EARLY in life, Mr. Jenkins had been what is called unfortunate in
business. Either from the want of right management, or from causes
that he could not well control, he became involved, and was broken
all to pieces. It was not enough that he gave up every dollar he
possessed in the world. In the hope that friends would interfere to
prevent his being sent to jail, some of his creditors pressed
eagerly for the balance of their claims, and the unhappy debtor had
no alternative but to avail himself of the statute made and provided
for the benefit of individuals in his extremity. It was a sore trial
for him; but any thing rather than to be thrown into prison.
After this tempest of trouble and excitement, there fell upon the
spirits of Mr. Jenkins a great calm. He withdrew himself from public
observation for a time, but his active mind would not let him remain
long in obscurity. In a few months, he was again in business, though
in a small way. His efforts were more cautiously directed than
before, and proved successful. He made something above his expenses
during the first year, and after that accumulated money rapidly. In
five or six years, Mr. Jenkins was worth some nine or ten thousand
dollars.
But with this prosperity came no disposition on the part of Mr.
Jenkins to pay off his old obligations. "They used the law against
me," he would say, when the subject pressed itself upon his mind, as
it would sometimes do, "and now let them get what the law will give
them."
There was a curious provision in the law by which Jenkins had been
freed from all the claims of his creditors against him; and this
provision is usually incorporated in all similar laws, though for
what reason it is hard to tell. It is only necessary to promise to
pay a claim thus annulled, to bring it in full force against the
debtor. If a man owes another a hundred dollars, and, by economy and
self-denial, succeeds in saving twenty dollars and paying them to
him, he becomes at once liable for the remaining eighty dollars,
unless the manner of doing it be very guarded, and is in danger of a
prosecution, although unable to pay another cent. A prudent man, who
has once been forced into the unhappy alternative of taking the
benefit of the insolvent law, is always careful, lest, in an
unguarded moment, he acknowledge his liability to some old creditor,
before he is fully able to meet it. Anxious as he is to assure this
one and that one of his desire and intention to pay them, if ever in
his power, and to say to them that he is struggling early and late
for their sakes as well as his own, his lips must remain sealed. A
word of his intentions, and all his fond hopes of getting fairly on
his feet again are in danger of shipwreck.
Understanding the binding force of a promise of this kind, made in
writing or in the presence of witnesses, certain of the more selfish
or less manly and honorable class of creditors are ever seeking to
extort by fair or foul means, from an unfortunate debtor, who has
honestly given up every thing, an acknowledgment of his indebtedness
to them, in order that they may reap the benefit of his first
efforts to get upon his feet again. Many and many an honest but
indiscreet debtor has been thrown upon his back once more from this
cause, and all his hopes in life blasted for ever. The means of
approach to a debtor, in this situation, are many and various. "Do
you think you will ever be able to do any thing on that old
account?" blandly asked, in the presence of a third party, is
answered by, "I hope so. But, at present, it takes every dollar I
can earn for the support of my family." This is sufficient--the
whole claim is in full force. In the course of a month or two,
perhaps in a less period, a sheriff's writ is served, and the poor
fellow's furniture, or small stock in trade, is seized, and he
broken all up again. To have replied--"You have no claim against
me," to the insidious question, seemed in the mind of the poor, but
honest man, so much like a public confession that he was a rogue,
that he could not do it. And yet this was his only right course, and
he should have taken it firmly. Letters are often written, calling
attention to the old matter, in which are well-timed allusions to
the debtor's known integrity of character, and willingness to pay
every dollar he owes in the world, if ever able. Such letters should
never be answered, for the answer will be almost sure to contain
something that, in a court of justice, will be construed into an
acknowledgment of the entire claim. In paying off old accounts that
the law has cancelled, which we think every man should do, if in his
power, the acknowledgment of indebtedness never need go further than
the amount paid at any time. Beyond this, no creditor, who does not
wish to oppress, will ask a man to go. If any seek a further revival
of the old claim, let the debtor be aware of them; and also, let him
be on his guard against him who in any way alludes, either in
writing or personally, to the previous indebtedness.
But we have digressed far enough. Mr. Jenkins, we are sorry to say,
was not of that class of debtors who never consider an obligation
morally cancelled. The law once on his side, he fully made up his
mind to keep it for ever between him and all former transactions.
Sundry were the attempts made to get old claims against him revived,
after it was clearly understood that he was getting to be worth
money; but Jenkins was a rogue at heart, and rogues are always more
wary than honest men.
Among the creditors of Jenkins, was a man named Gooding, who had
loaned him five hundred dollars, and lost three hundred of
it--two-fifths being all that was realized from the debtor's
effects. Gooding pitied sincerely the misfortunes of Jenkins, and
pocketed his loss without saying a hard word, or laying the weight
of a finger upon his already too heavily burdened shoulders. But it
so happened, that as Jenkins commenced going up in the world,
Gooding began to go down. At the time when the former was clearly
worth ten thousand dollars, he was hardly able to get money enough
to pay his quarterly rent-bills. Several times he thought of calling
the attention of his old debtor to the balance still against him,
which, as it was for borrowed money, ought certainly to be paid. But
it was an unpleasant thing to remind a friend of an old obligation,
and Gooding, for a time, chose to bear his troubles, as the least
disagreeable of the two alternatives. At last, however, difficulties
pressed so hard upon him, that he forced himself to the task.
Both he and Jenkins lived about three-quarters of a mile distant
from their places of business, in a little village beyond the
suburbs of the city. Gooding was lame, and used to ride to and from
his store in a small wagon, which was used for sending home goods
during the day. Jenkins usually walked into town in the morning, and
home in the evening. It not unfrequently happened that Gooding
overtook the latter, while riding home after business hours, when he
always invited him to take a seat by his side, which invitation was
never declined. They were, riding home in this way, one evening,
when Gooding, after clearing his throat two or three times, said,
with a slight faltering in his voice--"I am sorry, neighbour
Jenkins, to make any allusion to old matters, but as you are getting
along very comfortably, and I am rather hard pressed, don't you
think you could do something for me on account of the three hundred
dollars due for borrowed money. If it had been a regular business
debt, I would never have said a word about it, but"--
"Neighbour Gooding," said Jenkins, interrupting him, "don't give
yourself a moment's uneasiness about that matter. It shall be paid,
every dollar of it; but I am not able, just yet, to make it up for
you. But you shall have it."
This was said in the blandest way imaginable, yet in a tone of
earnestness.
"How soon do you think you can do something for me?" asked Gooding.
"I don't know. If not disappointed, however, I think I can spare you
a little in a couple of months."
"My rent is due on the first of October. If you can let me have, say
fifty dollars, then, it will be a great accommodation."
"I will see. If in my power, you shall certainly have at least that
amount."
Two months rolled round, and Gooding's quarter-day came. Nothing
more had been said by Jenkins on the subject of the fifty dollars,
and Gooding felt very reluctant about reminding him of his promise;
but he was short in making up his rent, just the promised sum. He
waited until late in the day, but Jenkins neither sent nor called.
As the matter was pressing, he determined to drop in upon his
neighbour, and remind him of what he had said. He accordingly went
round to the store of Jenkins, and found him alone with his clerk.
"How are you to-day?" said Jenkins, smiling.
"Very well. How are you?"
"So, so."
Then came a pause.
"Business rather dull," remarked Jenkins.
"Very," replied Gooding, with a serious face, and more serious tone
of voice. "Nothing at all doing. I never saw business so flat in my
life."
"Flat enough."
Another pause.
"Ahem! Mr. Jenkins," began Gooding, after a few moments, "do you
think you can do any thing for me to-day?"
"If there is any thing I can do for you, it shall be done with
pleasure," said Jenkins, in a cheerful way. "In what can I oblige
you?"
"You remember, you said that in all probability you would be able to
spare me as much as fifty dollars to-day?"
"_I_ said so?" Jenkins asked this question with an appearance of
real surprise.
"Yes. Don't you remember that we were riding home one evening, about
two months ago, and I called your attention to the old account
standing between us, and you promised to pay it soon, and said you
thought you could spare me fifty dollars about the time my quarter's
rent became due?"
"Upon my word, friend Gooding, I have no recollection of the
circumstance whatever," replied Jenkins with a smile. "It must have
been some one else with whom you were riding. I never said I owed
you any thing, or promised to pay you fifty dollars about this
time."
"Oh, yes! but I am sure you did."
"And I am just as sure that I did not," returned Jenkins, still
perfectly undisturbed, while Gooding, as might be supposed, felt his
indignation just ready to boil over. But the latter controlled
himself as best he could; and as soon as he could get away from the
store of Jenkins, without doing so in a manner that would tend to
close all intercourse between them, he left and returned to his own
place of business, chagrined and angry.
On the same evening, as Gooding was riding home, he saw Jenkins
ahead of him on the road. He soon overtook him. Jenkins turned his
usual smiling face upon his old creditor, and said, "Good evening,"
in his usual friendly way. The invitation to get up and ride, that
was always given on like occasions, was extended again, and in a few
moments the two men were riding along, side by side, as friendly, to
all appearance, as if nothing had happened.
"Jenkins, how could you serve me such a scaly trick as you did?"
Gooding said, soon after his neighbour had taken a seat by his side.
"You know very well that you promised to pay my claim; and also
promised to give me fifty dollars of it to-day, if possible."
"I know I did. But it was out of my power to let you have any thing
to-day," replied Jenkins.
"But what was the use of your denying it, and making me out a liar
or a fool, in the presence of your clerk?"
"I had a very good reason for doing so. My clerk would have been a
witness to my acknowledgment of your whole claim against me, and
thus make me liable before I was ready to pay it. As my head is
fairly clear of the halter, you cannot blame me for wishing to keep
it so. A burnt child, you know, dreads the fire."
"But you know me well enough to know that I never would have pressed
the claim against you."
"Friend Gooding, I have seen enough of the world to satisfy me that
we don't know any one. I am very ready to say to you, that your
claim shall be satisfied to the full extent, whenever it is in my
power to do so; but a legal acknowledgment of the claim I am not
willing to make. You mustn't think hard of me for what I did to-day.
I could not, in justice to myself, have done any thing else."
Gooding professed to be fully satisfied with this explanation,
although he was not. He was very well assured that Jenkins was
perfectly able to pay him the three hundred dollars, if he chose to
do so, and that his refusal to let him have the fifty dollars,
conditionally promised, was a dishonest act.
More than a year passed, during which time Gooding made many
fruitless attempts to get something out of Jenkins, who was always
on the best terms with him, but put him off with fair promises, that
were never kept. These promises were never made in the presence of a
third person, and might, therefore, have just as well been made to
the wind, so far as their binding force was concerned. Things grew
worse and worse with Gooding, and he became poorer every day, while
the condition of Jenkins as steadily improved.
One rainy afternoon, Gooding drove up to the store of his old
friend, about half an hour earlier than he usually left for home.
Jenkins was standing in the door.
"As it is raining, I thought I would call round for you," he said,
as he drew up his horse.
"Very much obliged to you, indeed," returned Jenkins, quite well
pleased. "Stop a moment, until I lock up my desk, and then I will be
with you."
In a minute or two Jenkins came out, and stepped lightly into the
wagon.
"It is kind in you, really, to call for me," he said, as the wagon
moved briskly away. "I was just thinking that I should have to get a
carriage."
"It is no trouble to me at all," returned Gooding, "and if it were,
the pleasure of doing a friend a kindness would fully repay it."
"You smell strong of whisky here," said Jenkins, after they had
ridden a little way, turning his eyes toward the back part of the
wagon as he spoke. "What have you here?"
"An empty whisky-hogshead. This rain put me in mind of doing what my
wife has been teasing me to do for the last six months--get her a
rain-barrel. I tried to get an old oil-cask, but couldn't find one.
They make the best rain-barrels. Just burn them out with a flash of
good dry shavings, and they are clear from all oily impurities, and
tight as a drum."
"Indeed! I never thought of that. I must look out for one, for our
old rain-hogshead is about tumbling to pieces."
From rain-barrels the conversation turned upon business, and at
length Gooding brought up the old story, and urged the settlement of
his claim as a matter of charity.
"You don't know how much I need it," he said. "Necessity alone
compels me to press the claim upon your attention."
"It is hard, I know, and I am very sorry for you," Jenkins replied.
"Next week, I will certainly pay you fifty dollars."
"I shall be very thankful. How soon after do you think you will be
able to let me have the balance of the three hundred due me. Say as
early as possible."
"Within three months, at least, I hope," replied Jenkins.
"Harry! Do you hear that?" said Gooding, turning his head toward the
back part of the wagon, and speaking in a quick, elated manner.
"Oh, ay!" came ringing from the bunghole of the whisky-hogshead.
"Who the dickens is that?" exclaimed Jenkins, turning quickly round.
"No one," replied Gooding, with a quiet smile, "but my clerk, Harry
Williams."
"Where?"
"Here," replied the individual named, pushing himself up through the
loose head of the upright hogshead, and looking into the face of the
discomfited Jenkins, with a broad smile of satisfaction upon his
always humorous phiz.
"Whoa, Charley," said Gooding, at this moment reining up his horse
before the house of Jenkins.
The latter stepped out, with his eyes upon the ground, and stood
with his hand upon the wagon, in thought, for some moments; then
looking up, he said, while the humour of the whole thing pressed
itself so full upon him, that he could not help smiling,
"See here, Gooding, if both you and Harry will promise me never to
say a word about this confounded trick, I will give you a check for
three hundred dollars on the spot."
"No, I must have four hundred and twenty-six dollars, the principal
and interest. Nothing less," returned Gooding firmly. "You have
acknowledged the debt in the presence of Mr. Williams, and if it is
not paid by to-morrow twelve o'clock, I shall commence suit against
you. If I receive the money before that time, we will keep this
little matter quiet; if suit is brought, all will come out on the
trial."
"As you please," said Jenkins angrily, turning away, and entering
his house.
Before twelve o'clock on the next day, however, Jenkins's clerk
called in at the store of Gooding, and paid him four hundred and
twenty-six dollars, for which he took his receipt in full for all
demands to date. The two men were never afterward on terms of
sufficient intimacy to ride in the same wagon together. Whether
Gooding and his clerk kept the matter a secret, as they promised, we
don't know. It is very certain, that it was known all over town in
less than a week, and soon after was told in the newspapers, as a
most capital joke.