The Bargain with Heaven
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Justin Palmer was twenty-seven years of age. He had come into the possession of fifteen thousand dollars, and was about entering into business for himself. Being a lover of money, he was particularly anxious to succeed. He thought much, therefore, of the prospect before him, and, naturally enough, endeavored so to mature his plans as to make failure next to impossible. While in this state of mind, he fell into company with the minister of the church to which he belonged. During a conversation that passed between them, Palmer referred to the circumstance of his being about to make a start in the world for himself, and expressed confidence in the result.
"I think," said he, "that I understand business well enough to make success certain."
"Nothing is certain in this life," replied the minister. "The Lord sets up whom he will, and whom he will he casts down. Riches, you know, often take to themselves wings and fly away."
"True, but riches fly from many, because they do not take proper care of them."
"Or, you might better say, do not make proper use of them. So many abuse the wealth which comes into their hands, by turning all the streams of benevolence, so to speak, in upon themselves, that Providence diverts the waters into new channels, that the many may enjoy their refreshing influences. I often wonder that thousands who commence business are not as wise as Rawson, whom you know to be one of the wealthiest men we know."
"What particular course did he adopt?" asked Mr. Palmer.
"He commenced business," replied the minister, "at twenty-five, possessing a thousand dollars capital. He was a pious young man, and fully acknowledged all he possessed as a gift from Heaven; and, in view of this, he made a resolution in the beginning, that he would yearly devote one-tenth of his clear income to charitable and religious purposes. This he has faithfully done ever since; yet he has steadily increased in wealth, and is now no the enjoyment of several hundred thousand dollars. There are many, not worth a cent today, who, if they had acknowledged a partnership with Heaven, as Rawson did, would be in the possession of large wealth. If men, under the influence of selfishness, forget the sourceof all their blessings — how can they hope to prosper?"
"And he really gives one-tenth of all his income, yearly, to benevolent purposes?" said Palmer with surprise.
"Yes, so he has himself assured me. He says, that he has always been exceedingly careful in making up his estimates every year, in order to be certain that he does not give away less than his original stipulation; if any error has been committed, he thinks it is against himself."
"And does he attribute his prosperity to the fact of having thus tithed his income?"
"He does; and so do I."
This conversation made a strong impression on Palmer. The leading desire of his life was to accumulate riches; at the same time, a religious education had stamped his mind with a bias to the things of the church, and given him an entire belief in the governing and disposing agency of Divine Providence. "That the earth is the Lord's and the fullness thereof," he fully acknowledged. This being so, it was natural for him to seize upon the minister's suggestion and to turn it over and over again in his mind. To part with a tenth of his income every year, seemed a large sacrifice of property.
"One hundred dollars out of every thousand," said he to himself as he mused on the subject. "It really seems like too much. But the Israelites," thus came in the counter argument in his mind, "were tithed for the support of their church; and this tithing, being of Divine appointment, was of course right. If now, without an ordinance from Heaven, I voluntarily set apart one-tenth of my income for religious and benevolent purposes, it cannot but be pleasing in the sight of God. Were all men to devote as large a share of their yearly increase for the spread of the gospel and the relief of human suffering — the wilderness would soon blossom as a rose, and springs of water abound in the arid deserts. But so few use the bounties of Providence as almoners of Heaven, that it is little wonder few are permitted to accumulate wealth. Yes, Rawson acted wisely and justly. It is not a matter of surprise that he prospered in his basket and in his store. It would have been remarkable had the case been otherwise. I will follow so good an example. I will yearly devote a tenth of my income to the church and to charity."
With this resolution, Palmer commenced business. At the end of the first year he found, after a careful estimate of everything, that his actual profits were just one thousand dollars. They were larger on his gross business transactions; but the expense of fitting up a store, and sundry charges incident to a beginning, were all deducted, thus leaving a balance of one thousand dollars. To decide whether he should call the profits of the year three thousand or one thousand, caused a long and serious debate in his mind. The expense of fitting up his store, it occurred to him, was a necessary investment of capital, and should not be charged out against the profits of the year. But, as his personal expenses had been a thousand dollars, and the clear profit, after the reductions referred to, was no more, he could not decide to place three hundred dollars on interest in the Lord's treasury. So one hundred had to suffice as the tenth of his income. Already he had paid thirty dollars for pew rent, an extra assessment of twenty dollars to make up a deficiency in the minister's salary; five to help constitute said minister a life member in a missionary society; and twenty more had gone during the year in contributions for various religious and benevolent purposes in items too small for enumeration, leaving a balance on hand of fifteen dollars to the account of Heaven. This sum he placed in the hands of the minister, to be disbursed as that individual might, in his better judgment in such matters, determine.
"I have followed your good advice," said Mr. Palmer, in making this disposition of the balance; "my profits this first year have been one thousand dollars, and I have given one hundred to the Lord."
"Well and wisely done, brother Palmer," was replied to this. "Be sure, if you continue to practice, through life, on this system, you will be largely the gainer in worldly goods, besides laying up treasure in Heaven. Remember, that he who gives to the poor, lends to the Lord, and He will repay him again."
Palmer felt much encouraged — in fact, he considered that he held Heaven's guarantee for success. During the second year, everything prospered with him. His business increased beyond his anticipations. His gross profits were over five thousand dollars; but, as there were a good many outstanding accounts, one or two of which were a little doubtful, he was not able to make a clear division of profits, on the side of Heaven, of over one hundred and fifty dollars. He felt a little uneasy at assessing so small a sum, when the profit was, apparently, so much larger, lest God should be offended and withdraw its favor. For a time he debated the question, whether it would not be his wisest policy to assume five thousand dollars as the real profit of the year, and set off five hundred as his offering to the sacred treasury; thus, as it were, securing the cooperation of Heaven in aid of the safe collection of the year's balance of outstanding debts. But when the settlement of the account came, the merchant's faith was hardly strong enough for this. He felt that a bird in the hand was worth two in the bush. Were he to part with the additional three hundred and fifty dollars, he was not absolutely certain that the nine-tenths, his own property, which it represented, would come in.
Prosperity crowned the efforts of the third year, and the merchant paid over four hundred dollars as the tithe of his income. In the fourth year the sum amounted to five hundred dollars, and in the fifth year to seven hundred. Justin Palmer made fewer bad debts than any of his neighbors, at which, as well as at his rapid progress, many wondered. He knew, or thought he knew, the secret; but, strange enough, he felt willing to keep his secret to himself. His real motive for this he did not know, for he was not a man habitually in the practice of examining his motives. To his bargain with Heaven he was strict to the letter, and therefore he felt that, in the eyes of Heaven, he was a faithful steward, and that, while he remained faithful, more and more would be committed to his hands, nine-tenths of which, under the contract, would be absolutely his own, to be held and used exclusively for his own purposes. If he were to impart to his neighbors the secret referred to, many of them, he believed, would adopt the same system, thus dividing the almoners of Heaven's bounty, and, as a consequence, dividing the profits and injuring his prosperity. He was able and willing to dispense thousands every year; and it would be just the same for the interests of religion and charity, as if the work were committed to a dozen, and a vast deal better for himself.
Here was his real motive for being silent on the subject. He did not really know that such was his end, for he was not, as has been said, an investigator of motive; and his self-love, and consequent good opinion of himself, gave him credit for being a man of the purest intentions.
Year after year went by, and Mr. Palmer continued to gather in riches. Of course he gave liberally to the church, and liberally for all benevolent purposes, for he had a large fund to draw upon, and did not feel, when he put his hand into the coffer which contained it, that he was making any sacrifice. He paid over, with scrupulous exactness, into this fund every year, the tenth of his income; and when he drew from it, it was with the same feeling, in a certain sense, that a man draws upon a fund entrusted to his care for the use of another. If he paid over fifty or one hundred dollars for any benevolent purpose, the gift was not accompanied by any unpleasant reluctance. It went freely, and the self-congratulation and pleasure were without an alloy.
Of course, Mr. Palmer was looked upon in the church to which he belonged, and in the general community, as a very benevolent man. He was usually called upon to head subscription papers, and this, when the object seemed to call for it, was usually done in a liberal style. But, in another relations to society, men thought less favorably of the merchant's real kindness and good-will to his fellows. The car-man, the porter, the poor day-laborer — in fact, all who in any way performed a service for Mr. Palmer — found him stingy, even to injustice, in his dealings. With two interests to serve, his own and the interest of Heaven, he felt under obligation to make the most of every transaction, and to save the pennies, that they might accumulate into dollars, in all ways possible. In doing this, as we have intimated, he was not always just to others. In bargaining, he felt a certain right to get the best side, if possible, and he always strove to do so. He was therefore known as a sharp dealer, and merchants who had transactions with him, were accustomed to be on their guard.
In matters of religion, Mr. Palmer was known as a pious man. This, in fact, was a part of his co-partnership. He was a regular church-goer; a partaker of the ordinances; held family worship every morning, and said grace at meals. Moreover, he was a superintendent in a Sabbath-school, the president of a Bible society, and connected, in some way, with half a dozen religious and benevolent institutions, to the support of all of which he liberally contributed. As he grew older and wealthier, men in all ranks deferred to him more and more; and he began, occasionally, to see his name in the newspapers as one of "our liberal and benevolent citizens."
At last, Mr. Palmer was fifty years of age, and worth some two hundred thousand dollars. Annually he paid over, in accordance with his original bargain with Heaven, from two to three thousand dollars. This sum was dispensed somewhat ostentatiously. He liked the reputation for benevolence it brought him; but beyond this, he never went. His ownmoney, as he considered it, was held with a clinging tenacity, made more selfish by the fact that he annually gave, under a liberal contract, all that even God required him to give. No matter how strong or touching the appeal, never did he go one dollar beyond his tithe, never did he give a dollar of that which he looked upon as absolutely his property.
Such was the condition and character of Mr. Palmer when the city of New York, in which he lived, was threatened with a commercial crisis. Hundreds took the alarm, and commenced taking in sail; while others lost, through alarm, their ability to determine correctly any course of action. Among those who calmly viewed the approaching storm, was Mr. Justin Palmer. He had large interests at stake, but he was not alarmed. He felt that his feet were on a rock.
During the twenty-three years that Mr. Palmer had been in business, a change of ministers had twice taken place in the church to which he belonged. The present incumbent was a Mr. Orville, a clear-seeing, deep-thinking, pure-minded, conscientious man. He understood the quality of Mr. Palmer's mind, far better than Mr. Palmer understood it, and did not give him half the credit for benevolence, that he took to himself. It happened, one day, that Mr. Orville dined with the merchant. After dinner, while they sat alone in the parlor, the subject of the threatened collapse in trade was referred to.
"For my part," said Mr. Palmer, "I do not feel any alarm on this score. I have a great deal at stake, to be sure, but I am willing to trust in Providence."
"Our only sure refuge and defense," replied the minister. "To be able to say with the psalmist — 'Though He slays me — yet will I trust in him; is indeed a blessed privilege. Few attain so high a state."
Mr. Palmer saw that he was not understood.
"I don't even anticipate a reverse," said he, in a confident manner.
"Few can say that," replied the minister.
"Because few have laid their worldly prosperity on the same broad basis that I have."
The face of the minister showed that he did not comprehend the merchant's meaning. He looked at his companion in silence.
"My mode of doing business is peculiar," said the merchant. "I started on a different principle from most men. In a word, I have, from the first, appropriated one-tenth of my whole income to religious and benevolent purposes, thus practically acknowledging that all worldly goods are the Lord's, and to be used as gifts from his hand. It is to this fact, more than to any superior business capacity, that I attribute my success in life; and, while I faithfully distribute this tenth of my income — I am in no fear of its diminution."
The minister, instead of expressing gratification at the announcement of this fact, and assenting to the truth of Mr. Palmer's conclusion, sat silent, with his eyes upon the floor.
"Is not my confidence well based?" asked the merchant, who was a little surprised at the coldness of Mr. Orville's manner.
"I do not see, in the reason you give, any guarantee for immunity."
"You don't?"
"No."
"Will God mock me?" There was something indignant in the way this was uttered.
"The Lord regards the eternal good of his creatures, and causes all natural things to subserve that purpose. If to retain your property will best promote your spiritual welfare — you will be permitted to retain it; but if you need the reaction of its loss — be sure that the loss will come. God is a spiritual and eternal being, and regards only spiritual and eternal ends. He does not give wealth to anyone, in consideration of the charitable uses he may make of it; but only because such a condition is better for him, spiritually, than poverty. Many are permitted to enjoy this world's goods for a season — and afterwards made to feel the pressure of adversity; but the first condition was not given as any reward of merit — nor was the other sent in anger as a punishment: both were designed as aids to the soul in its rejection of evil and elevation into good."
These were higher truths than Mr. Palmer had been in the habit of contemplating, and they sounded strangely and unpleasantly in his ears. They were not higher truths than Mr. Orville had preached to his congregation Sabbath after Sabbath; only the merchant's spiritual intelligence had ranged below them. Truth, whenever enunciated, always makes its own impression — is always seen, at a first glance, to be true. Afterwards it may be confirmed or rejected, according to the state of him who hears it. What Mr. Orville said, struck the mind of Mr. Palmer with the jarring force of unwelcome news. Instantly, however, he sought reasons for discrediting the positions assumed.
"I don't know, Mr. Orville," replied the merchant, "that it follows as a consequence that a man's spiritual state determines his external condition. The bounties of Heaven are distributed in the earth through human agencies, and it seems to me that the best steward — will have the largest stewardship. It is because I have acknowledged the Lord as the proprietor of all earthly goods, and distributed liberally of what came into my hands — that I have prospered in my basket and store. At least, so I have always been willing to believe."
"In the order of Providence," said Mr. Orville, speaking seriously, "I have been appointed to minister of the things pertaining to God, in the congregation to which you belong. Your spiritual welfare has, consequently, been committed to my charge, and it is my duty to speak to you, if occasion calls for it, with the utmost plainness. Can you bear it?"
"Oh, certainly! certainly!" replied the merchant. Yet he moved uneasily in his chair, and looked as if he thought the minister was acting strangely.
"You seem," said Mr. Orville, "to have been laboring, for years, under a very serious error."
"How so?" quickly inquired the merchant.
"In imagining, that because you gave a tenth of your income for pious and charitable purposes — the Lord prospered you as a reward. But, depend upon it, my brother, no suchbargain with God can be made. You hold your wealth by a far different tenure. The earth is the Lord's and the fullness thereof. His are the cattle upon a thousand hills. He stands not, therefore, in such need of man's service as to give him nine-tenths of all this, in consideration of his faithful distribution of a tithe.
"Your spiritual good is as much regarded, as the spiritual good of the doorkeeper of the house of God; and your wealth is given for your spiritual well-being, as much as thepoverty of the other is given for his. In the progress of life, if reversed circumstances will be best for each of you — then a change will certainly come. It is not because a manabuses his wealth that it is sometimes taken from him; nor because he uses it charitably that it is left in his possession. But he retains or loses it — according as it best serves the ends of Divine Providence in saving him from baser evils, or raising him into higher states of good."
"Then the Divine Providence does not take into consideration the amount of good a man who rightly uses his wealth may do in the world."
"One individual, be he poor or rich, is as much under the care of God as another. His external condition is nothing, only so far as it affects his internal state. As the Bible says,The earth is the Lord's and the fullness thereof; and he can always cause such a distribution of the bounties of nature, in all individual cases, as will best serve His great and good designs in saving men eternally. Be assured, Mr. Palmer, that if the possession of wealth hurt your spiritual state — you will not be permitted to retain it, though you distribute one-half instead of one-tenth of your income; and that it does hurt you thus, pardon me for saying, with all plainness, I believe."
"Mr. Orville!" exclaimed the merchant, in surprise.
"I only give utterance to my solemn convictions."
"Will you explain what you mean?"
"Your present conversation illustrates this. You seem to consider that you have made a bargain for a certain amount of worldly goods, to which you have an absolute title, even against all the claims of Heaven itself. For, it is plain, that if you were to lose your property, you would feel that you had been dealt with unfairly. Under the system you have pursued, active benevolence has not flowed from a spring of good-will to mankind issuing from your heart; but your charity has been a regular business transaction, in whichyou were most largely interested. Therefore, it has not, in your case, borne with it a double blessing. How much do you think under your system you have given away?"
"I have kept the account accurately. In twenty-three years I have distributed over forty thousand dollars. Last year, my business paid fifty thousand dollars, and I gave away five thousand. It was the best year I have had. Every year there is an increase."
"Over forty thousand dollars offered on the shrine of piety and charity," said the minister, "and yet the giver of all this unblessed by a truly generous impulse! All a matter ofcontract! All done for a selfish and worldly ends! Mr. Palmer, my heart aches at the thought!"
It is not strange that the merchant was offended; nor that he replied in language which closed the subject at once. But he did not feel confident as before. The language of Mr. Orville carried with it the force of truth, and, as the words fixed themselves in his memory, the truth thus conveyed, dimly though it shone in the darkened chamber of his mind — made enough of error plain to create doubt and consequent uneasiness. If it were indeed as the minister said, then he did not hold his wealth by the inalienable right he had supposed. His feet were not planted upon an immovable rock. His bargain with Heaven was far from being valid. With more anxious eyes, he surveyed the approaching storm, and marked the progress it made. He was no longer certain that Heaven was on his side, and, therefore, felt bound to look more carefully after his own interests. A reef here, and a reef there, were caught in his sails. His chart was examined more frequently, and his observations taken with greater care. Yet, for all, he felt unsafe; and when the storm began to break, and his vessel to feel some of its violence, his heart was oppressed with anxiety. Notwithstanding he had paid forty thousand dollars to Heaven as a kind of premium, for which he was to be insured against all adversity, he was conscious of a flaw in his policy, and, therefore, deeply troubled.
At last, failures began daily to occur in all the commercial cities. Men who had been considered as strongly-rooted as the century-old oak, bent and broke like a willow sapling. A panic pervaded all business circles. Chartered money institutions, and private bankers and money-lenders, taking the alarm, increased the evil by a restriction of the line of discounts. For some weeks, not a failure affected Mr. Palmer, and his bank account showed a handsome surplus. He was gaining confidence, and beginning to feel the rock, upon which his feet had rested so long, steadfast under him again — when he was startled one day by a protest on a discounted note of ten thousand dollars. The house by which it had been given, was considered one of the safest in the city.
Hoping that there might be some mistake, Mr. Palmer started forth for certain information. He obtained it from the first person he met. It was too true — the house had failed, and the failure was said not only to be a bad one, but likely to involve three or four other firms, each of which was more or less indebted to our merchant. In a word, the yielding of this house, bid fair to involve Mr. Palmer in losses equal to the whole amount of interest paid to Heaven, for prosperity during a period of nearly twenty-five years! It was a terrible shock, and, for a short time, his mind was prostrate under it. But, he had still large possessions left, and he aroused himself to struggle for their retention.
But he struggled in an unequal contest. There were fearful odds against him. What he had supposed to be a rock under his feet — proved now to be a heap of loose, smooth stones, which yielded, turned, and fell away — the more he strove to stand erect and firm. Shock after shock came, loss after loss was sustained; every new disaster in the commercial world — had a greater or less injurious effect upon the merchant, until, in the end, his name was among those dishonored on Exchange.
From the day of his conversation with the minister, Mr. Palmer had not been to church. When Sunday morning came, he was in no state for attending worship. Business anxieties on the one hand, and distrust of God on the other, brought his mind into spiritual darkness. There was besides, a latent feeling of indignation in his heart, as if he had been unfairly treated. This increased to something like anger, when the shock of the first disaster smote him. Observing his absence from church, Mr. Orville called to see him once or twice, but found him in a state of mind so adverse to religious impressions, that he did not attempt anything more than a conversation on general subjects. When, however, he learned the final disaster, he felt it to be his duty to visit, and offer such sustaining advice as it might be in his power to give. On entering the house of the merchant, he found him sunk in almost hopeless despondency. His property had nearly all passed from his hands. Little beyond the dwelling in which he lived remained, of over two hundred thousand dollars.
"The Lord gives — and the Lord takes away," said Mr. Orville, when allusion was made to the sad reverse the merchant had sustained.
A silent, but expressive and indignant rejection of the sentiment, was given by Mr. Palmer. There was no resignation in his heart.
"Think, my brother," resumed the minister, after a pause, "of the words of Him who spoke as never man spoke, when he said that 'not even a sparrow falls to the ground unnoticed' and then added, 'You are of more value than many sparrows.'"
"I have not deserved this," said the merchant bitterly.
"Hundreds of others are involved in a like ruin," replied the minister. "Are you better than they?"
To this, there was an answer. Mr. Palmer felt that he was better than the mass around him. Had he not given away over forty thousand dollars of his substance in public charity? Who was there, who could say as much? And this was his reward! "Let me get hold of money again," he said in his heart, "and see if I don't take better care of it! Give me back my forty thousand dollars, and I'll snap my fingers at the world!"
It was in vain that Mr. Orville sought to make an impression on his mind. The time had not yet come for purification from dross, although the crucible was in the fire.
Mr. Palmer had a son, now in his twenty-fifth year, who had been liberally educated. But the fact that his father was wealthy, left his mind without a stimulant to use rightly, the fine abilities he possessed. He had, more from the name of the thing, than with a view to its practice, studied law, and been admitted to the bar. But though two years had passed since he took an office, and assumed the appearance of attending to business, he was yet a caseless lawyer; and at his own door, lay the fault. With nothing to do, and much money to spend — Edward Palmer was in a dangerous position; far more dangerous than his father imagined. There were plenty of young men to lead away into evil habits, a fine, generous young fellow like himself, who had usually a well-lined pocket, and time enough for all purposes on his hands.
The oldest daughter of Mr. Palmer was, likewise, in a most critical position. A single step more — and wretchedness for life would be her dowery. A young man, who had neither conscience, sincerity, nor love for any object out of himself — had succeeded in gaining her affections. He was connected with a wealthy family, and had some property in his own right, with large expectations from an uncle. His advances had been well received by the family, and an engagement was about being made, when the storm broke with terrific fury over the head of the astonished merchant.
To both Edward and Grace Palmer, the misfortunes of their father came with a severe personal shock. The one was thrown upon his own resources, to struggle for self-sustenance — and the other deserted by a lover upon whom her heart had lavished its best affections.
In the bosom of Edward Palmer, there were many good impulses, which only needed a proper stimulant to come into activity. If he mingled too often with the idle and the wicked, it was not so much from a naturally perverse inclination, as the result of circumstances. When the sad reverses came which reduced his family from wealth to comparative poverty, and when he saw the depression and suffering of his father — he felt inspired by a generous desire to aid him in all possible ways. But he had not a single case in court. In thinking earnestly over the matter, it occurred to him that, in the breaking up of his father's business, and the loss of heavy amounts by other failures, much might be saved if the right legal measures were adopted and pressed through with vigor and decision. On first approaching his father on this subject, Mr. Palmer exhibited entire indifference.
"No — no — " said he, half impatiently — "nothing can be saved. The wreck is complete."
The truth was, Mr. Palmer had little confidence in his son's ability to do anything useful. He had become discouraged in regard to him. But as Edward urged the matter with earnestness and strong manifestation of interest, the father began to listen.
"There is one matter," said he, at last, "which needs looking into. I'm not satisfied with the assignment of a certain creditor; and, if you will take the matter in hand, you perhaps may save a thousand or two dollars. And even that small sum, will be something now."
Moved by a better impulse, Edward prosecuted, with an intelligence that surprised his father, inquiries into every particular of the case submitted to his investigation, and he was not long in discovering that the assignment had been fraudulent, and would have to be broken. In the second arrangement, his father would be benefitted at least three or four thousand dollars.
The success of this first attempt, gave his heart a new energy, and encouraged his father to submit to his legal eyes, other transactions, and to place in his hands for prosecution, a large amount of claims abandoned as hopeless. Two years of vigorous application to the business of his father, in which the native abilities of the young man were daily developing, and in which he was almost constantly before the courts, resulted in a reserve of over twenty thousand dollars from the wreck, which would inevitably have been lost.
And, better than all, these two years of close application, fixed the young man's destiny as a useful citizen for life, thus saving him from a vortex of ruin into which he must inevitably have fallen. When he had finished prosecuting the last case of his father, he found himself with other cases on hand, and the prospect of a gradually increasing and profitable business. The false friends of his days of sunshine, had all left him like leaves falling away in the autumn; and new associates, made in circles of business, influenced him in another and higher direction.
Thus it was with the son. This had been the saving effect of adverse circumstances. As for Grace — when the bitterness of her first grief at the loss of her lover had left her eyes with a clearer vision, she saw the young man's character in a new light, and with a subdued, yet aching heart, looked up and was thankful.
Nor had Mr. Palmer passed through two years of severe trial, without marking the effect upon his children; nor without some changes in his own views of Providence. He was again in business, though it was a moderate one — the returns only sufficient to meet a greatly reduced style of living. But he was no longer a murmurer at the course of events; and no longer felt like charging upon Heaven a violation of its contract. One evening, while sitting with his family, he made some remark upon the calamities he had sustained.
"But for them," said Edward, "calamities of a worse nature, I fear, would have visited us! In my own case, ruin would have been almost inevitable. I had become surrounded with idle and wicked companions, who would have led me away into debasing evils. The necessity for exertion saved me. And do you know that Eldridge, to whom Grace was about being betrothed, has this day been detected in a crime that will, in all probability, send him to the State Prison for years. How we have escaped!"
Mr. Palmer loved Grace with more than common tenderness, which had gained strength since his misfortunes; for pressure upon this household flower had made its perfume sweeter.
"Oh! such an escape!" he half murmured to himself, as his eyes glanced involuntarily upward. There was a more genuine feeling of thankfulness in his heart, than he had known for years. Any evil, he felt, was light — compared to the ruin of his son, and the destruction of his daughter's happiness. The ruin of a fortune might be repaired; but for the ruin of asoul — the crushing of a heart — there was no remedy.
After a long absence from church, Mr. Palmer again appeared in the congregation. His countenance was more subdued; yet his pious observance was far from being as ostentatious as before. When Mr. Orville visited him, which he did soon after his reappearance at church, he found him in a far different state of mind than at their last interview.
"It was for the best; I see it and I feel it," was his brief allusion to the past. "The loss of wealth was a great good — instead of a great evil. The bargain with Heaven was all of my own making, and that it did not hold good, is no cause of wonder. Spiritually, it was doing me a great injury; and the effect of wealth upon my children, was of the most disastrous character. God, in His own good time, rebuked and corrected me. It is all for the best. I can understand now, how the Divine Providence regards spiritual and not natural ends, in its dealings with men. This was once to me a strange doctrine, but I see it now in manifest light. Yes, let me repeat, all was for the best!"
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