When Uncle Josh first went to Boston to buy his stock in trade, it was said that a merchant of whom he made large purchases, thought he did not know about trusting so queer and shabby looking a customer,—he should have to require good security. To his surprise, the countryman looked at the amount, unbuttoned his coat, and, from an ample old pocket-book he counted off his money; then from the depths of his pantaloon's pocket he brought up a round piece of leather twisted together for fastening, and from this he counted the exact change. Then he directed how the goods should be sent to him by such a schooner at a certain wharf. "Thank you, Mr. Jackson," said the merchant; "I hope we shall always be able to accommodate you. You prefer to pay down now, I see; but if you would like to have your bill remain awhile on credit at any time, we shall be happy to trust you." "It is very kind in you, but I don't trade on promises. 'Tain't my way. I thank ye all the same."
One day Uncle Josh happened to be in a merchant's store when the head of the establishment was absent. The clerk who waited on him had the pertness and superior airs of youth, sometimes seen even fifty years ago. He thought it fine fun to chaff the old countryman so shabbily dressed, and who drawled his words, and seemed so heavy and lumbering in his movements. As his customer said he guessed he would take so much of one thing, and then of another, the clerk said, "You are running up quite an account, it seems to me. Dipping in pretty deep for a man like you, hey?" "Perhaps I am," answered the old man; "I'll let 'em go," and walked out of the store. Another clerk who had finished business with a customer, came forward, and said to his fellow-clerk, "What made Mr. Jackson go off so suddenly?" "Who? That old cove? I rather think he was miffed at something I said about his dipping in deep. He didn't look as if he could afford a mouse-trap." "He? why, he's worth his weight in gold—always money down on the spot. If you've offended him, the governor'll be in your hair, I can tell you." "Goodness!" cried the terrified clerk, "I'll go after him, and bring him back," and off he started in quick pursuit. He could easily distinguish the rusty-looking suit, and limping, sidelong gait, even among the crowd of passengers on the sidewalk. When he had nearly overtaken him, he called out, "Here, sir, Mr. Jackson! Please stop," but the countryman still continued to move on at his slow pace. The clerk came up to him, and touched his hat, saying, "Please excuse me, Mr. Jackson. I am sure I didn't mean anything. I hope you will go back to the store, and let us wait on you. I am sure Mr. —— would be so sorry to miss your custom. I hope you will excuse—" "You can go back to the store, young man," answered Mr. Jackson, "and tell your master I don't trade on excuses."
When the honest old man was gathered to his fathers, those who had known him in trade missed him. He always recognized a good article, and was willing to pay a fair price for it. He believed in a system of just equivalents in all business; he was exact to the smallest fraction, but not mean. He was simple, upright, honest, in all his dealings, never using his shrewdness to the disadvantage of his fellow-men.
LYDIA MARIA CHILD.
BY OLIVE E. DANA.
This is an age of biography. We have the two-volumed "Lives and Letters," and the brief and popular biography, with many of varying length and value between the two. And the contents of these two are outlined for us, again and again, in magazines and newspaper sketches. The histories of famous men and women are told and retold. It is the public's own fault if there is not a more general interest in, and a better knowledge of, the work of the notable characters of the century than ever before. This implies, also, a certain familiarity with the great movements of reform and philanthropy, and with the literature of the time. Some, however, who had a large share in the noblest work of this century, are less known, and less brought into notice, than we should expect. Among such is Mrs. L. M. Child. Her letters, published in 1880, were prefaced by a brief memorial sketch by the poet Whittier, and contained in an appendix the tribute of Wendell Phillips. An account of her life-work, written by Susan Coolidge, appeared in the "Famous Women" series. But her life, in many aspects, might profitably have the attention of this younger generation, who know little either of her antislavery work or of her literary attainments or fame. In both these departments her work seems like that of a pioneer. She helped to clear the way for the antislavery leaders,—Garrison and Higginson, Curtis and Lowell and Whittier. And in a similar manner she led the way into those paths where, for two or three decades, the woman-author has been so conspicuously advancing,—where her success has been so brilliant and varied. As to her literary genius, in the words of Whittier, "It is not too much to say that half a century ago she was the most popular literary woman in the United States." And again, "It is not exaggeration to say that no man or woman of that period rendered more substantial service to the cause of freedom, or made such a doing it." And when we add that her benevolence and 'great renunciation' in philanthropy—unobtrusive as they were—give her a valid claim to lasting remembrance, that the originality, insight, and force of character manifest in her letters, place them among the most valuable and suggestive of the letters of women, and that her truth, beneficence, and devotion would have made her life and character memorable if she had not written a line, we have stated only the barest truth; yet reason sufficient, why we of this generation should know more of her life and genius.
Lydia Maria Francis, afterwards Mrs. Child, was born in Medford, Mass., 1802. Her education was obtained in her native town, with the advantage of only one term in a private seminary. Her first book, "Hobomok," appeared in 1821, followed in 1823 by another novel, "The Rebels." These gave her a good degree of popularity. In 1827 she established "The Juvenile Miscellany," "pioneer to a long line of children's magazines." In 1828 she was married to David Lee Child, and they made their home in Boston. Within a very few years she wrote and published "The Frugal Housewife," "The Mother's Book," "The Girl's Own Book," "The History of Women," and the "Biographies of Good Wives."
Then, while all around her were heard the murmurs of popular praise and approval, and while in addition to the appreciation of countless humbler readers, she was winning commendation from the highest literary authorities,—in 1833 she "startled the country by the publication of her noble 'Appeal in behalf of that class of Americans called Africans.'" Mr. Whittier says: "It is quite impossible for any one of the present generation to imagine the popular surprise and indignation which the book called forth, or how entirely its author cut herself off from the favor and sympathy of a large number of those who had previously delighted to do her honor." And he continues: "Social and literary circles, which had been proud of her presence, closed their doors against her. The sale of her books, the subscriptions to her magazine, fell off to a ruinous extent. She knew all she was hazarding, and made the great sacrifice, prepared for all the consequences which followed."