day before, had been placed a new painting, recently imported by his
friend the picture-dealer. It was exquisite as a work of art, and the
biddings for it had been high. But he succeeded in securing it for the
sum of two thousand dollars. Before he was certain of getting this
picture, Mr. Alexander would linger before it, and study out its
beauties with a delighted appreciation. Nothing in his collection was
deemed comparable therewith. Strangely enough, after it was hung upon
the walls of his library, he did not stand before it for as long a space
as five minutes; and then his thoughts were not upon its beauties.
During the evening that followed, the mind of Mr. Alexander was less in
repose than usual. After having completed his purchase of the picture,
he had overheard two persons, who were considered good judges of art,
speaking of its defects, which were minutely indicated. They likewise
gave it as their opinion that the painting was not worth a thousand
dollars. This was throwing cold water on his enthusiasm. It seemed as
if a veil had suddenly been drawn from before his eyes. Now, with a
clearer vision, he could see faults, where before every defect was
thrown into shadow by an all-obscuring beauty.
On the next morning, as we have said, Mr. Alexander entered his library,
to take another look at his purchase. He did not feel very happy. Many
thousands of dollars had he spent in order to secure the means of
self-gratification; but the end was not yet gained.
A glance at the new picture sufficed, and then Mr. Alexander turned from
it with an involuntary sigh. Was it to look at other pictures? No. He
crossed his hands behind him, bent his eyes upon the floor, and, for the
period of half an hour, walked slowly backwards and forwards in his
library. There was a pressure on his feelings--he knew not why; a sense
of disappointment and dissatisfaction.
No purpose was in the mind of Mr. Alexander when he turned from his
library, and, drawing on his overcoat, passed forth to the street. It
was a bleak winter morning, and the muffled passengers hurried shivering
on their way.
[Illustration: "OH! I WISH I HAD A DOLLAR."]
"Oh! I wish I had a dollar."
These words, in the voice of a child, and spoken with impressive
earnestness, fell suddenly upon the ears of Mr. Alexander, as he moved
along the pavement. Something in the tone reached the old man's
feelings, and he partly turned himself to look at the speaker. She was a
little girl, not over eleven years of age, and in company with a lad
some year or two older. Both were coarsely clad.
"What would you do with a dollar, sis?" replied the boy.
"I'd buy brother William a pair of nice gloves, and a comforter, and a
pair of rubber shoes. That's what I'd do with it. He has to go away so
early, in the cold, every morning; and he's 'most perished, I know,
sometimes. Last night his feet were soaking with wet. His shoes are not
good; and mother says she hasn't money to buy him a new pair just now.
Oh, I wish I had a dollar!"
Instinctively Mr. Alexander's hand was in his pocket, and a moment
after, a round, bright silver dollar glittered in that of the girl.
But little farther did Mr. Alexander extend his walk. As if by magic,
the hue of his feelings had changed. The pressure on his heart was gone,
and its fuller pulses sent the blood bounding and frolicking along every
expanding artery. He thought not of pictures nor possessions. All else
was obscured by the bright face of the child, as she lifted to his her
innocent eyes, brimming with grateful tears.
One dollar spent unselfishly brought more real pleasure than thousands
parted with in the pursuit of merely selfish gratification. And the
pleasure did not fade with the hour, nor the day. That one truly
benevolent act, impulsive as it had been, touched a sealed spring of
enjoyment, and the waters that gushed instantly forth continued to flow
unceasingly.
Homeward the old man returned, and again he entered his library. Choice
works of art were all around him, purchased as a means of enjoyment.
They had cost thousands,--yet did not afford him a tithe of the pleasure
he had secured by the expenditure of a single dollar. He could turn from
them with a feeling of satiety; not so from the image of the happy child
whose earnestly expressed wish he had gratified.
And not alone on the pleasure of the child did the thoughts of Mr.
Alexander linger. There came before his imagination another picture. He
saw a poorly furnished room, in which were an humble, toiling widow, and
her children. It is keen and frosty without; and her eldest boy has just
come home from his work, shivering with cold. While he is warming
himself by the fire, his little sister presents him with the comforter,
the thick gloves, and the overshoes, which his benevolence had enabled
her to buy. What surprise and pleasure beam in the lad's face! How happy
looks the sister! How full of a subdued and thankful pleasure is the
mother's countenance!
And for weeks and months did Mr. Alexander gaze, at times, upon this
picture, and always with a warmth and lightness of heart unfelt when
other images arose in his mind and obscured it.
And for a single dollar was all this obtained, while thousands and
thousands were spent in the fruitless effort to buy happiness.
Strange as it may seem, Mr. Alexander did not profit by this
lesson--grew no wiser by this experience. The love of self was too
strong for him to seek the good of others--to bless both himself and his
fellows by a wise and generous use of the ample means which Providence
had given into his hands. He still buys pictures and works of art, but
the picture in his imagination, which cost but a single dollar, is
gazed at with a far purer and higher pleasure than he receives from his
entire gallery of paintings and statues.
If Mr. Alexander will not drink from the sweet spring of true delight
that has gushed forth at his feet, and in whose clear waters the sun of
heavenly love is mirrored, we hoped that others, wiser than he, will
bend to its overflowing brim, and take of its treasures freely. Some one
has beautifully said--"We only possess what we have bestowed." Something
of the meaning of this will be understood by such of our young readers
as have perused this story thoughtfully. Benevolent actions ever bring
their own reward. Far more happiness is gained in seeking to bless
others, than ever comes from efforts to secure merely our own good. God,
who is infinitely good and wise, and from whom comes all true happiness,
is ever seeking to bless others. If we would truly enjoy life, we must
be like Him.
MAN'S JUDGMENT.
"I wouldn't give much for his chance of heaven!" was the remark of a
man, whose coarse, well-worn garments contrasted strongly with the dark,
rich broadcloth of the person to whom he referred. In the tones of the
individual who uttered this sentence was a clearly apparent satisfaction
at the thought of his rich neighbour's doubtful chance of admission into
heaven. It was on the Sabbath, and both had just passed forth from the
sacred edifice, to which each had that morning gone up for the avowed
object of worship.
"Why do you say that?" asked the friend to whom the remark was
addressed.
"You know the Scriptures," was the confident answer. "'How hardly shall
they who have riches enter the kingdom of heaven.'"
"You believe, then, that the mere fact of possessing riches will keep a
man out of heaven?"
"No; I wouldn't just like to say that. But, riches harden the heart, and
make men unfit for heaven."
"I doubt if riches harden the heart more than poverty," was replied.
"How can you say so?" was warmly objected. "Isn't the promise everywhere
to the poor? To whom was the gospel sent?"
"The rich and poor spoken of in the word of God," said the friend, "do
not, it is plain, mean simply those in the world who possess natural
riches, or who are in natural poverty. Remember, that the Bible is a
revelation of heavenly truth, for man's eternal salvation; and that its
teachings must have primary regard to what is spiritual, and refer to
man's internal state rather than to his mere worldly condition.
Remember, that the Lord, while on earth, said, _Blessed are the poor in
spirit_, (not the poor in this world's goods,) _for theirs is the
kingdom of heaven_. And we may, without violence to even the letter of
the word, conclude that when He speaks of its being hard for the rich to
enter the kingdom of heaven, that only the proud in spirit, those who
rested self-confident on the riches of their worldly and natural wisdom,
were meant. That it would be easier for a camel to go through the eye of
a needle than for such rich men to enter heaven, is plain from our
Lord's words when he set a child in the midst of his disciples, and told
them that, unless they became as that little child, they could not enter
the kingdom of heaven. Not externally and naturally as that child, for
that was impossible; but poor in spirit, teachable, and innocent as a
child."
The first speaker, whose name was Maxwell, tossed his head, and slightly
curled his lip as he replied--
"I believe just what the Bible says. As for your forced meanings, I
never go to them. A plain matter-of-fact man, I understand what is
written in a plain, matter-of-fact way. The Bible says that they who
have riches shall hardly enter the kingdom of heaven. And I can see how
true the saying is. As for Clinton, of whom I spoke just now, I repeat
that I wouldn't give much for his chance. It is well that there is a
just God in heaven, and that there will come a day of retribution. The
Diveses have their good things in this life; but our turn will come
afterwards. We sha'n't be always poor. Lazarus went, a beggar, from the
rich man's door, and was received into Abraham's bosom."
"What has made you so bitter against Clinton, just now?" inquired the
friend.
"I'm not bitter against him in particular--I speak of rich men as a
class. They are all selfish, unfeeling, and oppressive. Look at the good
Clinton might do, as a steward of God's bounty, if he chose. He might
make our wilderness blossom as the rose. But settlement-day will come,
ere long, and then a sorry account of his stewardship will he have to
render."
"How do you know that the account will not be approved in heaven?" was
asked in a quiet voice.
"Approved? How do I know?" ejaculated Maxwell, impatiently. "Any man can
see that he is an unfaithful, hard-hearted, and oppressive steward."
"Has he oppressed you?"
"Yes."
"Ah! I was not aware of that. I didn't know that you had any claims upon
him as an almoner of heaven."
"My claims are those of common humanity. But you shall know all, and
judge for yourself. I am a poor man"----
"Well"----
"With a wife and four children, whom I love as tenderly as Clinton, or
any other purse-proud oppressor of the poor can possibly love his wife
and children. They are dependent for daily bread upon my daily labour.
With the sweat of my brow, I keep hunger from my door, and cold from
entering therein."
"An independent man," said the other.
"Yes, an independent man; as independent as any nabob in the land."
"Do let the nabobs alone," was smilingly answered to this. "If you are
independent, why care for them? Why permit yourself to be fretted
because others are blessed by Providence with a greater abundance of
worldly goods? There is danger, in this thing, of going beyond the
nabobs, and arraigning the wisdom of Him who setteth up whom he will,
and whose bounty feeds even the young ravens. So go on with your story.
What is the crime that Mr. Clinton has committed against you and
humanity?"
"I am a poor man, as I said."
"I know you are; a hard-working, industrious, but poor man."
"And as such, entitled to some consideration."
"Entitled to a fair return for your labour, in all cases."
"Of course I am; and to some favour, in the distribution of employment,
when I present equal capacity with those who are less needy than
myself."
"What do you mean by that?"
"A plain story makes all plain. Well: you are aware that Mr. Clinton is
about building a new dam for his mills?"
"I am."
"And that he asked for proposals?"
"Yes."
"I tried to get the contract."
"You!" There was more surprise in this ejaculation than the friend had
meant to convey.
"Certainly! Why not?" was petulantly remarked.
"Of course you had a perfect right to do so?"
"Of course I had; and of course my bid, though the lowest, was thrown
out, and the bid of Jackson, who manages to monopolize every thing in
the village, taken. He and Clinton are leagued together, and the offer
for proposals was only a sham."
"That's assuming a good deal, friend Maxwell."
"No, it isn't. It's the truth, and nothing else but the truth. He's the
jackal, and Clinton's the lion."
"You speak without reflection," said the friend, mildly.
"I'm not blind. I see how things are worked."
"You say your bid was lower than Jackson's? How do you know this? I
thought his bid was not publicly known."
"I knew it; and, in fact, knew what it was to be before I sent in my
proposals, and was, therefore, able to go below it. The truth is, I
managed, between you and I, to find out just what every man was going to
bid, and then struck a mark below them all, to make sure of the job. I
wanted a chance, and was determined to have it at all hazards."
"I hardly think your mode of procedure was fair," said the friend; "but
waiving that, could you have made any thing by the job, at your
bidding?"
"Oh, yes, I'd have made something--more, a good deal, than I can make by
day's work. The fact is, I set my heart on that job as a stepping stone
to contract work; and am bitterly disappointed at its loss. Much good
may it do both Jackson and Clinton. I shouldn't be much sorry to see the
new dam swept away by the next freshet."
"Why, Maxwell! This is not the spirit of a Christian man. Envy,
malice--these are what the Bible condemns in the plainest terms; and for
these sins, the poor have quite as much to answer for as the rich--and
perhaps more. If you go from church on the Sabbath with no better
thoughts than these, I fear you are quite as far from the Kingdom of
Heaven as you have supposed Mr. Clinton to be."
"Good day," said Maxwell, turning off abruptly from his friend, and
taking a path that led by a nearer course than the one in which they
were walking, to his home.
A few weeks later, the person with whom Maxwell thus conversed, had
occasion to transact some business with Mr. Clinton. He had rendered him
a bill for work done, and called to receive payment.
"You've made a mistake in your bill, Mr. Lee," said Clinton.
"Ah? Are you certain?"
"You can examine for yourself. I find an error of twenty dollars in the
additions."
"Then you only owe me sixty dollars?" said Lee, with a disappointment in
his tones that he could not conceal.
"Rather say that I owe you a hundred, for the mistake is in your favour.
The first column in the bill adds up fifty, instead of thirty dollars."
"Let me examine it." Lee took the bill, and added up the column three
times before he felt entirely satisfied. Then he said,
"So it does! Well, I should never have been the wiser if you had only
paid me the eighty dollars called for by the bill. You might have
retained your advantage with perfect safety."
Lee said this on the impulse of the moment. He instantly saw a change in
Mr. Clinton's countenance, as if he were slightly offended.
"Oh, no; not with safety," was gravely replied.
"I never should have found it out."
"But there is coming a day, with every man, when the secrets of his
heart will stand revealed. If not now, it would then appear that I had
wronged you out of twenty dollars."
"True! true! But all men don't think of this."
"No one is more fully aware of that than I am. It is for me, however, to
live in the present so as not to burden my future with shame and
repentance. Knowingly, Mr. Lee, I would not wrong any man out of a
single dollar. I may err, and do err, like other men; for, to err is
human."
After the expression of such sentiments, Lee felt curious to know what
Mr. Clinton thought of, and how he felt towards Maxwell. So he said,
after referring to the new mill-dam in the process of erection--
"You didn't take the lowest bid for its construction."
"I took the lowest competent bid."
"Then you do not think Maxwell competent to do the work?"
"I do not think him a man to be trusted, and, therefore, would not have
given him the contract for such a piece of work at any price. You are
aware that the giving way of that dam would almost inevitably involve a
serious loss of life and property among the poor people who live along
the course of the stream below. I must regard their safety before any
pecuniary advantage to myself; and have given Mr. Jackson, who has the
contract, positive instructions to exceed his estimates, if necessary,
in order to put the question of safety beyond a doubt. I know him to be
a man whom I can trust. But I have no confidence in Maxwell."
"A good reason why you declined giving him the job."
"I think so."
"Maxwell was greatly disappointed."
"I know he has spoken very hard against me. But that avails nothing. My
principle of action is to do right, and let others think and say what
they please. No man is my judge. Maxwell is not, probably, aware that I
know him thoroughly, and that I have thrown as much in his way as I
could safely do. He is not, of course, aware, that one of my sons
overheard him, in reference to this very mill-dam, say--'I'm bound to
have that contract whether or no. I have learned the lowest bid, and
have put in a bid still lower.' 'How did you learn this?' was asked of
him. 'No matter,' he answered, 'I have learned it.' 'You can't go lower
and build the dam safely,' was said. To which he replied--'I can build
the dam, and make a good profit. As to the safety, I'll leave that in
the hands of Providence. He'll take care of the poor people below.' Mr.
Lee! I felt an inward shudder when this was repeated to me. I could not
have believed the man so void of common honesty and common humanity. Was
I not right to withhold from him such a contract?"
"You would have been no better than Maxwell, if you had given it to
him," was answered. "And yet, this same man speaks against the rich, and
thinks their chance of heaven a poor one."
"Simply because they are rich."
"Or, it might with more truth be said, because they will not yield to
his covetous and envious spirit. He is not content with the equivalent
society renders back to him for the benefit he confers, but wants to
share what of right belongs to others."
"That spirit I have often seen him manifest," was replied. "Well, if
simple riches are a bar to man's entrance into heaven, how much more so
are discontent, envy, malice, hatred, and a selfish disregard for the
rights and well-being of others. The rich have their temptations, and so
have the poor, and neither will enter heaven, unless they overcome in
temptation, and receive a purified love of their neighbour. This at
least is my doctrine."
"Of the two, I would rather take Clinton's chance of heaven," said Lee
to himself, as he went musing away, "even if he is a rich man."
[Illustration: ANOTHER DEBT PAID.]
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.
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.