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 employees, 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.