Chit-chat, or Short Tales in Short Words

by Maria Elizabeth Budden

The gentleman, however, talked glibly of his amanuensis; and how much the situation had been desired. "A young fellow—a gentlemanly young fellow—in the office, would have been mighty glad of it."—"And you engaged him?" observed one of his hearers.—"Why, no; I am so very particular. I cannot get exactly what I want."—"Talents, industry, integrity, and no pay!" whispered one who knew him well. The former respondent turned to the whisperer, and from him obtained an account so favourable to Paul, that he at once recommended him to an acquaintance of his, just then seeking additional aid. Paul was cheered with the prospect, spoke of it in all the buoyant hilarity of youth, and called on the merchant with his letter of introduction. The merchant's partner had, the night before, engaged an assistant! "Teazing disappointment!" cried Paul.—"Like a blank in the lottery," archly observed Clement.—"No," said Paul: "for even the disappointment may lead to some favourable result."—"Teach patience! Very true, Paul."—"Even in that, do good; but what I meant, was, that benevolent persons, hearing of my wish and my disappointment, might be instructed how to serve me."—"This earth being so loaded with good men!"—"There is a fair sprinkling of them, among all classes."—"Of which I have had notable proof. Do not be angry, Paul; but I have been doing all in my power to borrow the two hundred pounds. Not a farthing can I obtain."—"How should you, when you have no assurance of payment to offer!"—"But were it never paid,—to a rich man, the paltry sum!"—"Fair and softly, Clement! You talked of borrowing; and borrowing implies repaying."—"Ah! you are a quiz, dear Paul, and ever will be; so, good bye."

The merchant regretted the disappointment he had caused: he called upon Paul—saw him at his studies,—called again, when he was not at home, and heard traits of his character from his host and hostess. He became interested, exerted himself,—obtained an engagement;—and Paul, in the fourth month of his search, found himself installed in the desired avocation. The remuneration was not large, but it was not to be scorned; for eight months' close nightly study brought him in the sum of fifty pounds.

"Fifty pounds, and as much more the amount of my savings!—Half the desired sum! Ah! Fanny—ah! my dear mother!"

One twelvemonth had been passed in the laborious accumulation! But it was accumulated! How much sweeter for the toil and self-denial it had cost, let no one rashly measure. He who has tried and proved can only know.

Next came the happiness, the exquisite happiness, of presenting the money to the dear home circle. Paul was seated, lost in agreeable reasonings, when Clement rushed into the room. "A prize! A prize! Dear Paul, a prize!"—"Not before this?"—"Oh, I have bought and sold, and exchanged: I cannot tell you the long story: and now it is a prize."—"Of how much?"—"I know not. Talbot heard it announced a prize; but will not tell me the amount. Come with me to the office;—let us together hear the good news!"

They went to the office,—the ticket was a prize of—twenty pounds! Clement burst into a fury of rage, and rushed forth, he knew not whither. Paul hastened to follow, and pacify him. This was no easy task. On the certain anticipation of a high prize, Clement had indulged himself in countless petty luxuries. Dress,—public amusements,—pleasures of the table. In a moment, he saw himself hopeless and pennyless. He abused lotteries, and prizes,—cursed his rash folly, and railed against all mankind. "I am the most unfortunate dog in the world!—Never successful, even in a virtuous design!" He paused not to consider if the means were as meritorious as the aim. "Not even to help my poor mother, my dear sister, am I fortunate! Luck, I see, goes by Fate,—I am not doomed to be lucky! Even this detestable five pounds, so miserably gained, I owe to my tailor!"—"Be thankful you have it for him!" said Paul. "The ticket might have been a blank."—"I wish it had—and then the thing would have been complete." Clement laughed bitterly.

By degrees, Paul succeeded in calming him; and, a few days afterwards, gently suggested what he had collected, and proposed that the money should be remitted in their joint names.—"No, no, no!" Clement would permit no such arrangement. "Accept thanks he had not earned,—impossible!"—"But, twins as we are, so alike in all points, the act of one is the act of the other," argued Paul. Clement shook his head. "Would that we were alike,—that we had been alike,—and then, instead of one hundred pounds, we should have had two, for I could have saved, earned as much as you."—"Perhaps you might not have obtained a situation, as I luckily did," said Paul.—"Yes, I should: I should have got something, had I persevered as you did."—"Come, come!" said Paul; "there is no use in talking of the past, of what is quite beyond recal. Let us turn our minds to the future. Next year, you can pay me; so let me lend you fifty pounds now."—"Generous, ingenious brother!" cried Clement; "I should not be worthy of your liberal confidence, were I to accept it on such terms. No, Paul: this year, I suffer rightly by my folly; next year, I will deserve a better fate."

Paul tried, but in vain, to alter this resolution; so it was settled that he should himself take the money to his mother, and, in his own name and Clement's, promise the advance of another hundred pounds next year.