IN BUSINESS FOR MYSELF.
MY CLERKSHIP IN BROOKLYN--UNEASINESS AND DISSATISFACTION--THE SMALL
POX--GOING HOME TO RECRUIT--“CHAIRY” HALLETT AGAIN--BACK TO
BROOKLYN--OPENING A PORTER-HOUSE--SELLING OUT--MY CLERKSHIP IN NEW
YORK--MY HABITS--OBSERVANCE OF SUNDAY--IN BETHEL ONCE
MORE--BEGINNING BUSINESS ON MY OWN ACCOUNT--OPENING DAY--LARGE
SALES AND GREAT PROFITS--THE LOTTERY BUSINESS--VIEWS THEREON--ABOUT
A POCKET-BOOK--WITS AND WAGS--SWEARING OUT A FINE--FIRST APPEARANCE
AT THE BAR--SECURING “ARABIAN”--A MODEL LOVE-LETTER.
Mr. Oliver Taylor removed from Danbury to Brooklyn, Long Island, where
he kept a grocery store and also had a large comb factory and a comb
store in New York. In the fall of 1826 he offered me a situation as
clerk in his Brooklyn store, and I accepted it. I soon became conversant
with the routine of my employer’s business and before long he entrusted
to me the purchasing of all goods for his store. I bought for cash
entirely, going into the lower part of New York City in search of the
cheapest market for groceries, often attending auctions of teas, sugars,
molasses, etc., watching the sales, noting prices and buyers, and
frequently combining with other grocers to bid off large lots, which we
subsequently divided, giving each of us the quantity wanted at a lower
rate than if the goods had passed into other hands, compelling us to pay
another profit.
Situated as I was, and well treated as I was by my employer, who
manifested great interest in me, still I was dissatisfied. A salary was
not sufficient for me. My disposition was of that speculative character
which refused to be satisfied unless I was engaged in some business
where my profits might be enhanced, or, at least, made to depend upon my
energy, perseverance, attention to business, tact, and “calculation.”
Accordingly, as I had no opportunity to speculate on my own account, I
became uneasy, and, young as I was, I began to talk of setting up for
myself; for, although I had no capital, several men of means had offered
to furnish the money and join me in business. I was in that uneasy,
transitory state between boyhood and manhood when I had unbounded
confidence in my own abilities, and yet needed a discreet counsellor,
adviser and friend.
In the following summer, 1827, I was taken down with the small-pox and
was confined to the house for several months. This sickness made a sad
inroad upon my means. When I was sufficiently recovered, I started for
home to recruit, taking passage on board a sloop for Norwalk, but the
remaining passengers were so frightened at the appearance of my face,
which still bore the marks of the disease, that I was obliged to go
ashore again, which I did, stopping at Holt’s, in Fulton Street, going
to Norwalk by steamboat next morning, and arriving at Bethel in the
afternoon.
During my convalescence at my mother’s house, I visited my old friends
and neighbors and had the opportunity to slightly renew my acquaintance
with the attractive tailoress, “Chairy” Hallett. A month afterwards, I
returned to Brooklyn, where I gave Mr. Taylor notice of my desire to
leave his employment; and I then opened a porter-house on my own
account. In a few months I sold out to good advantage and accepted a
favorable offer to engage as clerk in a similar establishment, kept by
Mr. David Thorp, 29 Peck Slip, New York. It was a great resort for
Danbury and Bethel comb makers and hatters and I thus had frequent
opportunities of seeing and hearing from my fellow-townsmen. I lived in
Mr. Thorp’s family and was kindly treated. I was often permitted to
visit the theatre with friends who came to New York, and, as I had
considerable taste for the drama, I soon became, in my own opinion, a
discriminating critic--nor did I fail to exhibit my powers to my
Connecticut friends who accompanied me to the play. Let me gratefully
add that my habits were not bad. Though I sold liquors to others, I do
not think I ever drank a pint of liquor, wine, or cordials before I was
twenty-two years of age. I always had a Bible, which I frequently read,
and I attended church regularly. These habits, so far as they go, are in
the right direction, and I am thankful to-day that they characterized my
early youth. However worthy or unworthy may have been my later years, I
_know_ that I owe much of the better part of my nature to my youthful
regard for Sunday and its institutions--a regard, I trust, still strong
in my character.
In February, 1828, I returned to Bethel and opened a retail fruit and
confectionery store in a part of my grandfather’s carriage-house, which
was situated on the main street, and which was offered to me rent free
if I would return to my native village and establish some sort of
business. This beginning of business on my own account was an eventful
era in my life. My total capital was one hundred and twenty dollars,
fifty of which I had expended in fitting up the store, and the remaining
seventy dollars purchased my stock in trade. I had arranged with fruit
dealers whom I knew in New York, to receive my orders, and I decided to
open my establishment on the first Monday in May--our “general
training” day.
It was a “red letter” day for me. The village was crowded with people
from the surrounding region and the novelty of my little shop attracted
attention. Long before noon I was obliged to call in one of my old
schoolmates to assist in waiting upon my numerous customers and when I
closed at night I had the satisfaction of reckoning up sixty-three
dollars as my day’s receipts. Nor, although I had received the entire
cost of my goods, less seven dollars, did the stock seem seriously
diminished; showing that my profits had been large. I need not say how
much gratified I was with the result of this first day’s experiment. The
store was a fixed fact. I went to New York and expended all my money in
a stock of fancy goods, such as pocket-books, combs, beads, rings,
pocket-knives, and a few toys. These, with fruit, nuts, etc., made the
business good through the summer, and in the fall I added stewed oysters
to the inducements.
My grandfather, who was much interested in my success, advised me to
take an agency for the sale of lottery tickets, on commission. In those
days, the lottery was not deemed objectionable on the score of morality.
Very worthy people invested in such schemes without a thought of evil,
and then, as now, churches even got up lotteries, with this
difference--that then they were called lotteries, and now they go under
some other name. While I am very glad that an improved public sentiment
denounces the lottery in general as an illegitimate means of getting
money, and while I do not see how any one, especially in or near a New
England State, can engage in a lottery without feeling a reproach which
no pecuniary return can compensate; yet I cannot now accuse myself for
having been lured into a business which was then sanctioned by good
Christian people, who now join with me in reprobating enterprises they
once encouraged. But as public sentiment was forty years ago, I obtained
an agency to sell lottery tickets on a commission of ten per cent, and
this business, in connection with my little store, made my profits quite
satisfactory.
I used to have some curious customers. On one occasion a young man
called on me and selected a pocket-book which pleased him, asking me to
give him credit for a few weeks. I told him that if he wanted any
article of necessity in my line, I should not object to trust him for a
short time, but it struck me that a pocket-book was a decided
superfluity for a man who had no money; I therefore declined to trust
him as I did not see the necessity for his possessing such an article
till he had something to put into it. Later in life I have been credited
with the utterance of some sagacious remarks, but this with regard to
the pocket-book, trivial as the matter is in itself, seems to me quite
as deserving of note as any of my ideas which have created more
sensation.
My store had much to do in giving shape to my future character as well
as career, in that it became a favorite resort; the theatre of village
talk, and the scene of many practical jokes. For any excess of the
jocose element in my character, part of the blame must attach to my
early surroundings as a village clerk and merchant. In that true resort
of village wits and wags, the country store, fun, pure and simple, will
be sure to find the surface. My Bethel store was the scene of many most
amusing incidents, in some of which I was an immediate participant,
though in many, of course, I was only a listener or spectator.
The following scene makes a chapter in the history of Connecticut, as
the State was when “blue-laws” were something more than a dead letter.
To swear in those days was according to custom, but contrary to law. A
person from New York State, whom I will call Crofut, who was a frequent
visitor at my store, was a man of property, and equally noted for his
self-will and his really terrible profanity. One day he was in my little
establishment engaged in conversation, when Nathan Seelye, Esq., one of
our village justices of the peace, and a man of strict religious
principles, came in, and hearing Crofut’s profane language he told him
he considered it his duty to fine him one dollar for swearing.
Crofut responded immediately with an oath, that he did not care a d--n
for the Connecticut blue-laws.
“That will make two dollars,” said Mr. Seelye.
This brought forth another oath.
“Three dollars,” said the sturdy justice.
Nothing but oaths were given in reply, until Esquire Seelye declared the
damage to the Connecticut laws to amount to fifteen dollars.
Crofut took out a twenty-dollar bill, and handed it to the justice of
the peace, with an oath.
“Sixteen dollars,” said Mr. Seelye, counting out four dollars to hand to
Mr. Crofut, as his change.
“Oh, keep it, keep it,” said Crofut, “I don’t want any change, I’ll d--d
soon swear out the balance.” He did so, after which he was more
circumspect in his conversation, remarking that twenty dollars a day
for swearing was about as much as he could stand.
On another occasion, a man arrested for assault and battery was to be
tried before my grandfather; who was a justice of the peace. A young
medical student named Newton, volunteered to defend the prisoner, and
Mr. Couch, the grand-juryman, came to me and said that as the prisoner
had engaged a pettifogger, the State ought to have some one to represent
its interests and he would give me a dollar to present the case. I
accepted the fee and proposition. The fame of the “eminent counsel” on
both sides drew quite a crowd to hear the case. As for the case itself,
it was useless to argue it, for the guilt of the prisoner was
established by evidence of half a dozen witnesses. However, Newton was
bound to display himself, and so, rising with much dignity, he addressed
my grandfather with, “May it please the honorable court,” etc.,
proceeding with a mixture of poetry and invective against Couch, the
grand-juryman whom he assumed to be the vindictive plaintiff in this
case. After alluding to him as such for the twentieth time, my
grandfather stopped Newton in the midst of his splendid peroration and
informed him that Mr. Couch was not the plaintiff in the case.
“Not the plaintiff! Then may it please your honor I should like to know
who is the plaintiff?” inquired Newton.
He was quietly informed that the State of Connecticut was the plaintiff,
whereupon Newton dropped into his seat as if he had been shot.
Thereupon, I rose with great confidence, and speaking from my notes,
proceeded to show the guilt of the prisoner from the evidence; that
there was no discrepancy in the testimony; that none of the witnesses
had been impeached; that no defence had been offered; that I was
astonished at the audacity of both counsel and prisoner in not pleading
guilty at once; and then, soaring aloft on general principles, I began
to look about for a safe place to alight, when my grandfather
interrupted me with--
“Young man, will you have the kindness to inform the court which side
you are pleading for--the plaintiff or the defendant?”
It was my turn to drop, which I did amid a shout of laughter from every
corner of the court-room. Newton, who had been very downcast, looked up
with a broad grin and the two “eminent counsel” sneaked out of the room
in company, while the prisoner was bound over to the next County Court
for trial.
While my business in Bethel continued to increase beyond my
expectations, I was also happy in believing that my suit with the fair
tailoress, Charity Hallett, was duly progressing. Of all the young
people with whom I associated in our parties, picnics, and sleigh-rides,
she stood highest in my estimation and continued to improve upon
acquaintance.
How I managed at one of our sleigh rides is worth narrating. My
grandfather would, at any time, let me have a horse and sleigh, always
excepting his new sleigh, the finest in the village, and a favorite
horse called “Arabian.” I especially coveted this turnout for one of our
parties, knowing that I could eclipse all my comrades, and so I asked
grandfather if I could have “Arabian” and the new sleigh.
“Yes, if you have twenty dollars in your pocket,” was the reply.
I immediately showed the money, and, putting it back in my pocket, said
with a laugh: “you see I have the money. I am much obliged to you; I
suppose I can have ‘Arab’ and the new sleigh?”
Of course, he meant to deny me by making what he thought to be an
impossible condition, to wit: that I should hire the team, at a good
round price, if I had it at all, but I had caught him so suddenly that
he was compelled to consent, and “Chairy” and I had the crack team of
the party.
There was a young apprentice to the tailoring trade in Bethel, whom I
will call John Mallett, whose education had been much neglected, and who
had been paying his addresses to a certain “Lucretia” for some six
months, with a strong probability of being jilted at last. On a Sunday
evening she had declined to take his arm, accepting instead the arm of
the next man who offered, and Mallett determined to demand an
explanation. He accordingly came to me the Saturday evening following,
asking me, when I had closed my store, to write a strong and
remonstratory “love-letter” for him. I asked Bill Shepard, who was
present, to remain and assist, and, in due time, the joint efforts of
Shepard, Mallett, and myself resulted in the following production. I
give the letter as an illustrative chapter in real life. In novels such
correspondence is usually presented in elaborate rhetoric, with studied
elegance of phrase. But the true language of the heart is always nearly
the same in all time and in all tongues, and when the blood is up the
writer is far more intent upon the matter than the manner, and aims to
be forcible rather than elegant. The subjoined letter is certainly not
after the manner of Chesterfield, but it is such a letter as a
disappointed lover, spurred by
The green-eyed monster, which doth mock
The meat it feeds on,
frequently indites. With a demand from Mallett that we should begin in
strong terms, and Shepard acting as scribe, we concocted the following:
BETHEL, ----, 18--.
MISS LUCRETIA,--I write this to ask an explanation of your conduct
in giving me the mitten on Sunday night last. If you think, madam,
that you can trifle with my affections, and turn me off for every
little whipper-snapper that you can pick up, you will find yourself
considerably mistaken. [We read thus far to Mallett, and it met his
approval. He said he liked the idea of calling her “madam,” for he
thought it sounded so “distant,” it would hurt her feelings very
much. The term “little whipper-snapper” also delighted him. He said
he guessed that would make her feel cheap. Shepard and myself were
not quite so sure of its aptitude, since the chap who succeeded in
capturing Lucretia, on the occasion alluded to, was a head and
shoulders taller than Mallett. However, we did not intimate our
thoughts to Mallett, and he desired us to “go ahead and give her
another dose.”] You don’t know me, madam, if you think you can snap
me up in this way. I wish you to understand that I can have the
company of girls as much above you as the sun is above the earth,
and I won’t stand any of your impudent nonsense no how. [This was
duly read and approved. “Now,” said Mallett, “try to touch her
feelings. Remind her of the pleasant hours we have spent together”;
and we continued as follows:] My dear Lucretia, when I think of the
many pleasant hours we have spent together--of the delightful walks
which we have had on moonlight evenings to Fenner’s Rocks, Chestnut
Ridge, Grassy Plains, Wildcat, and Puppy-town--of the strolls which
we have taken upon Shelter Rocks, Cedar Hill--the visits we have
made to Old Lane, Wolfpits, Toad-hole and Plum-trees[A]--when all
these things come rushing on my mind, and when, my dear girl, I
remember how often you have told me that you loved me better than
anybody else, and I assured you my feelings were the same as yours,
it almost breaks my heart to think of last Sunday night. [“Can’t
you stick in some affecting poetry here?” said Mallett. Shepard
could not recollect any to the point, nor could I, but as the
exigency of the case seemed to require it, we concluded to
manufacture a verse or two, which we did as follows:]
Lucretia, dear, what have I done,
That you should use me thus and so,
To take the arm of Tom Beers’ son,
And let your dearest true-love go?
Miserable fate, to lose you now,
And tear this bleeding heart asunder!
Will you forget your tender vow?
I can’t believe it--no, by thunder!
[Mallett did not like the word “thunder,” but being informed that
no other word could be substituted without destroying both rhyme
and reason, he consented that it should remain, provided we added
two more stanzas of a _softer_ nature; something, he said, that
would make the tears come, if possible. We then ground out the
following:]
Lucretia, dear, do write to Jack,
And say with Beers you are not smitten;
And thus to me in love come back,
And give all other boys the mitten.
Do this, Lucretia, and till death
I’ll love you to intense distraction;
I’ll spend for you my every breath,
And we will live in satisfaction.
[A] These were the euphonious names of localities in the vicinity of
Bethel.
[“That will do very well,” said Mallett. “Now I guess you had
better blow her up a little more.” We obeyed orders as follows:] It
makes me mad to think what a fool I was to give you that
finger-ring and bosom-pin, and spend so much time in your company,
just to be flirted and bamboozled as I was on Sunday night last. If
you continue this course of conduct, we part for ever, and I will
thank you to send back that jewelry. I would sooner see it crushed
under my feet than worn by a person who abused me as you have done.
I shall despise you for ever if you don’t change your conduct
towards me, and send me a letter of apology on Monday next. I shall
not go to meeting to-morrow, for I would scorn to sit in the same
meeting-house with you until I have an explanation of your conduct.
If you allow any young man to go home with you to-morrow night, I
shall know it, for you will be watched. [“There,” said Mallett,
“that is pretty strong. Now I guess you had better touch her
feelings once more, and wind up the letter.” We proceeded as
follows:] My sweet girl, if you only knew the sleepless nights
which I have spent during the present week, the torments and
sufferings which I endure on your account; if you could but realize
that I regard the world as less than nothing without you, I am
certain you would pity me. A homely cot and a crust of bread with
my adorable Lucretia would be a paradise, where a palace without
you would be a hades. [“What in thunder is hades?” inquired Jack.
We explained. He considered the figure rather bold, and requested
us to close as soon as possible.] Now, dearest, in bidding you
adieu, I implore you to reflect on our past enjoyments, look
forward with pleasure to our future happy meetings, and rely upon
your affectionate Jack in storm or calm, in sickness, distress, or
want, for all these will be powerless to change my love. I hope to
hear from you on Monday next, and, if favorable, I shall be happy
to call on you the same evening, when in ecstatic joy we will laugh
at the past, hope for the future, and draw consolation from the
fact that “the course of true love never did run smooth.” This from
your disconsolate but still hoping lover and admirer,
JACK MALLETT,
P. S.--On reflection I have concluded to go to meeting to-morrow.
If all is well, hold your pocket-handkerchief in your left hand as
you stand up to sing with the choir--in which case I shall expect
the pleasure of giving you my arm to-morrow night.
J. M.
The effect of this letter upon Lucretia, I regret to say, was not as
favorable as could have been desired or expected. She declined to remove
her handkerchief from her right hand and she returned the “ring and
bosom-pin” to her disconsolate admirer, while, not many months after,
Mallett’s rival led Lucretia to the altar. As for Mallett’s agreement to
pay Shepard and myself five pounds of carpet rags and twelve yards of
broadcloth “lists,” for our services, owing to his ill success, we
compromised for one-half the amount.