An honest old gentleman, in telling us his troubles, gave great
prominence to the necessity he was frequently under of disappointing
his customers, whose work could not be finished as soon as he had
promised. After explaining the difficulty, he looked up with great
earnestness, and exclaimed, “_O dear! shall we ever be done with this
lying?_”
We have often wondered ourselves whether such a consummation would
ever take place. “Your boots shall be done on Saturday night without
fail.” Nevertheless, you have to go to church with gaping shoes for
want of them. “Your coat shall be sent home by nine o’clock on
Saturday night;” and you get it, in fact, the Wednesday after. “Will
you lend me your wheel-barrow? I will return it to-night.” You wait
for it till next week, and then _send_ for it. My carpenter solemnly
agreed to finish my house by November; but it was July before I could
get the key. My wood was to be split on Saturday afternoon—enough for
the Sabbath; so it was—but I had to do it. My money was to be paid me
the next week; and then, _next_ week; and then, NEXT week—and _then_,
as soon as he could get it; he did get it and spent it; and then it
should be paid when he got it again—he got it again, and paid another
debt because the man treated him more savagely than I would. The
strength laid out in running for this money, if it had been
economically applied to labor, would, nearly, have _earned_ the whole
debt. The fellow never paid me at last; but Death came along, and he
paid him promptly. “O dear! shall we ever get done with this lying?”
It is one of the few domestic manufactures which need no protection,
and flourishes without benefit either to the producer or consumer.