LITTLE THINGS.
"The sober comfort, all the peace which springs
From the large aggregate of little things;
On these small cares of daughter, wife, or friend,
The almost sacred joys of Home depend."--_Hannah More_.
"Know when to spend and when to spare,
And when to buy, and thou shalt ne'er be bare."
"He that despiseth little things, shall perish by little and
little."--_Ecclesiasticus_.
Neglect of small things is the rock on which the great majority of the
human race have split. Human life consists of a succession of small
events, each of which is comparatively unimportant, and yet the
happiness and success of every man depends upon the manner in which
these small events are dealt with. Character is built up on little
things,--little things well and honourably transacted. The success of a
man in business depends on his attention to little things. The comfort
of a household is the result of small things well arranged and duly
provided for. Good government can only be accomplished in the same
way,--by well-regulated provisions for the doing of little things.
Accumulations of knowledge and experience of the most valuable kind are
the result of little bits of knowledge and experience carefully
treasured up. Those who learn nothing or accumulate nothing in life, are
set down as failures,--because they have neglected little things. They
may themselves consider that the world has gone against them; but in
fact they have been their own enemies. There has long been a popular
belief in "good luck;" but, like many other popular notions, it is
gradually giving way. The conviction is extending that diligence is the
mother of good luck; in other words, that a man's success in life will
be proportionate to his efforts, to his industry, to his attention to
small things. Your negligent, shiftless, loose fellows never meet with
luck; because the results of industry are denied to those who will not
use the proper efforts to secure them.
It is not luck, but labour, that makes men. Luck, says an American
writer, is ever waiting for something to turn up; Labour, with keen eye
and strong will, always turns up something. Luck lies in bed and wishes
the postman would bring him news of a legacy; Labour turns out at six,
and with busy pen or ringing hammer lays the foundation of a competence.
Luck whines; Labour whistles. Luck relies on chance; Labour on
character. Luck slips downwards to self-indulgence; Labour strides
upward, and aspires to independence.
There are many little things in the household, attention to which is
indispensable to health and happiness. Cleanliness consists in attention
to a number of apparent trifles--the scrubbing of a floor, the dusting
of a chair, the cleansing of a teacup,--but the general result of the
whole is an atmosphere of moral and physical well-being,--a condition
favourable to the highest growth of human character. The kind of air
which circulates in a house may seem a small matter,--for we cannot see
the air, and few people know anything about it. Yet if we do not provide
a regular supply of pure air within our houses, we shall inevitably
suffer for our neglect. A few specks of dirt may seem neither here nor
there, and a closed door or window would appear to make little
difference; but it may make the difference of a life destroyed by fever;
and therefore the little dirt and the little bad air are really very
serious matters. The whole of the household regulations are, taken by
themselves, trifles--but trifles tending to an important result.
A pin is a very little thing in an article of dress, but the way in
which it is put into the dress often reveals to you the character of the
wearer. A shrewd fellow was once looking out for a wife, and was on a
visit to a family of daughters with this object. The fair one, of whom
he was partially enamoured, one day entered the room in which he was
seated with her dress partially unpinned, and her hair untidy: he never
went back. You may say, such a fellow was "not worth a pin;" but he was
really a shrewd fellow, and afterwards made a good husband. He judged of
women as of men--by little things; and he was right.
A druggist advertised for an assistant, and he had applications from a
score of young man. He invited them all to come to his shop at the same
time, and set them each to make up a pennyworth of salts into a packet.
He selected the one that did this little thing in the neatest and most
expert manner. He inferred their general practical ability from their
performance of this smallest bit of business.
Neglect of little things has ruined many fortunes and marred the best of
enterprises. The ship which bore home the merchant's treasure was lost
because it was allowed to leave the port from which it sailed with a
very little hole in the bottom. For want of a nail the shoe of the
aide-de-camp's horse was lost; for want of the shoe, the horse was lost;
for want of the horse, the aide-de-camp himself was lost, for the enemy
took him and killed him; and for want of the aide-de camp's
intelligence, the army of his general was lost: and all because a little
nail had not been properly fixed in a horse's shoe!
"It will do!" is the common phrase of those who neglect little things.
"It will do!" has blighted many a character, blasted many a fortune,
sunk many a ship, burnt down many a house, and irretrievably ruined
thousands of hopeful projects of human good. It always means stopping
short of the right thing. It is a makeshift. It is a failure and defeat.
Not what "will do," but what is the best possible thing to do,--is the
point to be aimed at! Let a man once adopt the maxim of "It will do,"
and he is given over to the enemy,--he is on the side of incompetency
and defeat,--and we give him up as a hopeless subject!
M. Say, the French political economist, has related the following
illustration of the neglect of little things. Once, at a farm in the
country, there was a gate enclosing the cattle and poultry, which was
constantly swinging open for want of a proper latch. The expenditure of
a penny or two, and a few minutes' time, would have made all right. It
was on the swing every time a person went out, and not being in a state
to shut readily, many of the poultry were from time to time lost. One
day a fine young porker made his escape, and the whole family, with the
gardener, cook, and milkmaid, turned out in quest of the fugitive. The
gardener was the first to discover the pig, and in leaping a ditch to
cut off his escape, got a sprain that kept him to his bed for a
fortnight. The cook, on her return to the farm-house, found the linen
burnt that she had hung up before the fire to dry; and the milkmaid,
having forgotten in her haste to tie up the cattle in the cow-house, one
of the loose cows had broken the leg of a colt that happened to be kept
in the same shed. The linen burnt and the gardener's work lost were
worth full five pounds, and the colt worth nearly double that money: so
that here was a loss in a few minutes of a large sum, purely for want of
a little latch which might have been supplied for a few halfpence. Life
is full of illustrations of a similar kind. When small things are
habitually neglected, ruin is not far off. It is the hand of the
diligent that maketh rich; and the diligent man or woman is attentive to
small things as well as great. The things may appear very little and
insignificant, yet attention to them is as necessary as to matters of
greater moment.
Take, for instance, the humblest of coins--a penny. What is the use of
that little piece of copper--a solitary penny? What can it buy? Of what
use is it? It is half the price of a glass of beer. It is the price of a
box of matches. It is only fit for giving to a beggar. And yet how much
of human happiness depends upon the spending of the penny well.
A man may work hard, and earn high wages; but if he allows the pennies,
which are the result of hard work, to slip out of his fingers--some
going to the beershop, some this way, and some that,--he will find that
his life of hard work is little raised above a life of animal drudgery.
On the other hand, if he take care of the pennies--putting some weekly
into a benefit society or an insurance fund, others into a savings bank,
and confides the rest to his wife to be carefully laid out, with a view
to the comfortable maintenance and culture of his family,--he will soon
find that his attention to small matters will abundantly repay him, in
increasing means, in comfort at home, and in a mind comparatively free
from fears as to the future.
All savings are made up of little things. "Many a little makes a
mickle." Many a penny makes a pound. A penny saved is the seed of pounds
saved. And pounds saved mean comfort, plenty, wealth, and independence.
But the penny must be earned honestly. It is said that a penny earned
honestly is better than a shilling given. A Scotch proverb says, "The
gear that is gifted is never sae sweet as the gear that is won." What
though the penny be black? "The smith and his penny are both black." But
the penny earned by the smith is an honest one.
If a man does not know how to save his pennies or his pounds, his nose
will always be kept to the grindstone. Want may come upon him any day,
"like an armed man." Careful saving acts like magic: once begun, it
grows into habit. It gives a man a feeling of satisfaction, of strength,
of security. The pennies he has put aside in his savings box, or in the
savings bank, give him an assurance of comfort in sickness, or of rest
in old age. The man who saves has something to weather-fend him against
want; while the man who saves not has nothing between him and bitter,
biting poverty.
A man may be disposed to save money, and lay it by for sickness or for
other purposes; but he cannot do this unless his wife lets him, or helps
him. A prudent, frugal, thrifty woman is a crown of glory to her
husband. She helps him in all his good resolutions; she may, by quiet
and gentle encouragement, bring out his better qualities; and by her
example she may implant in him noble principles, which are the seeds of
the highest practical virtues.
The Rev. Mr. Owen, formerly of Bilston,--a good friend and adviser of
working people,--used to tell a story of a man who was not an economist,
but was enabled to become so by the example of his wife. The man was a
calico-printer at Manchester, and he was persuaded by his wife, on their
wedding-day, to allow her two half-pints of ale a day, as her share. He
rather winced at the bargain, for, though a drinker himself, he would
have preferred a perfectly sober wife. They both worked hard; and he,
poor man, was seldom out of the public-house as soon as the factory was
closed.
She had her daily pint, and he, perhaps, had his two or three quarts,
and neither interfered with the other? except that, at odd times, she
succeeded, by dint of one little gentle artifice or another, to win him
home an hour or two earlier at night; and now and then to spend an
entire evening in his own house. They had been married a year, and on
the morning of their wedding anniversary, the husband looked askance at
her neat and comely person, with some shade of remorse, as he said,
"Mary, we've had no holiday since we were wed; and, only that I have not
a penny in the world, we'd take a jaunt down to the village, to see thee
mother."
"Would'st like to go, John? "said she, softly,between a smile and a
tear, so glad to hear him speak so kindly,--so like old times. "If
thee'd like to go, John, I'll stand treat."
"Thou stand treat!" said he, with half a sneer: "Has't got a fortun',
wench?"
"Nay," said she, "but I've gotten the pint o' ale."
"Gotten what?" said he.
"The pint o' ale!" said she.
John still didn't understand her, till the faithful creature reached
down an old stocking from under a loose brick up the chimney, and
counted out her daily pint of ale in the shape of three hundred and
sixty-five threepences, _i.e.,_ £4 11_s._ 3_d._, and put them into his
hand, exclaiming, "Thou shalt have thee holiday, John!"
John was ashamed, astonished, conscience-stricken, charmed, and wouldn't
touch it. "Hasn't thee had thy share? Then I'll ha' no more! "he said.
He kept his word. They kept their wedding-day with mother,--and the
wife's little capital was the nucleus of a series of frugal investments,
that ultimately swelled out into a shop, a factory, warehouses, a
country seat, carriage, and, perhaps, a Liverpool Mayor.
In the same way, a workman of even the humblest sort, whose prosperity
and regularity of conduct show to his fellow-workmen what industry,
temperance, manly tenderness, and superiority to low and sensual
temptation can effect, in endearing a home which is bright even amidst
the gloom of poverty--such a man does good as well as the most eloquent
writer that ever wrote. If there were a few patriarchs of the people
such as this, their beneficial influence would soon be sensibly felt by
society at large. A life well spent is worth any number of speeches. For
example is a language far more eloquent than words: it is instruction in
action--wisdom at work.
A man's daily life is the best test of his moral and social state. Take
two men, for instance, both working at the same trade and earning the
same money; yet how different they may be as respects their actual
condition. The one looks a free man; the other a slave. The one lives in
a snug cottage; the other in a mud hovel. The one has always a decent
coat to his back; the other is in rags. The children of the one are
clean, well dressed, and at school; the children of the other are dirty,
filthy, and often in the gutter. The one possesses the ordinary comforts
of life, as well as many of its pleasures and conveniences--perhaps a
well-chosen library; the other has few of the comforts of life,
certainly no pleasures, enjoyments, nor books. And yet these two men
earn the same wages. What is the cause of the difference between them?
It is in this. The one man is intelligent and prudent; the other is the
reverse. The one denies himself for the benefit of his wife, his family,
and his home; the other denies himself nothing, but lives under the
tyranny of evil habits. The one is a sober man, and takes pleasure in
making his home attractive and his family comfortable; the other cares
nothing for his home and family, but spends the greater part of his
earnings in the gin-shop or the public-house. The one man looks up; the
other looks down. The standard of enjoyment of the one is high; and of
the other low. The one man likes books, which instruct and elevate his
mind; the other likes drink, which tends to lower and brutalize him. The
one saves his money; the other wastes it.
"I say, mate," said one workman to another, as they went home one
evening from their work, "will you tell me how it is that you contrive
to get on? how it is that you manage to feed and clothe your family as
you do, and put money in the Penny Bank besides; whilst I, who have as
good wages as you, and fewer children, can barely make the ends meet?"
"Well, I will tell you; it only consists in this--in _taking care of the
pennies!_"
"What! Is that all, Ransom?"
"Yes, and a good 'all' too. Not one in fifty knows the secret. For
instance, Jack, _you_ don't."
"How! I? Let's see how you make that out."
"Now you have asked my secret, I'll tell you all about it. But you must
not be offended if I speak plain. First, I pay nothing for my drink."
"Nothing? Then you don't pay your shot, but sponge upon your
neighbours."
"Never! I drink water, which costs nothing. Drunken days have all their
to-morrows, as the old proverb says. I spare myself sore heads and shaky
hands, and save my pennies. Drinking water neither makes a man sick nor
in debt, nor his wife a widow. And that, let me tell you, makes a
considerable difference in our out-go. It may amount to about
half-a-crown a week, or seven pounds a year. That seven pounds will
clothe myself and children, while you are out at elbows and your
children go barefoot."
"Come, come, that's going too far. I don't drink at that rate. I may
take an odd half-pint now and then; but half-a-crown a week! Pooh!
pooh!"
"Well, then, how much did you spend on drink last Saturday night? Out
with it."
"Let me see: I had a pint with Jones; I think I had another with Davis,
who is just going to Australia; and then I went to the lodge."
"Well, how many glasses had you there?"
"How can I tell? I forget. But it's all stuff and nonsense, Bill!"
"Oh, you can't tell: you don't know what you spent? I believe you. But
that's the way your pennies go, my lad."
"And that's all your secret?"
"Yes; take care of the penny--that's all. Because I save, I have, when
you want. It's very simple, isn't it?"
"Simple, oh yes; but there's nothing in it."
"Yes! there's this in it,--that it has made you ask me the question, how
I manage to keep my family so comfortably, and put money in the Penny
Bank, while you, with the same wages, can barely make the ends meet.
Money is independence, and money is made by putting pennies together.
Besides, I work so hard for mine,--and so do you,--that I can't find it
in my heart to waste a penny on drink, when I can put it beside a few
other hard-earned pennies in the bank. It's something for a sore foot or
a rainy day. There's that in it, Jack; and there's comfort also in the
thought that, whatever may happen to me, I needn't beg nor go to the
workhouse. The saving of the penny makes me feel a free man. The man
always in debt, or without a penny beforehand, is little better than a
slave."
"But if we had our rights, the poor would not be so hardly dealt with as
they now are."
"Why, Jack, if you had your rights to-morrow, would they put your money
back into your pocket after you had spent it?--would your rights give
your children shoes and stockings when you had chosen to waste on beer
what would have bought them? Would your rights make you or your wife,
thriftier, or your hearthstone cleaner? Would rights wash your
children's faces, and mend the holes in your clothes? No, no, friend!
Give us our rights by all means, but _rights are not habits_, and it's
habits we want--good habits. With these we can be free men and
independent men _now_, if we but determine to be so. Good night, Jack,
and mind my secret,--it's nothing but _taking care of the pennies_, and
the pounds will take care of themselves."
"Good-night!" And Jack turned off at the lane-end towards his humble and
dirty cottage in Main's Court. I might introduce you to his home,--but
"home" it could scarcely be called. It was full of squalor and
untidiness, confusion and dirty children, where a slattern-looking woman
was scolding. Ransom's cottage, On the contrary, _was_ a home. It was
snug, trig, and neat; the hearthstone was fresh sanded; the wife, though
her hands were full of work, was clean and tidy; and her husband, his
day's work over, could sit down with his children about him, in peace
and comfort.
The _chief secret_ was now revealed. Ransom's secret, about the penny,
was a very good one, so far as it went. But he had not really told the
whole truth. He could not venture to tell his less fortunate comrade
that the root of all domestic prosperity, the mainstay of all domestic
comfort, is _the wife_; and Ransom's wife was all that a working man
could desire. There can be no thrift, nor economy, nor comfort at home,
unless the wife helps;--and a working man's wife, more than any other
man's; for she is wife, Housekeeper, nurse, and servant, all in one. If
she be thriftless, putting money into her hands is like pouring water
through a sieve. Let her be frugal, and she will make her home a place
of comfort, and she will also make her husband's life happy,--if she do
not lay the foundation of his prosperity and fortune.
One would scarcely expect that for a penny a day it would be possible to
obtain anything valuable. And yet it may be easily shown how much a
penny a day, carefully expended, might do towards securing a man's
independence, and providing his wife and family against the future
pressure of poverty and want.
Take up a prospectus and tables of a Provident Society, intended for the
use of those classes who have a penny a day to spend,--that is, nearly
all the working classes of the country. It is not necessary to specify
any particular society, because the best all proceed upon the same
data,--the results of extensive observations and experience of health
and sickness;--and their tables of rates, certified by public actuaries,
are very nearly the same. Now, looking at the tables of these Life and
Sickness Assurance Societies, let us see what a penny a day can do.
1. For _a penny a day_, a man or woman of twenty-six years of age may
secure the sum of ten shillings a week payable during the time of
sickness, for the whole of life.
2. For _a penny a day_ (payments ceasing at sixty years of age), a man
or woman of thirty-one years of age may secure the sum of £50 payable at
death, whenever that event may happen, even though it should be during
the week or the month after the assurance has been effected.
3. For _a penny a day_, a young man or woman of fifteen may secure a sum
of £100, the payment of the penny a day continuing during the whole of
life, but the £100 being payable whenever death may occur.
4. For _a penny a day_, a young man or woman of twenty may secure an
annuity of £26 per annum, or of 10_s_. per week for the whole of life,
after reaching the age of sixty-five.
5. For _a penny a day_,--the payment commencing from the birth of any
child,--a parent may secure the sum of £20, payable on such child
reaching the age of fourteen years.
6. For _a penny a day_, continued until the child readies the age of
twenty-one years, the sum of £45 may be secured, to enable him or her to
begin business, or start housekeeping.
7. For _a penny a day_, a young man or woman of twenty-four may secure
the sum of £100, payable on reaching the age of sixty, with the right of
withdrawing four-fifths of the amount paid in, at any time; the whole of
the payments being paid back in event of death occurring before the age
of sixty.
Such is the power of _a penny a day!_ Who would have thought it? Yet it
is true, as any one can prove by looking at the tables of the best
assurance offices. Put the penny a day in the bank, and it accumulates
slowly. Even there, however, it is very useful. But with the assurance
office it immediately assumes a vast power. A penny a day paid in by the
man of thirty-one, is worth £60 to his wife and family, in the event of
his dying next month or next year! It is the combining of small savings
for purposes of mutual assurance, by a large number of persons, that
gives to the penny its enormous power.
The effecting of a life assurance by a working man, for the benefit of
his wife and children, is an eminently unselfish act. It is a moral as
well as a religious transaction. It is "providing for those of his own
household." It is taking the right step towards securing the
independence of his family, after he, the bread-winner, has been called
away. This right investment of _the pennies_ is the best proof of
practical virtue, and of the honest forethought and integrity of a true
man.
The late Joseph Baxendale was the constant friend of the working people
who co-operated with him in the labours of his life. He was a man of
strong common sense, and might have been styled the Franklin of
Business. He was full of proverbial wisdom, and also full of practical
help. He was constantly urging his servants to lay by something for a
rainy day, or for their support in old age. He also used to pension off
his old servants after they had ceased to be able to work.
He posted up Texts along his warehouses, so that those who ran might
read. "Never despair," "Nothing without labour," "He who spends all he
gets, is on the way to beggary," "Time lost cannot be regained," "Let
industry, temperance, and economy be the habits of your lives." These
texts were printed in large type, so that every passer-by might read
them; while many were able to lay them to heart, and to practise the
advices which they enjoined.
On other occasions Mr. Baxendale would distribute amongst his
workpeople, or desire to be set up in his warehouses and places of
business, longer and more general maxims. He would desire these printed
documents to be put up in the offices of the clerks, or in places where
men are disposed to linger, or to take their meals, or to assemble
preparatory to work. They were always full of valuable advice. We copy
one of them, on the Importance of Punctuality:--
"Method is the hinge of business; and there is no method without
Punctuality. Punctuality is important, because it subserves the Peace
and Good Temper of a family. The want of it not only infringes on
necessary Duty, but sometimes excludes this duty. The calmness of mind
which it produces is another advantage of Punctuality. A disorderly man
is always in a hurry. He has no time to speak to you, because he is
going elsewhere; and when he gets there, he is too late for his
business, or he must hurry away to another before he can finish it.
Punctuality gives weight to character. 'Such a man has made an
appointment; then I know he will keep it.' And this generates
Punctuality in you; for, like other virtues, it propagates itself.
Servants and children must be punctual, when their Leader is so.
Appointments, indeed, become debts. I owe you Punctuality, if I have
made an appointment with you, and have no right to throw away your time,
if I do my own."
Some may inquire, "Who was Joseph Baxendale?" He was, in fact, Pickford
and Co., the name of a firm known all over England, as well as
throughout the Continent. Mr. Baxendale was the son of a physician at
Lancaster. He received a good education, went into the cotton trade, and
came up to London to represent the firm with which he was connected. A
period of commercial pressure having occurred, he desired to leave the
cotton trade and to enter upon some other business. Mr. Pickford had
already begun the business of a Carrier, but he was hampered by want of
money. Mr. Baxendale helped him with capital, and for a time remained a
sleeping partner; but finding that the business made no progress,
principally for want of management, he eventually determined to take the
active part in working and managing the concern.
He threw his whole energies into the firm of Pickford and Co. He
reorganized the agencies, and extended them throughout the kingdom. He
put flying vans upon the road, equal to our express trains; and slow
vans, equal to our goods trains. He utilized the canals to a large
extent, putting on flying boats between all the larger towns. Indeed the
roads of the country were then so bad, that in certain seasons it was
almost impossible to convey merchandize from one part of the country to
another.
The carrying on of such an important and extensive business required
much capital, great energy, and first-rate business management. The
horses necessary to carry on the traffic were increased from about
fifty, which they were in the time of Pickford, to more than a thousand;
for relays of horses were necessary at all the stopping-places on the
line of traffic, between London and Manchester, between London and
Exeter, and between London and Edinburgh. A ship-building yard was
established, where all the boats, flying and slow, required to carry on
the business, were constructed at Mr. Baxendale's expense.
The carrying business required a great deal of personal supervision.
Only a man of determined spirit and indomitable energy could have done
it. He had a flying boat in which he rapidly passed along the canals,
seeing that the men were at their posts, that the agents were at work,
and the traffic duly provided for. He did this by night as well as by
day. At other times, he would fly along the roads in his special
travelling carriage,--always paying the highest prices to the
innkeepers, in order that he might secure the best horses, and avoid
delay and loss of time. He would overtake his vans, and see that his men
were sober, and that they were well forward at the stations along the
road; that their blunderbusses were loaded (for highway robbery was then
one of the risks of travelling by road), that the agents were doing
their duty, and that everything was in proper order.
Besides overtaking the vans, he would sometimes travel by a by-road--for
he knew nearly every road in the country--push on, and then double back
upon his drivers, who never knew whether he was before or behind them;
and thus general vigilance became the rule of all. By these and various
other means the business of the concern was admirably done, and the
carrying trade of the country was brought to as high a state of
perfection as was compatible with the then state of the roads and
canals.
When all this had been accomplished, the disturbing influence of
railways began. "I see mischief in these confounded iron roads," said
the Duke of Bridgewater. But the time for railways had arrived, and they
could not be postponed. The first railroads were used for the conveyance
of coals from the pits to the seaside, where they were shipped for
London. Then it was proposed that they should be laid for the conveyance
of goods from town to town; and the largest traffic being in Lancashire,
one of the first railways was constructed between Liverpool and
Manchester, from which towns they were afterwards constructed in all
directions throughout the country.
Had Mr. Baxendale resisted the new means of conveyance, he would, before
long, have been driven off the road. But he clearly foresaw the ultimate
triumph of the railway system; and he went with it, instead of against
it. He relieved the Liverpool and Manchester Company of a great deal of
trouble, by undertaking to manage their goods' traffic and by collecting
and delivering it at both towns. Then, when the railways from Warrington
to Birmingham and from Birmingham to London were projected, he gave
evidence before the committees of Parliament, in proof of the estimated
traffic. And when the lines were made, he transferred the goods from his
carrying vans to the railway. He thus became a great railway carrier,
collecting and delivering goods in all the cities and towns served by
the railways which had by that time become established.
He also became a large shareholder in railways. His status in the
South-Eastern line was so great, that he was invited to become chairman
of the company. He was instrumental, in conjunction with the late Sir
William Cubitt, in pushing on the line to Dover. But the Dover Harbour
Board being found too stingy in giving accommodation to the traffic, and
too grasping in their charges for harbour dues, Mr. Baxendale at once
proceeded, on his own responsibility, to purchase Folkestone Harbour as
the port of the South-Eastern Company. He next proceeded to get up the
Boulogne and Amiens Railway, which was for the most part constructed
with English capital; and the direct line from London to Paris was thus
completed.
His arduous labours in connection with his own business, as well as with
railway extension, having thrown him into ill-health, he went abroad for
repose. While absent, a faction was got up in Liverpool for the purpose
of appointing another chairman in his stead; and though he was unseated
by a trick, he himself accepted his dismissal with pleasure. His sons
were now able to help him in the conduct of his business, though he
continued to the close of his life to take an interest in everything
that was going on. He was never weary of well-doing; he never rested in
giving his good advice, the results of his large experience, to the
assistants, clerks, and working men employed in his various offices. We
conclude our brief notice of his life by giving another of his
"Run-and-Read Sermons," which he distributed plentifully among his
_employés_, and had affixed in various portions of his warehouses. It
was entitled "Good Maxims and Advice."
"An old servant of the concern observed, a short time ago, that he began
life in the employ of Pickford, upon low wages, and that by frugality
and industry he had gained a competency. His maxim was, never to spend
more than ninepence out of every shilling. Although this may appear a
trifle, recollect that it is five shillings in twenty, ten pounds in
forty.
"Suppose a young man to pursue this system: Let him obtain the first
twenty pounds, add each year ten pounds, he will at the end of six years
be possessed of upwards of one hundred pounds. If in early life the
opportunity is suffered to pass, it rarely happens that one can save
money when more advanced in years.
"The concern in which we are engaged has been defrauded by those who
have for thirty years received salaries, the savings from which, had
they followed the plan that is recommended, would have placed them in
situations of comparative affluence; and we should now have seen them
respectable members of society.
"Upon industry and frugality our well-doing depends. It is not great
talents, but steady application, that is required. There are none of us
that may not obtain stations of respectability. 'God helps them that
help themselves.' 'He that follows pleasure instead of business will
shortly have no business to follow.'
"I frequently complain of what may be called trifles, but from these
arising frequently, we are at length lost. Let each attend to his
respective duties; keep the appointed hours; and never defer till
to-morrow what may be done to-day.
"If business is more pressing than usual, give additional time, that
your own accounts may not fall into confusion, and that you may not be
the means of causing delay and trouble to others. It often happens that
the negligence of individuals throws additional labour upon those who
are anxious for regularity.
"Hiding or screening the faults or errors of others, is a system that
has prevailed and caused much loss and injury,--frequently to the
offending party, always to the employer.
"Late occurrences lead me to draw your attention to this subject: it is
important in every sense, both as regards your public and private
stations. There is nothing more worthy of a man than truth: nothing
makes him feel himself so despicable as a lie. Recollect that men act
lies without speaking them, and that all false appearances are lies.
"He, therefore, who, seeing his employer injured, neglects to make it
known, is equally guilty--with this addition, that he is practising a
lie. Want of punctuality is a lie.
"Speak and act openly on all occasions. Errors will be fewer, and labour
will be decreased.
"It seldom happens that we can do any important services, but small
services are always in use. Take, therefore, every opportunity of
assisting each other,--you are then most effectually serving your
employers, as well as keeping up a spirit of cordiality and goodwill
amongst yourselves.
"A good Christian must be a good servant. Whatever your lot in life may
be above all things remember that 'The fear of God is the beginning of
wisdom.'"