As no event of particularly marked interest occurred with those whose
histories we are writing, during the next few years, we will pass over
that time without a record. Some changes of more or less importance
have taken place, in the natural progress of things; but these will
become apparent as we pursue the narrative.
A dull, damp November day was losing itself in the sombre twilight,
when Edward Claire left the store of Mr. Melleville, and took his
way homeward. An errand for his wife led him past his old place of
business. As he moved along the street, opposite, he noticed a new
sign over the door, the large gilt letters of which were strongly
reflected in the light of a gas-lamp. It bore the words, JASPER &
PARKER.
Involuntarily the young man sighed. If he had remained with Jasper,
there was little doubt but that his name would have been the one now
associated with his in a copartnership. Parker was the young man who
had betrayed the conversation between Claire and Mr. Melleville. His
end in doing this was to gain the favour of Jasper, and thus secure
the place left vacant by the departing clerk. He had succeeded in his
purpose. Jasper offered him the situation, and he took it. Five
years afterward, in which time Jasper had made money rapidly, he
was elevated to the position of partner, with a fair interest in the
business. He had been honest toward his employer, because he saw that
through him there was a chance to rise. Honest in heart he was not,
for he never scrupled to overreach a customer.
Edward Claire, as we have remarked, sighed involuntarily. His own
prospects in life were not what are called flattering. His situation
with Mr. Melleville was now worth five hundred dollars a year, but his
family had increased, and with the increase had come new wants. The
condition of Mr. Melleville's business gave him no encouragement to
hope for a larger income while in his service. Several times during
the last two years he had made application for vacant places, but
without success. Sometimes he felt restless and discouraged, as his
vision penetrated the future; but there was ever a cheerful light at
home that daily dispelled the coming shadows.
Scarcely had the sigh lost itself on the air, when a hand was laid on
his arm, and an old acquaintance said--
"Ah, Edward! How are you?"
Claire seeing the face of his friend, returned the greeting cordially.
"What have you been doing with yourself?" asked the latter. "It is
months, I believe, since I had the pleasure of meeting you."
"Busy all day," returned Clare, "and anchored at home in the evening.
So the time is passing."
"Pleasantly and profitably, I hope," said the friend.
"Pleasantly enough, I will own," was answered; "as to the profit--if
you mean in a money sense--there is not much to boast of."
"You are still with Melleville?"
"Yes."
"At what salary?"
"Five hundred."
"Is that all? How much family have you?"
"Three children; or, I might say four; but the fourth brings us three
hundred dollars a year for her maintenance."
"That is something."
"Oh yes. It is quite a help."
"By the way, Edward--the new store we just past reminds me of it--your
old friend Jasper has just given one of his clerks, named Parker, an
interest in his business."
"So I am aware."
"Jasper is doing first-rate."
"He is making money, I believe."
"Coining it. The fact is, Edward, you never should have left him. Had
you kept that situation, you would have been the partner now. And, by
the way, there was rather a strange story afloat at the time you took
it into your head to leave Jasper."
"Ah! what was it?"
"It is said that you thought him a little too close in his dealings,
and left him on that account. I hadn't given you credit for quite so
tender a conscience. How was it, Edward?"
"I didn't like his modes of doing business, and, therefore, left him.
So far you heard truly."
"But what had you to do with _his_ modes of doing business?"
"A great deal. As one of his employées, I was expected to carry out
his views."
"And not being willing to do that, you left his service."
"That is the simple story."
"Excuse me, Edward, but I can't help calling you a great fool. Just
see how you have stood in your own light. But for this extra bit of
virtue, for which no one thinks a whit the better of you, you might
this day have been on the road to fortune, instead of Parker."
"I would rather be in my own position than in his," replied Claire
firmly.
"You would!" His companion evinced surprise. "He is in the sure road
to wealth."
"But not, I fear, in the way to happiness."
"How can you say that, Edward?"
"No man, who, in the eager pursuit of money, so far forgets the rights
of others as to trample on them, can be in the way to happiness."
"Then you think he tramples on the rights of others?"
"I know but little, if any thing, about him," replied Claire; "but
this I do know, that unless Leonard Jasper be a different man from
what he was five years ago, fair dealing between man and man is a
virtue in a clerk that would in nowise recommend him to the position
of an associate in business. His partner must be shrewd, sharp,
and unscrupulous--a lover of money above every thing else--a man
determined to rise, no matter who is trampled down or destroyed in the
ascent."
"In business circles such men are by no means scarce."
"I am aware of it."
"And it is unhesitatingly affirmed by many whom I know, that, as the
world now is, no really honest man can trade successfully."
"That is more than I am ready to admit."
"The sharpest and shrewdest get on the best."
"Because it is easier to be sharp and shrewd than to be intelligent,
persevering, industrious, patient, and self-denying. The eagerness to
get rich fast is the bane of trade. I am quite ready to admit that no
man can get rich at railroad speed, and not violate the law of doing
as you would be done by."
"Doing as you would be done by! O dear!" said the friend; "you
certainly don't mean to bring that law down into the actual life of
the world?"
"It would be a happier world for all of us if this law were
universally obeyed."
"That may be. But, where all are selfish, how is it possible to act
from an unselfish principle?"
"Do you approve of stealing?" said Claire, with some abruptness.
"Of course not," was the half-indignant answer.
"I need not have asked the question, for I now remember to have seen
the fact noticed in one of our papers, that an unfaithful domestic in
your family had been handed over to the police."
"True. She was a thief. We found in her trunk a number of valuable
articles that she had stolen from us."
"And you did right. You owed this summary justice as well to the
purloiner as to the public. Now, there are many ways of stealing,
besides this direct mode. If I deprive you of your property with
design, I steal from you. Isn't that clear?"
"Certainly."
"And I am, to use plain words, a thief. Well, now take this easily
to be understood case. I have a lot of goods to sell, and you wish to
purchase them. In the trade I manage to get from you, through direct
misrepresentation, or in a tacit advantage of your ignorance, more
than the goods are really worth. Do I not cheat you?"
"Undoubtedly."
"And having purposely deprived you of a portion of your money, am I
not a thief?"
"In all that goes to make up the morality of the case, you are."
"The truth, unquestionably. Need I proceed further? By your own
admission, every businessman who takes undue advantage of another in
dealing, steals."
"Pretty close cutting, that, friend Claire. It wouldn't do to talk
that right out at all times and in all places."
"Why not?"
"I rather think it would make some people feel bad; and others regard
themselves as insulted."
"I can believe so. But we are only talking this between ourselves.
And now I come back to my rather abrupt question--Do you approve of
stealing? No, you say, as a matter of course. And yet, you but just
now were inclined to justify sharp dealing, on the ground that all
were sharpers--quoting the saying of some, that no honest man could
trade successfully in the present time. For the direct stealing of
a few articles of trifling value, you hand a poor, ignorant domestic
over to the police, yet feel no righteous indignation against the
better-taught man of business, who daily robs his customers in some
one form or another."
"You are too serious by far, Edward," returned his companion, forcing
a laugh. "Your mind has fallen into a morbid state. But you will get
over this one of these times. Good evening! Our ways part here. Good
evening!"
And the young man turned off abruptly.
"A morbid state," mused Claire to himself, as he continued on alone.
"So thousands would say. But is it so? Is honesty or dishonesty the
morbid state? How direct a question! How plain the answer! Honesty is
health--dishonesty the soul's sickness. To be honest, is to live in
obedience to social and divine laws; dishonesty is the violation of
these. Is it possible for a diseased body to give physical enjoyment?
No! Nor can a diseased mind give true mental enjoyment. To seek
happiness in the possession of wealth obtained through wrong to
the neighbour, is as fruitless as to seek bodily pleasure in those
practices which inevitably destroy the health. To me, this is
self-evident, and may God give me strength to live according to my
clear convictions!"
The very earnestness with which Claire mentally confirmed himself in
his honest convictions, and especially his upward looking for strength
in conscious weakness, showed that his mind was in temptation. He
had felt somewhat depressed during the day, in view of his external
relation to the world; and this feeling was increased by his
observation of the fact that Parker had been advanced to the position
of a partner to his old employer. It seemed like a reward for unfair
dealing, while honesty was suffered to remain poor. The young man's
enlightened reason--enlightened during five years' earnest search
after and practice of higher truths than govern in the world's
practice--strongly combated all the false arguments that were
presented to his mind, during this season of his overshadowing. The
combat was severe, and still continued on his arrival at home--causing
his mind to be in a measure depressed.