The friend told him all he knew, and he was satisfied that a better
offering might never present itself. But two thousand dollars were
indispensable.
"Can't you borrow it?" suggested the friend.
"I will try."
"Try your best. You will never again have such an opportunity."
Peyton did try, but in vain. Those who could lend it to him considered
him "too good-hearted a fellow" to trust with money; and he was forced
to see that tide, which if he could have taken it at the flood, would
have led him on to fortune, slowly and steadily recede.
To Merwin the same offer was made. He had fifteen hundred dollars laid
by, and easily procured the balance. No one was afraid to trust him
with money.
"What a fool I have been!" was the mental exclamation of Peyton, when
he learned that his fellow-clerk had been able, with his own earnings,
on a salary no larger than his own, to save enough to embrace the
golden opportunity which he was forced to pass by. "They call Merwin
_mean_ and _selfish_--and I am called a _generous fellow_. That
means, he has acted like a wise man, and I like a fool, I suppose. I
know him better than they do. He is neither mean nor selfish, but
careful and prudent, as I ought to have been. His mother is poor, and
so is mine. Ah, me!" and the thought of his mother caused him to clasp
both hands against his forehead. "I believe two dollars of his salary
have been sent weekly to his poor mother. But I have never helped mine
a single cent. There is the mean man, and here is the generous one.
Fool! fool! wretch! He has fifteen hundred dollars ahead, after having
sent his mother one hundred dollars a year for five or six years, and
I am over five hundred dollars in debt. A fine, generous fellow,
truly!"
The mind of Peyton was, as it should be, disturbed to its very center.
His eyes were fairly opened, and he saw just where he stood, and what
he was worth as a generous man.
"They have flattered my weakness," said he, bitterly, "to eat and
drink and ride at my expense. It was very easy to say, 'how
free-hearted he is,' so that I could hear them. A cheap way of
enjoying the good things of life, verily! But the end of all this has
come. One year from to-day, if I live, I will owe no man a dollar. My
kind old mother, whom I have so long neglected, shall hear from me at
once--ten dollars every month I dedicate to her. Come what will,
nothing shall touch that. This agreement with myself I solemnly enter
into in the sight of Heaven, and nothing shall tempt me to violate
it."
"Are you going to ride out this afternoon, Peyton?" inquired a young
friend, breaking in upon him at this moment.
"Yes, if you'll hire the buggy," was promptly returned.
"I can't afford that."
"Nor I either. How much is your salary?"
"Only a thousand."
"Just what mine is. If you can't, I am sure I cannot."
"Of course, you ought to be the best judge. I knew you rode out often,
and liked company."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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