|
The owner of these eleven acres had been for some
months in the furnace of pecuniary affliction. He was going the way of
nine-tenths of all the business flesh within the circle of my
acquaintance. As a purchaser I did not seek him, nor to his
representative did myself or my wife let fall a single word indicating
that we were pleased with the property. When fifteen hundred dollars were
named as the price I did indulge in some expression of surprise, thinking
it was quite enough. Discovering subsequently that the owner was an old
city acquaintance, I dropped in one morning to see him, and for an hour
we talked over the times, the markets, the savage rates demanded for
money, and how the spring business was likely to turn out. On real estate
I was mute as a mouse, except giving it as my decided opinion that some
holders were asking greater prices than they would be likely to realize.
This side-thrust brought my friend out. He mentioned
his house and eleven acres, and eagerly inquired if I did not know of some
one who would buy. With as much indifference as I could assume,
I asked his terms. He told me with great frankness that he was
compelled to sell, and that his need of money was so great, that he might
possibly do so whether the debtor got anything or not. He urged me to find
him a purchaser, and finally gave me the refusal of the place for a few
days.
Now, the plain truth was, that my anxiety to buy was
quite as great as his was to sell. During the next week we met several
times, when he invariably inquired as to the prospect of a purchaser. But
I had no encouragement to offer. When I thought I had fought shy long
enough, I surprised him by saying that I knew of a purchaser who was ready
to take the property at a thousand dollars. He sat down and indulged in
some figuring, then for a few moments was silent, then inquired if the
offer was a cash one, and when the money could be had. I replied, the
moment his deed was ready for delivery.
It was evident that the offer of instant payment
determined him to sell at so low a price—cash was everything. Opening his
desk, he took out a deed for the property, ready to execute whenever the
grantee's name, the date and the consideration should have been inserted,
handed it to me, and said he accepted the offer, only let him have the
money as quickly as possible.
I confess to both exultation and surprise. I had
secured an unmistakable bargain The ready-rnade deed surprised me, but it
showed the owner's necessities, and that he had been prepared to let the
property go at the first decent offer. The natural
selfishness of human nature has since induced me to believe that I
could have bought for even less, had I not been so precipitate. His
searches and brief of title were also ready: a single day or two was
enough to bring them up—he had been determined to sell.
The transaction seemed to involve a succession of
surprises. His turn for a new one came when he found that I had inserted
my wife's name in the deed. So, paying him his thousand dollars, I
returned with the deed to my wife, telling her that she had now a home of
her own; that, come what might, the property was hers; that the laws of
New Jersey secured it to her, and that no subsequent destitution of mine
could wrest it from her. This little act of consideration was as
gratifying a surprise to her as any that either buyer or seller had
experienced. If rejoiced at my having secured the place, it gave to it a
new interest in her estimation, and fixed and made permanent the
attachment she had spontaneously acquired for it. Her gratification only
served to increase my own.
It is thus that small acts of kindness make life
pleasant and desirable. Every dark object is made light by them, and many
scalding tears of sorrow are thus easily brushed away. When the heart is
sad, and despondency sits at the entrance of the soul, a little kindness
drives despair away, and makes the path cheerful and pleasant. Who then
will refuse a kind act? It costs the giver nothing—just as this did; but
it is invaluable to the receiver. No broader
acres, no more stately mansion, whether in town or country, could now
tempt my wife to leave this humble refuge. Here she has been ever happy,
and here, I doubt not, she will end her earthly career.
In a week the house was vacated and cleansed, and we
were in full possession. My wife was satisfied, my children were
delighted, and I had realized the dream of twenty years! One strong fact
forced itself on my attention the first night I passed under my new roof.
The drain of three hundred dollars per annum into the pocket of my city
landlord had been stopped. My family received as safe a shelter for the
interest of a thousand dollars, as he had given them for the interest of
five thousand! The feeling of relief from this unappeasable demand was
indescribable. Curiously enough, my wife voluntarily suggested that the
same feeling of relief had been presented to her. But in addition to this
huge equivalent for the investment of a thousand dollars, there was that
which might be hereafter realized from the cultivation of eleven acres of
land.
This lodgment was effected on the first of April,
1855. When all our household fixings had been snugly arranged, and I took
my first walk over my little plantation, on a soft and balmy morning, my
feeling of contentment seemed to be perfect. I knew that I was not rich,
but it was certain that I was not poor. In contrasting my condition with
that of others, both higher and lower upon fortune's ladder, I found a
thousand causes for congratulation, but none for regret. With all his
wealth, Rothschild must be satisfied with the
same sky that was spread over me. He cannot order a private sunrise, that
he may enjoy it with a select circle of friends, nor add a single glory to
the gorgeous spectacle of the setting sun. The millionaire could not have
more than his share of the pure atmosphere that I was breathing, while the
poorest of all men could have as much. God only can give all these, and to
many of the poor he has thus given. All that is most valuable can be had
for nothing. They come as presents from the hand of an indulgent Father,
and neither air nor sky, nor beauty, genius, health, or strength, can be
bought or sold. Whatever may be one's condition in life, the great art is
to learn to be content and happy, indulging in no feverish longings for
what we have not, but satisfied and thankful for what we have.
|
