RELIEF.
There _are_ hearts among the rich and powerful—and would to God they
were more numerous—whose pulses flow in kindly sympathy for the
distresses of their fellow-creatures, and whose wealth ever ministers to
the necessities of the children of sorrow. Such have their reward, more
glorious than the laurels which deck the conqueror’s brow—the
blessings, prayers, and outpourings of the grateful spirit.
To the extent of their means, Mr. Merritt and his family had always
aided the poor and needy; and they were not now deserted in their
affliction.
Every nerve had been strained to avert the threatening storm; but all in
vain. Stricken and depressed, the mechanic sunk down in despair. Not a
ray of hope pierced the blackness of the future. His all would not pay
the execution and costs of sale, and there followed, for himself, a
prison—for his family, starvation. Wise counsellors had been consulted,
and they decided that there was no proof of fraud which could invalidate
the claim. No law could set it aside. The bank attorney already saw his
victim wasting in the cold cell of a debtor’s jail and exulted in his
heart.
But as the darkest hour is that which ushers in the dawn, so, in this
hour of trial, when the clouds lowered thick and heavily—a friendly
helper came. One, who had been rescued years before, by Mr. Merritt’s
own bounty, from poverty and degradation, and by his aid had commenced a
career which secured him fortune and prosperity, heard of the troubles
of his benefactor, and hastened to his relief. With the delicacy of true
benevolence, this gentleman set about his excellent mission, in a way to
be of effectual benefit to Mr. Merritt, while it relieved him of the
oppressive sense of obligation, which is often made to accompany good
deeds, but which more surely crushes the proud spirit than would the
miseries they seek to alleviate.
From this gentleman the mechanic received the following letter by post:
“_G——, March 10, 183-._
“Mr. Merritt,—Dear Sir,—I have had it some time in view to
purchase property in your village, whenever a favorable
opportunity should occur. I learn by the newspapers, that your
real estate will soon be sold on execution, and it being the
most desirable situation with which I am acquainted, I am
anxious to buy it. As it will be out of my power to attend the
sale, (if you have not made other arrangements,) please write me
by return mail, what will be the sum of execution and costs, and
if not more than the fair value of the property, I will advance
the amount, and close the bargain at once.
“Your obedient servant,
“G—— S——.”
The early and important services which he had rendered to the writer of
this letter were dismissed from the memory of Mr. Merritt, with the
ordinary events of the time at which they were conferred. The latter
had, not long after, removed to another town, and they had not met
since.
The letter was a business-like document, as we have seen—containing no
allusions to the past—breathing no professions of gratitude—proffering
no gifts of charity; yet it exerted a happier influence in cheering the
mechanic, than though every line had been teeming with protestations of
pity and regard. It came like a messenger of life, and bade him hope.
First, he read it silently—then aloud—then to his wife—then Emma and
George participated in the joyous news; and the infant, receiving an
unusual number of kisses, no doubt understood it too.
An answer was forwarded by the ensuing mail, setting forth the
circumstances of the case—the amount required to free the estate from
incumbrance—and further, stating that this was five hundred dollars
less than the assessed valuation of the property at the annual
appraisement—that he considered it worth one thousand dollars more than
that appraisement; but, in consequence of the forced sale, he expected
to lose that much, or more; and therefore, as he was obliged to sell,
would be glad to have him take the property and redeem the execution.
After this was dispatched, their fears regained the ascendency. They had
been, perhaps, too sanguine, the price might be considered too high—and
all was anxiety, perplexity and dread, until the close of a week, when
there came the following reply:
“_G——, April 2, 183-._
“Mr. Merritt—Dear Sir,—Your favor, in answer to inquiries
contained in my letter of 10th ult., came duly to hand. I think
the property sufficiently reasonable at your valuation, and have
no wish to take advantage of your pecuniary embarrassments to
obtain a reduction of price. Therefore, if you please, you will
consider me the purchaser. The enclosed check for eleven
thousand dollars will release the estate from the execution, and
the remainder I will pay as soon as the necessary titles are
perfected. I have appointed Mr. —— my agent in the matter, who
will attend to their arrangement.
“Your obedient servant,
“G—— S——.”
When Mr. Merritt took this last letter from the post-office, he
determined to take it home and open it there. But his anxiety proved too
great, and the seal was broken. The check came first in sight, and he
panted for breath. He read on, quickening his pace more and more, until
he arrived at home, almost on a full run.
“Thank God! we are free!” he exclaimed. “Wife, read this.”
She did read it to the end. The day had dawned, and the bright sun of
hope shone once more. What a happy family was Mr. Merritt’s! Free from
debt! They did not forget, in the fullness of their joy, to assemble
around the family altar, and pour forth fervent thanksgiving to the Hand
which had supported them through tribulation, and had brought them
succor when there was none to help.
On the next morning, to the utter dismay of the bank attorney, Mr.
Merritt walked into his office, and demanded the execution, at the same
time presenting the money.
Choking with rage and surprise, the attorney gazed first at the money,
and thence at the mechanic, and proceeded to an iron closet, which he
opened, and brought out the notes. Mr. Merritt paid them every one, and
with an air of mingled triumph and scorn, bade Esquire Rock a good
morning, and left the office. That gentleman’s wrath broke out afresh
when he was again alone, and he occasionally muttered aloud, “The
scoundrel! I could have killed him!” and no doubt he spoke truly.