But with this prosperity came no disposition on the part of Mr. Jenkins to pay off his old obligations. “They used the law against me,” he would say, when the subject pressed itself upon his mind, as it would sometimes do, “and now let them get what the law will give them.”
There was a curious provision in the law by which Jenkins had been freed from all the claims of his creditors against him; and this provision is usually incorporated in all similar laws, though for what reason it is hard to tell. It is only necessary to promise to pay a claim thus annulled, to bring it in full force against the debtor. If a man owes another a hundred dollars, and by economy and self-denial succeeds in saving twenty dollars and paying it to him, he becomes at once liable for the remaining eighty dollars, unless the manner of doing it be very guarded, and is in danger of a prosecution, although unable to pay another cent. A prudent man, who has once been forced into the unhappy alternative of taking the benefit of the insolvent law, is always careful, lest, in an unguarded moment, he acknowledge his liability to some old creditor, before he is fully able to meet it. Anxious as he is to assure this one and that one of his desire and intention to pay them if ever in his power, and to say to them that he is struggling early and late for their sakes as well as his own, his lips must remain sealed. A word of his intentions and all his fond hopes of getting fairly on his feet again are in danger of shipwreck.
Understanding the binding force of a promise of this kind, made in writing, or in the presence of witnesses, certain of the more selfish or less manly and honorable class of creditors, are ever seeking to extort by fair or foul means, from an unfortunate debtor who has honestly given up every thing, an acknowledgment of his indebtedness to them, in order that they may reap the benefit of his first efforts to get upon his feet again. Many and many an honest but indiscreet debtor, has been thrown upon his back once more, from this cause, and all his hopes in life blasted forever. The means of approach to a debtor in this situation are many and various. “Do you think you will ever be able to do any thing on that old account?” blandly asked, in the presence of a third party, is answered by, “I hope so. But, at present, it takes every dollar I can earn for the support of my family.” This is sufficient—the whole claim is in full force. In the course of a month or two, perhaps in a less period, a sheriff’s writ is served, and the poor fellow’s furniture, or small stock in trade, is seized, and he broken all up again. To have replied—“You have no claim against me,” to the insidious question, seemed in the mind of the poor, but honest man, so much like a public confession that he was a rogue, that he could not do it. And yet this was his only right course, and he should have taken it firmly. Letters are often written, calling attention to the old matter, in which are well timed allusions to the debtor’s known integrity of character, and willingness to pay every dollar he owes in the world, if ever able. Such letters should never be answered, for the answer will be almost sure to contain something, that, in a court of justice, will be construed into an acknowledgment of the entire claim. In paying off old accounts that the law has canceled, which we think every man should do if in his power, the acknowledgment of indebtedness never need go further than the amount paid at any time. Beyond this, no creditor who does not wish to oppress, will ask a man to go. If any seek a further revival of the old claim, let the debtor beware of them; and also, let him be on his guard against him who, in any way, alludes either in writing or personally, to the previous indebtedness.
But we have digressed far enough. Mr. Jenkins, we are sorry to say, was not of that class of debtors who never consider an obligation morally canceled. The law once on his side, he fully made up his mind to keep it forever between him and all former transactions. Sundry were the attempts made to get old claims against him revived, after it was clearly understood that he was getting to be worth money, but Jenkins was a rogue at least, and rogues are always more wary than honest men.
Among the creditors of Jenkins was a man named Gooding, who had loaned him five hundred dollars, and lost three hundred of it—two-fifths being all that was realized from the debtor’s effects. Gooding pitied sincerely the misfortunes of Jenkins, and pocketed his loss without saying a hard word, or laying the weight of a finger upon his already too heavily burdened shoulders. But it so happened that as Jenkins commenced going up in the world, Gooding began to go down. At the time when the former was clearly worth ten thousand dollars, he was hardly able to get money enough to pay his quarterly rent bills. Several times he thought of calling the attention of his old debtor to the balance still against him, which, as it was for borrowed money, ought certainly to be paid. But it was an unpleasant thing to remind a friend of an old obligation, and Gooding, for a time, chose to bear his troubles, as the least disagreeable of the two alternatives. At last, however, difficulties pressed so hard upon him, that he forced himself to the task.
Both he and Jenkins lived about three quarters of a mile distant from their places of business, in a little village beyond the suburbs of the city. Gooding was lame, and used to ride to and from his store in a small wagon, which was used for sending home goods during the day. Jenkins usually walked into town in the morning, and home in the evening. It not unfrequently happened that Gooding overtook the latter, while riding home after business hours, when he always invited him to take a seat by his side, which invitation was never declined.
They were riding home in this way one evening, when Gooding, after clearing his throat two or three times, said, with a slight faltering in his voice,
“I am sorry, neighbor Jenkins, to make any allusion to old matters, but as you are getting along very comfortably, and I am rather hard pressed, don’t you think you could do something for me on account of the three hundred dollars due for borrowed money? If it had been a regular business debt, I would never have said a word about it, but—”
“Neighbor Gooding,” said Jenkins, interrupting him, “don’t give yourself a moment’s uneasiness about that matter. It shall be paid, every dollar of it; but I am not able, just yet, to make it up for you. But you shall have it.”
This was said in the blandest way imaginable, yet in a tone of earnestness.