"Not a very costly one. Merely a scarf-pin, as you see. Small,
though brilliant. Always worth what I paid for it."
"Cost twenty-five or thirty dollars?"
"Twenty-five."
"Shall I put that down as one of the year expenses?"
"Yes, you may do so."
"What about stage and car hire? Do you ride or walk to and from
business?"
"I ride, of course. You wouldn't expect me to walk nearly a mile
four times a day."
"I never ride, except in bad weather. The walk gives me just the
exercise I need. Every man, who is confined in a store or
counting-room during business hours, should walk at least four miles
a day. Taken in installments of one mile at a time, at good
intervals, there is surely no hardship in this exercise. Four rides,
at six-pence a ride and we have another item of twenty-five cents at
day. You go down town nearly every evening?"
"Yes."
"And ride both ways?
"Yes."
"A shilling more, or thirty seven and a half cents daily for car and
stage hire. Now for another little calculation. Three hundred days,
at three shillings a day. There it is."
And Hamilton reached a slip of paper to his friend.
"Impossible!" The latter actually started to his feet. "A hundred
and twelve dollars and fifty cents!"
"If you spend three shillings a day, you will spend that sum in a
year. Figures are inexorable."
Hoffman sat down again in troubled surprise, saying,
"Have you got to the end?"
"Not yet," replied his companion.
"Very well. Go on."
"I often notice you with candies, or other confections; and you are,
sometimes, quite free in sharing them with your friends. Burnt
almonds, sugar almonds, Jim Crow's candied fruits, macaroons, etc.
These are not to be had for nothing; and besides their cost they are
a positive injury to the stomach. You, of course, know to what
extent you indulge this weakness of appetite. Shall we say that it
costs an average of ten cents a day?"
"Add fruit, in and out of season, and call it fifteen cents,"
replied Hoffman.
"Very well. For three hundred days this will give another large
sum--forty-five dollars?"
"Anything more?" said Hoffman in a subdued, helpless kind of way,
like one lying prostrate from a sudden blow.
"I've seen you driving out occasionally; sometimes on Sunday. And,
by the way, I think you generally take an excursion on Sunday, over
to Staten Island, or to Hoboken, or up the river, or--but no matter
where; you go about and spend money on the Sabbath day. How much
does all this cost? A dollar a week? Seventy-five cents? Fifty
cents? We are after the exact figures as near as maybe. What does it
cost for drives and excursions, and their spice of refreshment?"
"Say thirty dollars a year."
"Thirty dollars, then, we will call it. And here let us close, in
order to review the ground over which we have been travelling. All
those various expenses, not one of which is for things essential to
health, comfort, or happiness, but rather for their destruction,
amount to the annual sum of four hundred and two dollars sixty
cents,--you can go over the figures for yourself. Add to this three
hundred and eighty-four dollars, the cost of boarding and clothing,
and you swell the aggregate to nearly eight hundred dollars; and
your salary is but six hundred!"
A long silence followed.
"I am amazed, confounded!" said Hoffman, resting his head between
his hands, as he leaned on the table at which they were sitting.
"And not only amazed and confounded," he went on, "but humiliated,
ashamed! Was I a blind fool that I did not see it myself? Had I
forgotten my multiplication table?"
"You are like hundreds--nay, thousands," replied the friend, "to whom
a sixpence, a shilling, or even a dollar spent daily has a very
insignificant look; and who never stop to think that sixpence a day
amounts to over twenty dollars in a year; a shilling a day to over
forty; and a dollar a day to three hundred and sixty-five. We cannot
waste our money in trifles, and yet have it to spend for substantial
benefits. The cigars you smoked in the past year; the games of
billiards you played; the ale and oysters, cakes, confections, and
fruit consumed; the rides in cars and stages; the drives and Sunday
excursions, crave only the briefest of pleasures, and left new and
less easily satisfied desires behind. It will not do, my friend, to
grant an easy indulgence to natural appetite and desire, for they
ever seek to be our masters. If we would be men--self-poised,
self-controlling, self-possessing men--we must let reason govern in
all our actions. We must be wise, prudent, just, and self-denying;
and from this rule of conduct will spring order, tranquillity of
mind, success, and true enjoyment. I think, Hoffman, that I am quite
as happy a man as you are; far happier, I am sure, at this moment;
and yet I have denied myself nearly all theses indulgences through
which you have exhausted your means and embarrassed yourself with
debt. Moreover, I have a hundred dollars clear of everything, with
which I shall take a long-desired excursion, while you will be
compelled, for lack of the very money which has been worse than
wasted, to remain a prisoner in the city. Pray, be counselled to a
different course in future."
"I would be knave or fool to need further incentive," said Hoffman,
with much bitterness. "At the rate I am going on, debt, humiliation,
and disgrace are before me. I may live up to my income without
actually wronging others--but not beyond it. As things are now going,
I am two hundred dollars worse off at the end of each year when than
I began, and, worse still, weaker as to moral purpose, while the
animal and sensual natures, from constant indulgence, have grown
stronger. I must break this thraldom now; for, a year hence, it may
be too late! Thank, you, my friend, for your plain talk. Thank you
for teaching me anew the multiplication table, I shall, assuredly,
not forget it again."