Who Are Happiest? and Other Stories

"Ah! I was not aware of that. I didn't know that you had any claims upon him as an almoner of heaven."

"My claims are those of common humanity. But you shall know all, and judge for yourself. I am a poor man"–

"Well"–

"With a wife and four children, whom I love as tenderly as Clinton, or any other purse-proud oppressor of the poor can possibly love his wife and children. They are dependent for daily bread upon my daily labour. With the sweat of my brow, I keep hunger from my door, and cold from entering therein."

"An independent man," said the other.

"Yes, an independent man; as independent as any nabob in the land."

"Do let the nabobs alone," was smilingly answered to this. "If you are independent, why care for them? Why permit yourself to be fretted because others are blessed by Providence with a greater abundance of worldly goods? There is danger, in this thing, of going beyond the nabobs, and arraigning the wisdom of Him who setteth up whom he will, and whose bounty feeds even the young ravens. So go on with your story. What is the crime that Mr. Clinton has committed against you and humanity?"

"I am a poor man, as I said."

"I know you are; a hard-working, industrious, but poor man."

"And as such, entitled to some consideration."

"Entitled to a fair return for your labour, in all cases."

"Of course I am; and to some favour, in the distribution of employment, when I present equal capacity with those who are less needy than myself."

"What do you mean by that?"

"A plain story makes all plain. Well: you are aware that Mr. Clinton is about building a new dam for his mills?"

"I am."

"And that he asked for proposals?"

"Yes."

"I tried to get the contract."

"You!" There was more surprise in this ejaculation than the friend had meant to convey.

"Certainly! Why not?" was petulantly remarked.

"Of course you had a perfect right to do so?"

"Of course I had; and of course my bid, though the lowest, was thrown out, and the bid of Jackson, who manages to monopolize every thing in the village, taken. He and Clinton are leagued together, and the offer for proposals was only a sham."

"That's assuming a good deal, friend Maxwell."

"No, it isn't. It's the truth, and nothing else but the truth. He's the jackal, and Clinton's the lion."

"You speak without reflection," said the friend, mildly.

"I'm not blind. I see how things are worked."

"You say your bid was lower than Jackson's? How do you know this? I thought his bid was not publicly known."

"I knew it; and, in fact, knew what it was to be before I sent in my proposals, and was, therefore, able to go below it. The truth is, I managed, between you and I, to find out just what every man was going to bid, and then struck a mark below them all, to make sure of the job. I wanted a chance, and was determined to have it at all hazards."

"I hardly think your mode of procedure was fair," said the friend; "but waiving that, could you have made any thing by the job, at your bidding?"

"Oh, yes, I'd have made something—more, a good deal, than I can make by day's work. The fact is, I set my heart on that job as a stepping stone to contract work; and am bitterly disappointed at its loss. Much good may it do both Jackson and Clinton. I shouldn't be much sorry to see the new dam swept away by the next freshet."

"Why, Maxwell! This is not the spirit of a Christian man. Envy, malice—these are what the Bible condemns in the plainest terms; and for these sins, the poor have quite as much to answer for as the rich—and perhaps more. If you go from church on the Sabbath with no better thoughts than these, I fear you are quite as far from the Kingdom of Heaven as you have supposed Mr. Clinton to be."

"Good day," said Maxwell, turning off abruptly from his friend, and taking a path that led by a nearer course than the one in which they were walking, to his home.

A few weeks later, the person with whom Maxwell thus conversed, had occasion to transact some business with Mr. Clinton. He had rendered him a bill for work done, and called to receive payment.

"You've made a mistake in your bill, Mr. Lee," said Clinton.

"Ah? Are you certain?"

"You can examine for yourself. I find an error of twenty dollars in the additions."

"Then you only owe me sixty dollars?" said Lee, with a disappointment in his tones that he could not conceal.

"Rather say that I owe you a hundred, for the mistake is in your favour. The first column in the bill adds up fifty, instead of thirty dollars."

"Let me examine it." Lee took the bill, and added up the column three times before he felt entirely satisfied. Then he said,

"So it does! Well, I should never have been the wiser if you had only paid me the eighty dollars called for by the bill. You might have retained your advantage with perfect safety."

Lee said this on the impulse of the moment. He instantly saw a change in Mr. Clinton's countenance, as if he were slightly offended.

"Oh, no; not with safety," was gravely replied.

"I never should have found it out."

"But there is coming a day, with every man, when the secrets of his heart will stand revealed. If not now, it would then appear that I had wronged you out of twenty dollars."

"True! true! But all men don't think of this."

"No one is more fully aware of that than I am. It is for me, however, to live in the present so as not to burden my future with shame and repentance. Knowingly, Mr. Lee, I would not wrong any man out of a single dollar. I may err, and do err, like other men; for, to err is human."

After the expression of such sentiments, Lee felt curious to know what Mr. Clinton thought of, and how he felt towards Maxwell. So he said, after referring to the new mill-dam in the process of erection—

"You didn't take the lowest bid for its construction."

"I took the lowest competent bid."

"Then you do not think Maxwell competent to do the work?"