no prosperity could spoil,
I should begin to fear he might be ashamed to acknowledge his old
acquaintance."
The good-natured attorney had proved more of a Job's comforter in the
literal sense of the term, than he had intended; in fact he had overdone
it--the picture was too highly coloured to appear natural, and at once
threw back poor Job upon a full view of all his troubles, which Mr Smith
perceiving, mildly resumed, "I'm not surprised, my good fellow, at your
being excited, from the violent shock your feelings must have sustained;
but you may rest assured--mind I speak confidently, and will vouch for
the truth of what I'm going to say--when I tell you that the worst of
your troubles are past, and that, before the week is out, you will be
going on all right again; but really you are so much depressed now, that
I'm afraid to encourage you too much; for I believe you doctors consider
that too sudden a transition from grief to joy often produces dangerous,
and sometimes even fatal, consequences?"
"It's a death I stand in no dread of dying," said Job with a melancholy
smile.
"You don't know your danger perhaps," interposed the attorney; "but at
the same time you sha'n't die through my means; so, if I had even a
berth in store for you that I thought might better your condition, I
wouldn't now venture to name it to you."
"It might be almost dangerous," said Job; "any thing that would procure
the humblest fare, clothing, and shelter, for myself and family, would
confer a degree of happiness far beyond my expectation."
"Why, if you are so easily satisfied," rejoined the attorney, "I think I
can venture to say, that these, at least, may be obtained for you
forthwith; but come, here's the chaise returned again, which has just
taken your good little wife and children to my house, where they're all
now expecting us. In fact, I haven't yet crossed my own threshold, for I
picked up my old woman as I came along, and she has taken your folks
back with her; so come along, Job, we'll talk matters over after
dinner--come along, my dear fellow--come along, come along."
Job suffered himself to be led away, hardly knowing what he was about,
or what was going on, until he found himself seated in the post-chaise;
which, almost before he had time to collect his scattered ideas, drew up
at the attorney's door. Here he met his Jessie, her handsome and
expressive countenance again radiant with smiles; for in that short
interval she had heard enough to satisfy her mind that better times were
approaching, and her only remaining anxiety was on poor Job's account,
who seemed so stunned by the heavy blow of misfortune, as to appear more
like one wandering in a dream than a man in his right senses. But a
change of scene, and that the pleasing one of a comfortable family
dinner, with sincere friends, effected a wonderful alteration; and the
ladies withdrawing early, in order that the gentlemen might talk over
their business together, Mr Smith at once entered into the subject, by
telling Job that he thought he could, as he had before hinted, put him
into a way of bettering his condition.
"I trust you may be able to do so," replied Job; "I'm sure there's no
labour I would shrink from, could I attain so desirable an object."
"But you mistake me there," interrupted the attorney; "I don't mean to
better your condition by making you work yourself to death--far from it;
your labours shall be but light, and your time pretty much at your
command; but you'll want, perhaps, a little money to begin with."
"And where, in the world, am I to procure it?" asked Job.
"You might raise it upon the interest you take in the landed property
under the old timber-merchant's will," observed the attorney.
"You can hardly be serious, my dear Smith," replied Job; "why, the old
fellow--God forgive him as freely as I do--merely put in my name with a
bequest of a shilling, to bring me better luck, as a poor insult upon my
misfortunes. And as to his mentioning my name in connexion with his
landed property, which I was to take after the failure of issue of at
least half a dozen other people--you yourself told me was only put in to
show his nearest heirs, that rather than his property should descend
upon them, they should go to the person--Heaven help the man!--he was
pleased to call his greatest enemy, and that my chance of ever
succeeding to the property wasn't worth twopence."
"Whatever his motive was is immaterial now," interposed Mr Smith; "and
since I expressed the opinion you allude to, so many of the previous
takers have died off, that I have no hesitation in saying that your
interest is worth money now, and that, if you wished it, I could insure
you a purchaser."
"Oh, then, sell it by all means!" exclaimed Job.
"Not quite so fast, my friend," answered the attorney; "before you think
of selling, would it not be prudent to ascertain the value, which
depends in a great measure on the number of preceding estates that have
determined since the testator's decease."
"Of course it must," rejoined Job; "but any thing I could obtain from
that quarter I should esteem a gain. I've lost enough from it in all
conscience; in fact, the old man's harsh proceedings towards me were the
foundation of all my subsequent difficulties. The old fellow did,
indeed, boast to the clergyman who visited him in his last illness, that
he had made me ample amends in his will for any injustice he might have
done me in his lifetime, and that his mind was quite easy upon that
score; and I'm sure mine will be, when I find that I actually can gain
something by him."
"Then listen to me patiently, and I'll tell you just what you'll gain;
but first help yourself, and pass me the wine. You'll gain a larger
amount than you would guess at, if you were to try for a week. Much more
than sufficient to pay every one of your creditors their full twenty
shillings in the pound."
"Will it indeed?" exclaimed Job; "then may God forgive me as one of the
most ungrateful of sinners, who had almost begun to think that the
Almighty had deserted him."
"Forgive you, to be sure," said the kind-hearted lawyer; "why, even your
holy namesake, the very pattern of patient resignation, would grumble a
bit now and then, when his troubles pinched him in a particularly sore
place. So take another glass whilst I proceed with our subject: and so
you see, doctor, your debts are paid--that's settled. Hold your tongue,
Job; don't interrupt me, and drink your wine; that's good port, isn't
it? the best thing in the world for your complaint. Well, then, all this
may be done without selling your chance outright; and in case you should
want to do so, lest you should part with it too cheaply, we'll just see
how many of the preceding estates have already determined. First, the
testator himself must be disposed of; he died, as we all know, and
nobody sorry, within six weeks after he had made his will. Then the
tailor in Regent Street, he had scarcely succeeded to the property when
he suddenly dropped down dead in his own shop. His son and heir, and
only child, before he had enjoyed the property six months, wishing to
acquire some fashionable notoriety, purposely got into a quarrel with a
profligate young nobleman well known about town, who killed him in a
duel the next morning. The traveller in the button line, on whom the
property next devolved, was in a bad state of health when he succeeded
to it, and died a bachelor about three months since; and his brother,
the lieutenant, who was also unmarried, had died of a fever on the coast
of Africa some time before; so that you see your chance seems to be
bettered at least one half, in the course of little more than a couple
of twelvemonths."
"So it has, indeed," said Job; "but who, with the other three remainder
men, as you call them, and their issue in the way, would give any thing
for my poor chance?"
"But suppose," resumed Mr Smith, "the other three should happen to die,
and leave no issue."
"That's a species of luck not very likely to fall to my lot," replied
Job.
"Then I must at once convince you of your error," rejoined Mr Smith;
"and, so to cut short what I've been making a very long story of--the
remaining three of the testator's nephews, upon whom the property was
settled, not one of whom was ever married, got drunk together at a
white-bait dinner at Greenwich, which their elder brother gave to
celebrate his accession to the property, and, returning towards town in
that state in a wherry, they managed between them to upset the boat, and
were all drowned. That I've ascertained--such, in fact, being my sole
business in town; and now, my dear Job, let me congratulate you on being
the proprietor of at least five thousand a-year."
AND SO HE WAS!
"And thus you see," said the squire, in whose own words we conclude the
tale--"the being dispossessed of his houses, and the loss of his
valuable horse, to which he attributed all his misfortunes, in the end
proved the source of his greatest gain; and now, throughout the whole
length and breadth of the land, I don't think you'll find two persons
better satisfied with their lot than Job and his little wife Jessie,
notwithstanding the timber-merchant made it a condition, that if Job
Vivian should ever succeed to his property, he should take the
testator's surname of Potts--not a pretty one, I confess--and thus Job
Vivian, surgeon, apothecary, &c., has become metamorphosed into the Job
Vivian Potts, Esquire, who has now the honour to address you. His worthy
friend, Smith--now, alas! no more--who, like my self, was induced to
change his name, was Mr Vernon Wycherley's father. I told you, my dear
sir, before, how valued a friend your late father was of mine, and how
much I stood indebted to him; but this is the first time I have made you
acquainted with any of the particulars, and now I fear I've tired you
with my tedious narration."
"Indeed you have not!" exclaimed both the young men, whilst Vernon
added, that he only regretted not knowing who the parties were during
the progress of the tale, which, had he done, he should have listened to
it with redoubled interest; for who amongst the thousands of Smiths
dispersed about the land, though he had once a father of the name, could
be expected to recognise him as part hero of a tale he had never heard
him allude to; "but pray tell me," he added, "about the poor girl you
went to see at the time the accident occurred to your horse? Did she
ever recover?"
"No," replied the squire, "she died within a few days afterwards. In
fact, as I believe I before stated, I knew she was past all hope of
recovery at the time I set off to visit her."
"And the little broken-knee'd and spavined pony you were compelled to
borrow--do pray tell us how he carried you?" interposed Frank, looking
as demure and innocent as possible.
"Badly, very badly, indeed!" replied the squire; "for the sorry brute
stumbled at nearly every third step, and at last tumbling down in real
earnest, threw me sprawling headlong into the mud; and then favoured me
with a sight of his heels, with the prospect of a couple of miles before
me to hobble home through the rain."