THE whole purpose of Mr. Bolton's life had been the accumulation ofproperty, with an end to his own gratification. To part with adollar was therefore ever felt as the giving up of a prospectivegood; and it acted as the abridgment of present happiness. Appealsto Mr. Bolton's benevolence had never been very successful; and, ingiving, he had not experienced the blessing which belongs of rightto good deeds. The absolute selfishness of his feelings wronged himof what was justly his due.
Thus passed the life of Mr. Bolton. Dollar was added to dollar,house to house, and field to field. Yet he was never satisfied withgaining; for the little he had, looked so small compared with thewealth of the world, after the whole of which his heart reallypanted, as to appear at times actually insignificant. Thus, as hegrew older, he set a value upon what he had, as the means of gainingmore, and in his parting with money, did so at the expense of adaily increasing reluctance.
In the beginning of life, Mr. Bolton possessed a few generousfeelings, the remains of early and innocent states stored up inchildhood. His mother, a true woman, perceiving the strong selfishand accumulative bent of his character, had sought in every possibleway to implant in his mind feelings of benevolence and regard forothers. One mode of doing this had been to introduce him into scenesthat appealed to his sympathies. She often took him with her to seepoor or sick persons, and so interested him in them as to create adesire in his mind to afford relief. So soon as she perceived thisdesire awakened, she devised some mode of bringing it into activity,so that he might feel the delights which spring from a consciousnessof having done good to another.
But so strong was the lad's hereditary love of self, that she everfound difficulty in inducing him to sacrifice what he alreadyconsidered his own, in the effort to procure blessings for others,no matter how greatly they stood in need. If urged to spend asixpence of his own for such a purpose, he would generally reply:
"But you've got a great many more sixpences than I have, mother: whydon't you spend them?"
To this, Mrs. Bolton would answer as appropriately as possible; butshe found but poor success in her efforts, which were never relaxed.
In early manhood, as Mr. Bolton began to come in actual contact withthe world, the remains of early states of innocence and sympathywith others came back, as we have intimated, upon him, and he acted,in many instances, with a generous disregard of self. But as he benthis mind more and more earnestly to the accumulation of money, thesefeelings had less and less influence over him. And as dollar afterdollar was added to his store, his interest in the welfare of othersgrew less and less active. Early friendships were graduallyforgotten, and the first natural desire to see early friendsprosperous like himself, gradually died out. "Every man forhimself," became the leading principle of his life; and he actedupon it on all occasions. In taking a pew in church and regularlyattending worship every Sabbath, he was governed by the idea that itwas respectable to do so, and gave a man a standing in society, thatreacted favourably upon his worldly interests. In putting his nameto a subscription paper, a thing not always to be avoided, even byhim, a business view of the matter was invariably taken, and thesatisfaction of mind experienced on the occasion arose from thereflection that the act would benefit him in the long run. As to theminor charities, in the doing of which the left hand has noacquaintance with the deeds of the right hand, Mr. Bolton neverindulged in them. If his left hand had known the doings of his righthand in matters of this kind, said hand would not have been muchwiser for the knowledge.
Thus life went on; and Mr. Bolton was ever busy in gathering in hisgolden harvest; so busy, that he had no time for any thing else, noteven to enjoy what he possessed. At last, he was sixty years old,and his wealth extended to many hundreds of thousands of dollars.But he was farther from being satisfied than ever, and less happythan at any former period in his life.
One cause of unhappiness arose from the fact that, as a rich man, hewas constantly annoyed with applications to do a rich man's part inthe charities of the day. And to these applications it wasimpossible always to turn a deaf ear. Give he must sometimes, andgiving always left a pain behind, because the gift came not from aspirit of benevolence. There were other and various causes ofunhappiness, all of which combining, made Mr. Bolton, as old agecame stealing upon him, about as miserable as a man could well be.Money, in his eyes the greatest good, had not brought the peace ofmind to which he had looked forward, and the days came and wentwithout a smile. His children had grown up and passed into theworld, and were, as he had been at their ages, so all-absorbed bythe love of gain, as to have little love to spare for any thingelse.
About this time, Mr. Bolton, having made one or two losingoperations, determined to retire from business, invest all his moneyin real estate and other securities, and let the management of theseinvestments constitute his future employment. In this new occupationhe found so little to do in comparison with his former busy life,that the change proved adverse, so far as his repose of mind wasconcerned.
It happened, about this time, that Mr. Bolton had occasion to gosome twenty miles into the country. On returning home, and whenwithin a few miles of the city, his carriage was overset, and he hadthe misfortune to fracture a limb. This occurred near a pleasantlittle farm-house that stood a few hundred yards from the road; theowner of which, seeing the accident, ran to the overturned carriageand assisted to extricate the injured man. Seeing how badly he washurt, he had him removed to his house, and then, taking a horse,rode off two miles for a physician. In the mean time, the driver ofMr. Bolton's carriage was despatched to the city for some of hisfamily and his own physician. The country doctor and the one fromthe city arrived about the same time. On making a carefulexamination as to the nature of Mr. Bolton's injuries, it was foundthat his right leg, above the knee, was broken, and that one of hisankles was dislocated. He was suffering great pain, and was muchexhausted. As quickly as it could be done, the bone was set, and thedislocation reduced. By this time it was nightfall, and too late tothink seriously of returning home before morning. The moment Mr.Gray, the farmer, saw the thoughts of the injured man and hisfriends directed towards the city, he promptly invited them toremain in his house all night, and as much longer as the nature ofMr. Bolton's injuries might require. This invitation was thankfullyaccepted.
During the night, Mr. Bolton suffered a great deal of pain, and inthe morning, when the physicians arrived, it was found that hisinjured limb was much inflamed. Of course, a removal to the city wasout of the question. The doctors declared that the attempt would bemade at the risk of his life. Farmer Gray said that such a thingmust not be thought of until the patient was fully able to bear thejourney; and the farmer's wife as earnestly remonstrated against anyattempt at having the injured man disturbed until it could beperfectly safe to do so. Both tendered the hospitalities of theirhumble home with so much sincerity, that Mr. Bolton felt that hecould accept of them with perfect freedom.
It was a whole month ere the old gentleman was in a condition tobear the journey to town; and not once in the whole of that time hadMr. and Mrs. Gray seemed weary of his presence, nor once relaxed intheir efforts to make him comfortable. As Mr. Bolton was aboutleaving, he tendered the farmer, with many expressions of gratitudefor the kindness he had received, a hundred-dollar bill, as somesmall compensation for the trouble and expense he had occasioned himand his family. But Mr. Gray declined the offer, saying, as he didso:
"I have only done what common humanity required, Mr. Bolton; andwere I to receive money, all the pleasure I now experience would begone."
It was in vain that Mr. Bolton urged the farmer's acceptance of someremuneration. Mr. Gray was firm in declining to the last. All thatcould be done was to send Mrs. Gray a handsome present from thecity; but this did not entirely relieve the mind of Mr. Bolton fromthe sense of obligation under which the disinterested kindness ofthe farmer had laid him; and thoughts of this tended to soften hisfeelings, and to awaken, in a small measure, the human sympathieswhich had so long slumbered in his bosom.
Several months passed before Mr. Bolton was able to go out, and thenhe resumed his old employment of looking after his rents, andseeking for new and safe investments that promised some betterreturns than he was yet receiving.
One day, a broker, who was in the habit of doing business for Mr.Bolton, said to him:
"If you want to buy a small, well-cultivated farm, at about halfwhat it is worth, I think I know where you can get one."
"Do you?"
"Yes. Three years ago it was bought for three thousand dollars, andseven hundred paid down in cash. Only eight hundred dollars havesince been paid on it; and as the time for which the mortgage was toremain has now expired, a foreclosure is about to take place. By alittle management, I am satisfied that I can get you the farm forthe balance due on the mortgage."
"That is, for fifteen hundred dollars?"
"Yes."
"Is the farm worth that? Will it be a good investment?"
"It is in the highest state of cultivation. The owner has spent toomuch money upon it. This, with the loss of his entire crop of wheat,rye, corn, oats, and hay, last year, has crippled him, and made itimpossible to pay off the mortgage."
"How came he to meet with this loss?"
"His barn was struck by lightning."
"That was unfortunate."
"The farm will command, at the lowest, two hundred and fifty dollarsrent; and by forcing a sale just at this time, it can be had forfifteen hundred or two thousand dollars--half its real value."
"It would be a good investment at that."
"Capital. I would advise you to secure it."
After making some brief inquiries as to its location, the quality ofthe land, the improvements, etc., Mr. Bolton told the broker, inwhom he had great confidence, that he might buy the property forhim, if he could obtain it for any thing below two thousand dollars.This the broker said he could easily do, as the business offoreclosure was in his own hands.
In due time, Mr. Bolton was informed by his agent in the matter,that a sale under the mortgage had taken place, and that, by meansof the little management proposed, he had succeeded in keeping awayall competition in bidding. The land, stock, farming implements, andall, had been knocked down at a price that just covered theencumbrance on the estate, and were the property of Mr. Bolton, athalf their real value.
"That was a good speculation," said the gray-headed money-lover,when his agent informed him of what he had been doing.
"First-rate," replied the broker. "The farm is worth every cent ofthree thousand dollars. Poor Gray! I can't help feeling sorry forhim. But it's his luck. He valued his farm at three thousand fivehundred dollars. A week ago he counted himself worth two thousanddollars, clean. Now he isn't worth a copper. Fifteen hundred dollarsand three or four years' labour thrown away into the bargain. Butit's his luck! So the world goes. He must try again. It will all goin his lifetime."
"Gray? Is that the man's name?" inquired Mr. Bolton. His voice waschanged.
"Yes. I thought I had mentioned his name."
"I didn't remark it, if you did. It's the farm adjoining Harvey's,on the north?"
"Yes."
"I have had it in my mind, all along, that it was the one on thesouth."
"No."
"When did you see Mr. Gray?"
"He was here about half an hour ago."
"How does he feel about the matter?"
"He takes it hard, of course. Any man would. But it's his luck, andhe must submit. It's no use crying over disappointments and losses,in this world."
Mr. Bolton mused for a long time.
"I'll see you again to-morrow," he said, at length. "Let every thingremain as it is until then."
The man who had been for so many years sold, as it were, toselfishness, found himself checked at last by the thought ofanother. While just in the act of grasping a money advantage, theinterest of another arose up, and made him pause.
"If it had been any one else," said he to himself, as he walkedslowly homeward, "all would have been plain sailing. But--but"--
The sentence was not finished.
"It won't do to turn HIM away," was at length uttered. "He shallhave the farm at a very moderate rent."
Still, these concessions of selfishness did not relieve the mind ofMr. Bolton, nor make him feel more willing to meet the man who haddone him so groat a kindness, and in such a disinterested spirit.
All that day, and for a portion of the night that followed, Mr.Bolton continued to think over the difficulty in which he foundhimself placed; and the more he thought, the less willing did hefeel to take the great advantage of the poor farmer at firstcontemplated. After falling asleep, his mind continued occupied withthe same subject, and in the dreams that came to him, he lived overa portion of the past.
He was again a helpless invalid, and the kind farmer and hisexcellent wife were ministering, as before, to his comfort. Hisheart was full of grateful feelings. Then a change came suddenly. Hestood the spectator of a widely-spread ruin which had fallen uponthe excellent Mr. Gray and his family. A fierce tempest was sweepingover his fields, and levelling all-houses, trees, and grain--in ruinto the earth. A word spoken by him would have saved all; he feltthis: but he did not speak the word. The look of reproach suddenlycast upon him by the farmer so stung him that he awoke; and fromthat time until the day dawned, he lay pondering on the course ofconduct he had best pursue.
The advantage of the purchase he had made was so great, that Mr.Bolton thought of relinquishing it with great reluctance. On theother hand, his obligation to the farmer was of such a nature, thathe must, in clinging to his bargain, forfeit his self-respect, andmust suffer a keen sense of mortification, if not dishonour, at anytime that he happened to meet Mr. Gray face to face. Finally, aftera long struggle, continued through several days, he resolved toforego the good he had attempted to grasp.
How many years since this man had done a generous action! since hehad relinquished a selfish and sordid purpose out of regard toanother's well-being! And now it had cost him a desperate struggle;but after the trial was past, his mind became tranquil, and he couldthink of what he was about to do with an emotion of pleasure thatwas new in his experience. Immediately on this resolution beingformed, Mr. Bolton called upon his agent. His first inquiry was:
"When did you see Gray?"
"The previous owner of your farm?"
"Yes."
"Not since the sale. You told me to let every thing remain as itwas."
"Hasn't he called?"
"No."
"The loss of his farm must be felt as a great misfortune."
"No doubt of that. Every man feels his losses as misfortunes. But weall have to take the good and the bad in life together. It's hisluck, and he must put up with it."
"I wonder if he hasn't other property?"
"No."
"Are you certain?"
"Oh, yes. I know exactly what he was worth. He had been overseer forElbertson for several years, and while there, managed to save sevenhundred dollars, with which he paid down the cash required inpurchasing his farm. Since then, he has been paying off the mortgagethat remained on the property, and but for the burning of his barn,might have prevented a result that has been so disastrous tohimself. But it's an ill wind that blows nobody any good. In everyloss, somebody gains; and the turn of the die has been in yourfavour this time."
Mr. Bolton did not appear to feel as much satisfaction at this viewof the case as the broker anticipated; and seeing this, he changedthe subject, by asking some question about the consummation of thesale under the mortgage.
"I'll see you about that to-morrow," said Mr. Bolton.
"Very well," was replied.
After some more conversation, Mr. Bolton left the office of hisagent.
For years, farmer Gray had been toiling late and early, to becomethe full owner of his beautiful farm. Its value had much increasedsince it had come into his possession, and he looked forward withpleasure to the time when it would be his own beyond all doubt. Butthe loss of an entire year's crop, through the burning of his barn,deeply tried and dispirited him. From this grievous disappointment,his spirits were beginning to rise, when the sudden foreclosure ofthe mortgage and hurried sale of his farm crushed all his hopes tothe earth.
Who the real purchaser of his farm was, Mr. Gray did not know, forthe broker had bought in his own name. So bewildered was the farmerby the suddenly-occurring disaster, that, for several dayssubsequent to the sale, he remained almost totally paralyzed inmind. No plans were laid for the future, nor even those ordinarysteps for the present taken, that common prudence would suggest; hewandered about the farm, or sat at home, dreamily musing upon whatseemed the utter ruin of all his best hopes in life. While in thisstate, he was surprised by a visit from Mr. Bolton. The oldgentleman, in taking him by the hand, said--"What's the matter, myfriend? You appear in trouble."
"And I am in trouble," was unhesitatingly answered.
"Not so deep but that you may get out of it again, I hope?"
Mr. Gray shook his head in a desponding way.
"What is the trouble?" Mr. Bolton inquired.
"I have lost my farm."
"Oh, no!"
"It is too true; it has been sold for a mortgage of fifteen hundreddollars. Though I have already paid more than that sum on account ofthe purchase, it only brought enough to pay the encumbrance, and Iam ruined."
The farmer was deeply disturbed, and Mr. Bolton's feelings were muchinterested.
"Don't be so troubled, my good friend," said the old gentleman. "Yourendered me a service in the time of need, and it is now in my powerto return it. The farm is still yours. I hold the mortgage, and youneed not fear another foreclosure."
Some moments passed after this announcement before Mr. Gray's mindbecame clear, and his entire self-possession returned; then graspingthe hand of Mr. Bolton, he thanked him with all the eloquence agrateful heart inspires. It was the happiest moment the old merchanthad seen for years. The mere possession of a thousand or two ofdollars seemed as nothing to the pleasure he felt at havingperformed a good action; or, rather, at having refrained from doingan evil one.
As he rode back to the city, reflecting upon what he had done, andrecalling the delight shown by Mr. Gray and his kind partner, whohad attended him so carefully while he lay a sufferer beneath theirroof, his heart swelled in his bosom with a new and happy emotion.
Having once permitted himself to regard another with an unselfishinterest, that interest continued; it seemed as if he could not doenough for the farmer in the way of aiding him to develop theresources of his little property. In this he did not merely stop atsuggestions, but tendered something more substantial and available.Nor did the feelings awakened in his mind run all in this direction;occasions enough offered for him to be generous to others, and torefrain from oppression for the sake of gain. Many of these wereembraced, and Mr. Bolton, in realizing the fact that it is sometimesmore blessed to give than to receive, found in the latter years ofhis life a NEW PLEASURE--the pleasure of benevolence.
THE END.
* * * * * * * * * * * *