It now appeared that at a very early period of life, when a clerk in the office of old Hickman's agent, he had committed a forgery. It was for a small sum, and only done in anticipation of meeting the bill by his salary due a few weeks later. So far the fraud was palliated by the intention. By some mischance the document fell into the possession of Dr. Hickman, whose name it falsely bore. He immediately took steps to trace its origin, and having succeeded, he sent for Gleeson. When the youth, pale and terror-stricken by suspicion, made his appearance, he was amazed that, instead of finding a prosecutor ready prepared for his ruin, he discovered a benevolent patron, who, having long watched the zeal and assiduity with which he discharged his duties, desired to be of use to him in life. Hickman told him that if he were disposed to make the venture on his own account, he would use his influence to procure him some small agencies, and even assist him with funds, to make advances to those landlords who might employ him. The interview lasted long. There was much excellent advice and wise admonition on one side, profuse expression of gratitude and lasting fidelity on the other. “Very well, very well,” said old Hickman, at the close of a very devoted speech, in which Gleeson professed the most attached and the most honorable motives,—for he was not at all aware that his bill was known of,—“I am not ignorant of mankind; they are rarely, if ever, very bad or very good; they can be occasionally faithful to their friends; but there is one thing they are always—careful of themselves. See this,”—here he took from his pocket-book the forged paper, and held it before the almost sinking youth,—“there is what can bring you to the gallows any day! Is this the first time?”
“It is, so help me—” cried he, falling on his knees.
“Never mind swearing. I believe you. And the last also?”
“And the last!”
“I see it must be, by the date,” rejoined Hickman.
“I can pay it, sir; I have the money ready—on Tuesday—”
“Never mind that,” replied Hickman, folding it up, and replacing it in the pocket-book. “You shall pay me in something better than money,—in gratitude. Come and dine with me alone to-day, and we 'll talk over the future.”
It has never been our taste to present pictures of depravity to our readers; we would more willingly turn from them, or, where that is impossible, make them as sketchy as may be. It will be sufficient, then, if we say that Gleeson's whole career was the plan and creation of Hickman. The rigid and scrupulous honor, the spotless decorum, the unshaken probity, were all devices to win public confidence and esteem. That they were eminently successful, the epithet of “honest Tom Gleeson,” by which he was universally known, is the guarantee. The union of such qualities with consummate skill and the most unwearied zeal soon made him the most distinguished man in his walk, and made his services not only an evidence of success, but of a rectitude in obtaining success that men of character prized still more highly.
Possessed of the titles of immense estates, invested with unbounded confidence by the owners, cognizant of every legal flaw that could excite uneasiness, aware of every hitch and strait of their circumstances, he was less the servant than the master of those who employed him.
It was a period when habits of extravagance prevailed to the widest extent. The proprietors of estates deemed spending their incomes their only duty, and left its cares to the agents. The only reproach, then, ever laid to Gleeson's door was that when a question of a sale or a loan was agitated, honest Tom's scruples were often a most troublesome impediment to his less scrupulous employer. In fact, Gleeson stood before the public as a kind of guardian of estated property,—the providence of dowagers, widows, and younger children!