Finger Posts on the Way of Life

"You are unreasonable, Ellen."

"Very likely I am; at least in your eyes. I believe you never had a very exalted opinion of your wife's good sense: nor much regard for her wishes!"

"I believe, Ellen," returned the husband, "that few men regard the happiness of their wives more than I have regarded the happiness of mine. Perhaps if I had been less considerate, it might have been better for all."

"Considerate, indeed! Oh, yes! You're very considerate to buy old warehouses to rent, in place of a decent dwelling for your family! Very considerate that—wasn't it?"

At this point of the contest, Mr. Tompkins retired from the field, his forces reduced and in disorder. He saw but one hope of peace, and that was by an early surrender, and on the best terms that could be made. The property that he had purchased yielded him about fourteen hundred a year. To sell this, and build, with the proceeds, a splendid mansion, from which no income could possibly arise, seemed to him an act of egregious folly. But any thing for peace. To sell it, and put the money in his business, was a much more desirable act, instead of borrowing money, at an exorbitant interest, in order to make his payments. He had more than once thought of doing this. At the time the investment was made, his business operations were light, and he did not need the use of over ten thousand dollars of the timely legacy he had received. Since then his business had increased, and with this increase came the need of more ready money than he could command. He did not like the idea of selling his real estate, because he was very confident, from the many improvements going on in the quarter of the city where it was situated, that it would double in value in the course of ten years. He was so confident of this, that he preferred paying a high rate of interest for money for temporary purposes, rather than sell his property. So hard did he become pressed at last, that he resorted to the expedient of raising ten thousand dollars on mortgage, at ten per centum per annum. Wolford held this mortgage, as the reader is aware.

It was with painful reluctance that Mr. Tompkins made up his mind to part with his warehouse property, in order to gratify the love of display which was the besetting sin of his better half. But, even should he do that, he would have to let ten thousand dollars go to clear off the mortgage; and if it brought him twenty-two or three thousand, or even twenty-five thousand, he would not have enough to build the elegant mansion his wife desired: and should he build one in a style not consonant with her exalted ideas, his position, instead of being better, would be much worse.

The next week, to poor Mr. Tompkins, he was called a rich man, was one of sad perplexity and anxious deliberation upon what it was best for him to do. He had great difficulty in raising sufficient money to meet his payments, independent of the ten thousand dollars demanded by Wolford. Where that sum was to come from he could not tell. He had made several applications for a loan to take the place of the one now upon his property, and had even caused advertisements to be inserted in the newspapers, addressed to "capitalists," but without effect.

During all this time, Mrs. Tompkins was as disagreeable as it was possible for her to be. When her husband returned home, in the evening, sick at heart with the toil and anxiety of the day, he was met by no pleasant words or cheerful smiles. A sober face presided at his table, where the words were few and coldly spoken.

The period for which Wolford's loan had been made was within two days of its expiration, when, half beside himself with perplexity, Mr. Tompkins advertised his property for sale. There were enough who understood its real value precisely, and were ready to come forward and offer to purchase. As soon as the miser and usurer saw the course events were taking, he very kindly informed Mr. Tompkins that he had just received, unexpectedly, a large sum of money, and should not want the ten thousand dollars due him.

"You are too late," replied Mr. Tompkins, when he communicated this intelligence.

"Why so?" asked Wolford.

"I have made up my mind to sell."

"I don't want my money."

"Oh, very well, I can keep it."

"On what security."

"My note of hand."

The miser shrugged his shoulders.

"Don't you like that security?"

"I have no objection to your warehouse property."

"But that I shall sell."

Wolford retired in a dissatisfied mood. He had overreached himself.

In the course of a week the sale was made, and for cash. The property brought twenty-five thousand dollars. After the mortgage was released, and his borrowed money account balanced, Mr. Tompkins had just twelve thousand dollars to his credit in bank, with a month's heavy payments before him.

On this basis, and with this position of affairs to sustain him, Mr. Tompkins, feeling in a desperate mood, determined that he would build himself an elegant residence. The plan was furnished by an architect, and the work commenced forthwith. Mrs. Tompkins was all her husband could wish, from the day she was apprized of his decision in regard to a matter that had so long been near her heart. He said nothing of the sacrifice he had made, nor intimated any thing about what might be the ultimate consequence, although every sober thought of the future awoke a fear. The house, when finished, cost twenty-three thousand dollars; and when furnished twenty-eight thousand. It need not be said that Mr. Tompkins was hard run for money. On the day he moved into his splendid mansion, he borrowed from Mr Wolford, on a mortgage of his new property, fifteen thousand dollars, at twelve per cent. per annum. He had but one or two alternatives—to borrow at this ruinous rate of interest, or fail. The operation was for one year, without any privilege of renewal; this was the longest time at which the usurer ever loaned his money.

For one year Mrs. John Tompkins was in her glory. She gave six large parties during that time, at a heavy cost. Her husband, notwithstanding the loan of fifteen thousand dollars, was in trouble about money matters; Business had been unusually dull both in the spring and fall, and money hard to collect. Nearly ten thousand dollars, which he had fully expected to receive from distant customers, failed to come in. As the period for which he had borrowed from Wolford drew toward its close, he could not but feel uneasy. From no other quarter had he any hope of raising so large a sum as fifteen thousand dollars upon his house. He was poring over his bill-book, one day, when the man he had thought of far more frequently than was pleasant to him, came in. Mr. Tompkins felt uneasy.

"Ah—how do you do, Mr. Wolford?" said he, affecting a pleased air. "Sit down."

Wolford looked grave. He had come on business, and to him business matters were of serious import. He returned the merchant's salutation with formality, seated himself deliberately, and, resting his hands upon the head of his cane, looked up with a sinister expression on his face.

"A fine day this, Mr. Wolford," said Tompkins.

"Yes, very fine. How is business?"

"Dull—terribly dull. I have never known such a business season. There is absolutely nothing doing."

Wolford made no reply.

"I suppose you have plenty of money to lend," remarked the merchant, hardly knowing why he said so.

"No—not a dollar. It's tight with me as well as it is with you. And this brings me to the subject-matter of my visit. You are no doubt aware that, according to the terms of the loan, you are to return my fifteen thousand dollars in a few days?"

"Yes, I am aware of it. Must you have it all?"

"Every dollar; and I want three times as much, if I can get it."

"I was in hope you would renew the loan, Mr. Wolford."

"That's impossible."

"I really don't see how I am to raise fifteen thousand dollars in a few days—these times."

"You have had long enough to make it up, I am sure. You knew very well that the loan would come due next week, and that it was only for one year."

"Yes, I knew all that, very well."

"And yet you are not prepared to pay it?"

"No, I certainly am not to-day. What I may be in a week is more than I can tell."

Wolford did not want the money he had loaned to Mr. Tompkins—that is, he had no use for it. But he could never rest contented for any length of time under the reflection that another person was enjoying his money. He took an insane delight, too, in making others feel his power. If Mr. Tompkins had obtained the amount, and tendered it to Wolford, two weeks before it was due, the miser would have, in all probability, solicited him to keep it on even better terms than at first obtained; but to appear anxious about the matter, was to foreclose all chances of a renewal.

CHAPTER III

AFTER Wolford had left the store of Mr. Tompkins, the merchant tried to rally his thoughts, and review the whole matter calmly. Thinking, however, did not make him feel much better. He could not see his way clear. If the loan were not paid off, his property would, he had not the least doubt, be sold forthwith, under the mortgage.

"I was a fool ever to build such a house, and involve myself as I have done," he murmured, fretfully. "I wish to my heart it was in the bottom of the sea. Between my wife's extravagance and this accursed usurer, I shall be ruined at last."

This was uttered almost involuntarily, but it had the effect to give his thoughts a new direction. After thinking intensely for some time, he took a long inspiration, compressed his lips tightly as he breathed out again, and then said, half aloud, and in a tone of decision—

"I will not suffer myself to be made a fool of any longer, by wife or usurer. Mrs. John Tompkins will have to lay aside a portion of her dignity, or get some other means of supporting it. I am called a man, and I will be a man."

On the evening of that day, while seated at the tea-table, Mrs. Tompkins said—

"Have you ever noticed, dear, the beautiful equipage of Mrs. Van D–?"

"The what?"