"Ah! how are you, Jones? Can't we sell you a bill, to-day?"
They were for ever importuning me to buy, and often tempted me to
make purchases of goods that I really did not want. I was young and
green then, and did not know any thing about shelves full of odds
and ends, and piece upon piece of unsaleable goods, all of which had
to be paid for.
For two or three years, I managed to keep along, though not so
pleasantly as if I had used my credit with less freedom. By that
time, however, the wheels of my business machinery were sadly
clogged. From a salesman behind my counter, I became a "financier." (!)
During the best hours of the day, and when I was most wanted in the
store, I was on the street, hunting for money. It was borrow,
borrow, borrow, and pay, pay, pay. My thoughts were not directed
toward the best means of making my business profitable, but were
upon the ways and means of paying my notes, that were falling due
with alarming rapidity. I was nearly all the time in the delectable
state of mind of the individual who, on running against a sailor,
was threatened with being knocked "into the middle of next week."
"Do it, for heaven's sake!" he replied--"I would give the world to
be there."
On Monday morning, I could see my way through the week no clearer
than this note-haunted sufferer. In fact, I lived a day at a time.
On the first of each month, when I looked over my bill-book, and
then calculated my resources, I was appalled. I saw nothing ahead
but ruin. Still I floundered on, getting myself deeper and deeper in
the mire, and rendering my final extrication more and more
difficult.
At last, I found that my principal creditors, who had sold me so
freely from the first, and to whom nearly the half of what I owed
was due, began to be less anxious about selling me goods. They did
not call me in, as of old, when I passed, nor did they urge me to
buy when I went to their store. Still they sent home what I ordered;
but their prices, which before were the lowest in the trade, were
now above the average rates. I noticed, felt, and thought I
understood all this. I had been careful not to borrow money from
that firm; still, I was borrowing, somewhere, every day, and they,
of course, knew it, and began to be a little doubtful of my
stability.
At last, I was cornered on a note of a thousand dollars, due this
house. Besides this note, I had fifteen hundred dollars of borrowed
money to pay. At nine o'clock, I started forth, leaving good
customers in the store, to whom no one could attend as well as
myself. By twelve o'clock, I was able to return my borrowed money,
and had the promise of a thousand dollars by half-past one. Until
half-past one I waited, when a note came from the friend who had
promised the loan, informing me with many expressions of regret,
that he had been disappointed, and, therefore, could not accommodate
me.
Here was a dilemma, indeed. Half-past one o'clock, and a thousand
dollars to raise; but there was no time for regrets. I started forth
with a troubled heart, and not feeling very sanguine of success.
Borrowing money is far from being pleasant employment, and is only
endurable as a less evil than not meeting your obligations. For that
day, I had thought my trials on this head over; but I erred. I had
again to put on my armour of _brass_ and go forth to meet coldness,
rebuffs, and polite denials. Alas! I got no more; not a dollar
rewarded my earnest efforts. Two o'clock found me utterly
discouraged. Then, for the first time, it occurred to me to go to
the holders of the note and frankly tell them that I could not lift
it.
"But that will ruin your credit with them."
Yes, that was the rub; and then it was so mortifying a resource.
After a short space of hurried reflection, I concluded that as I had
twice as much credit in other quarters as it was prudent to use, I
would ask a renewal of the note, which would be a great relief. It
was better, certainly, than to suffer a protest. At the thought of a
protest I shuddered, and started to see the parties to whom the note
was due, feeling much as I suppose a culprit feels when about being
arraigned for trial. It was twenty minutes past two when I called at
their store.
"I am sorry," I said to one of the firm, whom I first met, speaking
in a husky, agitated voice, "to inform you that I shall not be able
to lift my note that falls due to-day."
His brows fell instantly.
"I had made every arrangement to meet it," I continued, "and was to
receive the money at one o'clock to-day, but was unexpectedly
disappointed. I have tried since to raise the amount, but find it
too late in the day."
The man's brows fell still lower, while his eyes remained steadily
fixed upon my face.
"I shall have to ask you to extend it for me."
"I don't think we can do that," he coldly replied.
"Will you consult your partners?" I said; "time presses."
The man bowed stiffly, his aspect about as pleasing as if I had
robbed him, and turned away. I was standing near the door of the
counting-room, inside of which were his two partners, with whom he
had retired to confer.
"Jones can't pay his note," I heard him say, in tones most
unpleasant to my ear.
"What!" was replied; "Jones?"
"Yes, Jones."
"What does he want?"
"A renewal."
"Nonsense! He can pay, if he finds he must."
"It is nearly half-past two," one of them remarked.
"No matter. It's of too much importance to him to keep his good
name; he'll find somebody to help him. Threaten him with a protest;
shake that over his head, and the money'll be raised."
With a Siberian aspect, the man returned to me.
"Can't do any thing for you," he said. "Sorry for it."
"My note must lie over, then," I replied.
"It will be protested."
The very sound of the word went through me like an arrow. I felt the
perspiration starting from every pore; but I was indignant at the
same time, and answered, as firmly as I could speak--"Very well; let
it be."
"As you like," he said, in the same cold tone, and with the same
dark aspect, partly turning away as he spoke.
"But, my dear sir"--
"It is useless to waste words," he remarked, interrupting me. "You
have our ultimatum."
As I left the store, I felt as if I had been guilty of some crime; I
was ashamed to look even the clerks in the face. A feeble resolution
to make an effort to save myself from the disgrace and disaster of a
protest stirred in my mind; but it died away, and I returned to my
store to await the dread result that must follow this failure to
take up my paper. I looked at the slow-moving hand on the clock, and
saw minute after minute go by with a stoicism that surprised even
myself. At last the stroke of the hammer fell; the die was cast. I
would be protested, that greatest of all evils dreaded by a man of
business. As to going home to dinner, that was out of the question;
I could not have eaten a mouthful to save me. All I had now to do
was to wait for the visit of the notary, from which I shrank with a
nervous dread. Everybody in the street would know him, I thought,
and everybody would see him enter my store and comprehend his
business.
Half-past three arrived, and yet I had not been bearded by the dread
monster, at whose very name thousands have trembled and do still
tremble. I sat awaiting him in stern silence. Four o'clock, and yet
he had not come. Perhaps, it was suggested to me, the holders of the
note had withdrawn it at the last moment. Cheering thought!
Just then I saw a lad enter the store and speak to one of the
clerks, who pointed back to where I sat. The boy was not over
fourteen, and had, I noticed as he approached, a modest, rather
shrinking look.
"Mr. Jones?" he said, when he had come near to me.
"Yes," I replied, indifferently, scarcely wondering what he wanted.
"Will you pay this note?" he said, opening a piece of paper that I
had not observed in his hand, and presenting it to me.
My head was in a whirl for an instant, but was as quickly clear
again.
"No, my lad," I replied, in a composed voice, "I shall not pay it."
"You will not pay it?" he repeated, as if he had not heard me
distinctly.
"No," said I.
The lad bowed politely, slipped the dishonoured note into his
pocket, and retired.
I drew a long breath, leaned back in my chair with a sense of
relief, and murmured--"Not such a dreadful affair, after all. So, I
am protested! The operation is over, and I hardly felt the pain. And
now what next?"
As I said this, the man whose Siberian face had almost congealed me
entered my store, and came hurriedly back to where I still remained
sitting. His face was far less wintry. The fact was, I owed the firm
fifteen thousand dollars, which was no joke; and they were nearly as
much alarmed, when they found that my note was actually under
protest, as I was before the fact.
"Is it possible, Mr. Jones," he said, his voice as husky and
tremulous as mine was when I called upon him an hour or two before,
"that you have suffered your note to lie over!"
"Did I not inform you that such would be the case?" I replied, with
assumed sternness of voice and manner. The boot was on the other
leg, and I was not slow in recognising the fact.
"But what do you intend to do, Mr. Jones? What is the state of your
affairs?"
"At the proper time, I will inform you," I answered, coldly. "You
have driven me into a protest, and you must stand the consequences."
"Are your affairs desperate, Mr. Jones?" The creditor became almost
imploring in his manner.
"They will probably become so now. Does a man's note lie over
without his affairs becoming desperate?"
"Perhaps"--
There was a pause. I looked unflinchingly into the man's face.
"If we extend this note, and keep the matter quiet, what then?"
"It won't do," I returned. "More than that will be required to save
me."
My creditor looked frightened, while I maintained an aspect of as
much indifference and resolution as I could assume.
"What will save you?" he asked.
I was thinking as rapidly as I could, in order to be prepared for
striking while the iron was hot, and that to good purpose.
"I'll tell you," I replied.
"Well, what is it?" He looked eager and anxious.
"My fault has been one into which your house led me, that of buying
too freely," said I; "of using my credit injudiciously. The
consequence is, that I am cramped severely, and am neglecting my
legitimate business in order to run about after money. I owe your
house more than half of the aggregate of my whole liabilities. Give
me the time I ask, in order to recover myself and curtail my
business, and I can go through."
"What time do you ask?"
"I owe you fifteen thousand dollars."
"So much?"
"Yes; and the whole of it falls due within seven months. What I
propose is, to pay you five per cent. on the amount of my present
indebtedness every thirty days from this time until the whole is
liquidated; you to hand me a thousand dollars to-morrow morning, to
enable me to get my note out of bank, in order to save my credit."
The gentleman looked blank at the boldness of my proposition.
"Is that the best you can do?" he asked.
"The very best. You have driven me into a protest, and now, the
bitterness of that dreaded ordeal being past, I prefer making an
assignment and having my affairs settled up, to going on in the old
way. I will not continue in business, unless I can conduct it easily
and safely. I am sick of being on the rack; I would rather grub for
a living."