“‘Delighted!’ says the goney.
“‘Well,’ said Mr Astor, ‘I am tired to death looking after it; if you will relieve me and do my work, I’ll give you what I get out of it myself.’
“‘Done!’ said the man, takin’ off his hat, and bowin’ down to the ground. ‘I am under a great obligation to you; depend upon it you will get a good account of it.’
“‘I have no doubt of it,’ said John Jacob. ‘Do your part faithfully’ (‘Never fear me,’ said the clerk) ‘and honestly, and I will fulfil mine. All I get out of it myself is my board and clothing, and you shall have the same.”
“Ah! my friend,” the preacher might say, “how much wisdom there is in John Jacob Astor’s remark. What more has the Queen of England, or the richest peer in the land, out of all their riches than their board and clothing. ‘So don’t repine, my friend. Cheer up! I will come and fast on canvas-back duck with you to-morrow, for it’s Friday; and whatever lives on aquatic food is fishy—a duck is twice-laid fish. A few glasses of champaine at dinner, and a cool bottle or two of claret after, will set you all right again in a jiffy.”
If a man’s wife races off and leaves him, which ain’t the highest compliment he can receive, he should visit him; but it’s most prudent not to introduce the subject himself. If broken-heart talks of it, minister shouldn’t make light of it, for wounded pride is mighty tender, but say it’s a dreadful thing to leave so good, so kind, so indulgent, so liberal, so confidin’ a man as you, if the case will bear it (in a general way it’s a man’s own fault); and if it won’t bear it, why then there really is a guilty man, on whom he can indulge himself, to expend a few flowers of speech. And arter restin’ here awhile, he should hint at the consolation that is always offered, “of the sea having better fish than ever was pulled out of it,” and so on.
Well, the whole catalogue offers similar topics, and if a man will, while kindly, conscientiously, and strictly sticking to the truth, offer such consolation as a good man may, taking care to remember that manner is everything, and all these arguments are not only no good, but do harm if the misfortunate critter is rubbed agin the grain; he will then prepare the sufferer to receive the only true consolation he has to offer—the consolation of religion. At least, that’s my idea.
Now, instead of that, if he gets hold of a sinner, he first offends his delicacy, and then scares him to death. He tells him to confess all the nasty particulars of the how, the where, the when, and the who with. He can’t do nothing till his curiosity is satisfied, general terms won’t do. He must have all the dirty details. And then he talks to him of the devil, an unpronouncible place, fire and brimstone, and endless punishment. And assures him, if ever he hopes to be happy hereafter, he must be wretched for the rest of his life; for the evangelical rule is, that a man is never forgiven up to the last minute when it can’t be helped. Well, every man to his own trade. Perhaps they are right and I am wrong. But my idea is you can coax, but can’t bully folks. You can win sinners, but you can’t force them. The door of the heart must be opened softly, and to do that you must be the hinge and the lock.
Well, to get back to my story, and I hardly know where I left off, I think the poor gall was speakin’ of Indians in a way that indicated she felt mortified at her descent, or that somehow or somehow else, there was a sore spot there. Well, having my own thoughts about the wounds of the heart and so on, as I have stated, I made up my mind I must get at the secret by degrees, and see whether my theory of treatment was right or not.
Sais I, “Miss, you say these sort of things are bartered at the north-west for others of more use. There is one thing though I must remark, they never were exchanged for anything half so beautiful.”