Hiram understands this: that is, he has been educated to believe it. Surely he enjoys saving grace. Who more constant at church and evening meetings; who prays longer and more vigorously than he?
Let me repeat that Hiram has a strong desire to enter the kingdom of Heaven, and thinks that all the chances are in favor of his doing so. But this desire is of the same nature as his wish to become rich. It is founded on the determination to promote the fortunes of the individual me, here and hereafter. It leads him to treat as a principle the statement of fact, that "honesty is the best policy;" and his policy is—Self. He can practically master the theory of cause and effect as to what is going on here. And since he believes he will secure a good position in the world to come by strict observance of the "ordinances," he considers himself all right there.
It is with entire complacency, then, that Hiram Meeker sets sail in New York. He is young, and, as the word goes, handsome; with good health, strong nerves, an enduring frame, and excellent constitution. He is well educated, and has a remarkable capacity for affairs, with sufficient experience in business to qualify him for any mercantile career he chooses to enter on. Moreover, in all the relations of life, he professes to be governed by the highest possible principle—Christian principle; and claims to be, indeed really is, at least theoretically, a believer in the truths of our holy religion. Why is it, then, reader, you have already taken such a prejudice against Hiram? For I know, as it were instinctively, that you are prejudiced against him. Indeed, I confess that in preparing his history for the press, I have unconsciously permitted certain comments to creep in, indicating my own feelings toward the young man. But, in fact, I could not help it, especially when I came to narrate Hiram's course toward Sarah Burns.
But here in New York, I begin to feel a painful interest for young Meeker. He is at the "parting of the ways." Up to now, there has been no great strain on his moral sense, while he has not been altogether insensible to humanizing influences. He has been thus far in the service of others, and had wisdom enough to understand it was best for him to serve with fidelity. Thus, his sense of duty did not conflict with his interests, and he won golden opinions from all.
Probably, when he left Burnsville, but one person thoroughly knew him—that person was Sarah Burns. For it is given to those whose hearts are honestly devoted, in time to learn and fully comprehend the nature of the hearts brought in contact with theirs.
The young ladies universally recalled their delightful flirtations with Hiram with a sort of pleasurable regret, in which no angry feelings toward him were mingled. Even Mary Jessup looked back with a sentimental sigh, but not with any feeling of bitterness, to the period when she was so happy with "young Meeker, boarding at their house." The Hawkins girls still severally had their secret hopes in the future. [As to the widow Hawkins, I cannot say.] But nobody understood the young man except Sarah Burns. He knew that, and when he drove away from her door, he felt he was found out.
I am getting from my subject, which is Hiram's dangerous situation, now that he has reached New York. One thing much to be regretted is that he has resolved, at least for the present, to adjure society, in his entire devotion to his main purpose. This is an alarming feature. For notwithstanding, in his intercourse with the sex, he had sought entirely his own pleasure, still it was not without its qualifying influences. His mind was diverted from a perpetual thought of how he should get rich, and nature (I mean the nature common to us all) was permitted to have a certain sway.
When Hiram stepped foot in the metropolis, he cut off these diverting elements. He decided, and he had long and carefully considered it, that in the strife in which he was soon to enter, he should require all his time, all his faculties. For this reason, he determined to accept Mr. Eastman's offer of board and lodging at his house, albeit his wife was shrewish and generally disagreeable. He no longer permitted the gay throng in Broadway to move his nerves or excite his senses. And thus all these secondary impulses and emotions and sentiments yielded to the one main controlling purpose.
Yes, Hiram Meeker, I feel a painful interest in your situation. I see that, once entered on your career, there will be no departure or deviation or pause in it. As in metal poured into the mould, which, while it remains in a fluid state, is capable of being converted into other forms, but which, after a time, fixes and becomes unchangeable,—so, in the life of every human being, there is a period when the aims and purposes are fixed and the character is settled forever. With some, this comes earlier, with others later; but it comes inevitably to all of us.
It seems to me Hiram is fast approaching this epoch, and this is why my interest in him becomes painful. For after this—but I will not anticipate.