University of Virginia Library

THE DARK SIDE.

`We may predict a man's success in life from his spirits,' says Mr.
Emerson (viva voce, if not in his published lectures). Not from his
spirit, surely, or so many of the loveliest would not be for ever toiling
on the lower rounds of life's ladder, while those who know not
what manner of spirit they are of, and would be ashamed to look
the truth in the face if it were presented to them, are sitting coolly
at the top, or waving their hats in triumph at the moist-browed
throng below. A man's spirit—made up of his honesty, his meekness,
his patience, his humility, his charity, his sympathy—will not
insure his success, allowing the world to be judge of success, as it
claims to be. Animal spirits go much further towards it: and perhaps
Mr. Emerson meant these. They are the world's sine qua
non. It never sympathizes with one's depression. Grief it can
understand, because there is vivacity in grief. It respects passion,
for passion has movement and energy. But the man who can be
discouraged by any stroke of fate whatever, it sets down as a poltroon,
and if it turn not the cold shoulder of contempt upon him, it
either treats him as a foil, or a stepping-stone, or it goes round as if
he had never existed.

This discipline of Mother World seems somewhat hard to the life-pupil.

Like the rattan, or the slipper of nnrsery-training, it is rather
pungent and irritating, for the time, than convincing or restorative.
But like those balmy bitters, it saves a world of crude philosophizing
when we have learned to consider it inevitable. As the rod furnishes
the only royal road to learning, so the world's neglect offers
the man who has not patience and courage for the beaten track, a
short-cut to common sense; happy if egotism have not so befilmed
his mental sight, that the iron finger points in vain the upward
path!

These remarks, however, apply only to ordinary grumblers—the
immense class of the great unappreciated, whose sense of their own
merits wraps them all over like a cloak, so that out-siders may be
excused if they pass by unconscious. There are others whose spirits
fall below the tone required for the life-struggle, through mere tenderness
and humility. These could be tolerably cheerful under their
own troubles, if that were all; but it is a necessity of their nature to
become so completely interwoven with the fate and feelings of those
whom they find about them, that no thread can be snapped without
disturbing them. Their indentity is diffused, as it were; they have
a great frontier lying open to the enemy. Their house of life has
so many windows for the sunshine, that every blast finds entrance.
They become egotists through mere forgetfulness of self, since all the
misfortunes of those they love are personal to them, and lead, like
common egotism, to a morbid sensibility. We may exaggerate the
troubles of our friends, as well as our own, and fall into despondency
as proxy as well as principal.

This evil being the result of experience, it must be cured, homœopathically,
by more experience. Hard rubs have no place in the
treatment of such cases. As “amiable” people are apt to be very
obstinate, so amiable weaknesses defy all direct efforts at reform. If

they do not cure themselves they are hopeless. Their owners are
the last to believe them troublesome or inconvenient, as the Valaisans
are said to consider their habitual goitre rather an ornament
than otherwise.

But we may, perhaps, better illustrate the idea which set our pen
in motion, by a sketch of the circumstances under which a certain
person, whom we may as well call John Todd as anything else, came
to consider himself as being de trop in the world. He had some
apology, as the reader will allow.

He was the eldest son in a household whose head was just
so much worse than the head of a bad pin that it did not come off,
although decidedly of no use to any one, even the owner! Why
such men are called to preside over tables badly covered in
proportion as they are well surrounded, seems strange, but not so
strange as the fact that they are apt to be quite jolly, rather
personable, and particularly well-dressed people, full of wonder
at the obstinate toiling and moiling of the world around them, and
very severe upon the avarice of those who, having worked hard for
their money, are disposed to be over-careful of it. They are
always men of the most generous feelings; wishing for a million of
dollars that they might have wherewithal to help everybody that
needs help, and contriving ingenious plans of relief for all those ills
of life which are supposed to lie within the curative powers of ready
cash. As to their own means of living, they are invariably on the
brink of becoming suddenly rich; either by the death of an uncle,
who went to sea when he was a boy and has never been heard of
since, and therefore must come home a nabob; or by the advanced
value of land in the Northwest Territory, bought of the Indians at
the rate of a gallon of whiskey the quarter section, twenty years
ago, and on which no taxes have as yet been demanded; or from

the success of an entirely new branch of business, devised by the
jolly man himself, and entered into with much zeal by his crony and
double, Jack Thompson, who offers to be the outdoor partner,
making the thing popular, by persuading people it is just what they
want. Some form of `speculation' it must be; for this order of
genius finds mere industry dreadfully slow.

John Todd, then, was the son of a gentleman, i. e., of a man
who had nothing, and who did nothing, or next to nothing, for his
living, yet lived very well, and entertained very high sentiments.
We need hardly say that Mrs. Todd, the mother, who luckily had
had a very small annuity, secured to her by the foresight of an
elder brother, was one of those hard-working, devoted creatures,
who seem to have no individual existence, but to have been born the
adjunct and complement of such men. How and where she found
bread for the family,—to say nothing of beef,—was a mystery to
the neighbors, to whose apprehension Mr. Todd seemed to do
nothing but soil white waistcoats and plaited shirt-frills, lest his
wife should get out of business. Not but he went down town every
day; that was one of the duties held sacred in his estimation.
But what he did there no echo ever betrayed, though the dinner
hour never failed to find him punctually at home, generally
complaining of fatigue, or at least exhaustion. Mrs. Todd was
generally too weary to come to the table, which her husband
excused with great amenity, kindly advising her to lie down and
take a nap, as he could make out very well, which he certainly did.
Some people took it into their heads that he was the invalid
who declined giving his little daughter the last half of the seventeenth
dumpling, saying, `Papa's sick!' but this we cannot
vouch for.

Children reared under such auspices are notedly good and

dutiful, and so were most of the youthful Todds; but John, being
the oldest and ablest, and always his poor mother's right hand man,
was the apex of the little pyramid, as well in character as in
stature. Indeed, he never had any childhood. He occupied
the position of confidential agent to his mother; a sort of propertyman
and scene-shifter to the needy establishment, where so much
was to be done with so little. These two held long whispered
conferences with each other, of which the subjects seldom transpired—the
debates, perhaps, of a committee of ways and means on
pantaloons or potatoes. Mysterious signs and movements, nods
and winks, would pass between them occasionally, followed by
dartings hither and thither on the part of John, and uneasy glances
at the door or window on that of his mother, while the Papa Todd
sat reading the newspaper and fidgeted for his breakfast, and
the children were all huddled about the kitchen fire, because they
must not disturb their `poor father.' It was a great thing to be so
preserved from selfishness as that family was, by its head taking all
the risks of indulgences on his own shoulders. The virtue of
self-denial, so beautiful to look at, became habitual with most of the
members; and the father regarded this excellent quality in his
household with a serene complacency quite edifying to behold.

It was a time of great trial to the mother when John was
considered old enough to be put to business, an epoch which
arrived much earlier in the judgment of Mr. than of Mrs. Todd.
`It ruins a boy to be brought up in idleness!' said he. `Idleness!'
thought the mother, but she said nothing, and her beloved factotum
was placed with a merchant, who looked at him with much the
same sort of interest with which one regards a new broom or a pair
of bellows, which come in to supply the place of a worn-out article
of household service. Here was a new page of life for our

poor little friend, who had always, amid the general dreariness of
his lot, had
at least.

Here were new duties, new and mocking faces, long, laborious
days, uncheered by one kind word of encouragement, and a general
consciousness that a boy in a store is only a necessary evil, out
of whom it is everybody's business to get as much work as possible,
by way of compensation for enduring his awkwardness. The boy
had learned, somehow, that there is such a thing as fun in the
world, and had even discovered some capacity for it in himself,
though he had deferred the use of it under the emergencies of
home-life. But he soon found there must be a still further
postponement of the laughing era. All was grave about him,
so grave that nothing short of a hyena could have ventured upon a
laugh there, and poor John was anything but a hyena in disposition.
So he learned to withdraw into himself and paint pictures of an
ideal future, when his present probation should result in a pleasant
and plentiful home for his parents, where his father need not have
to complain of fatigue, and his mother should sit all day by the
front window in a rocking-chair, never doing anything unless
she chose! These visions consoled him under many things, and
became, indeed, the substitute for hope, in his mind, as similar ones
are in many other minds. He wondered why he was not happier.
His employers were not unkind to him, and he did not perceive
that negatives have very little to do with our happiness. His
labors were no greater than they had been at home, and he was
better dressed and better fed. It was only the atmosphere of love
that he missed, yet he pined, in secret, like a geranium in Greenland,

and became, outwardly, a dull, drudging boy, without power to rise
above the present by reaching towards the future.

Home troubles, too, had their share in keeping his heart in
shadow. His father failed for the dozenth time in some scheme for
sudden wealth, and several of the better pieces of furniture had
from time to time mysteriously disappeared from the house, leaving
blank spaces no less in the imagination of the children than in the
rooms they had once graced. The story of the Iron Shroud,—a
prison whose walls advanced daily inward, lessening the walking and
breathing space of the wretch within,—only shadows forth the
stealthy but unmistakable approach of absolute poverty in a family
like this; and though the boy's imagination did not body it forth
thus, his sense of the truth was none the less crushing to his spirits.
His poor mother never complained, and, indeed, would hardly
answer his anxious questions; but there was a growing sadness
in her very kisses, which often sent him to bed half choking
with desponding thoughts, the most prominent of which was that
of his own miserable inefficiency in the case. A drop of added
bitterness was the behavior of his brother Charles,—the father's
favorite and image,—a handsome, showy boy of twelve or thirteen,
who ought to have taken John's place as Mrs. Todd's aid and
comforter, but who chose rather to slip away to play in the street,
and to do many other things which filled the tender mother's heart
with anxiety. John often tried to talk a little with his brother
about these matters, but one of the most discouraging things in
Charles's character was a sort of plausibility or facility, which led
him to assent to all general propositions in morals, while he
ingeniously eluded every possible application of any to his own
conduct. He never got angry at reproof,—a sure sign that he had
no idea of profiting by it. Truth excites passion whenever it

touches us personally, and we may as well fire paper bullets against
a stone wall, as attempt to apply it to a heart secretly fortified with
evil intention. Charles's real determination was to take his
pleasure wherever he could find it, while his instinctive love of
character impelled him equally to avoid disgrace. These two aims
generally lead to hypocrisy, hardly recognised by the sinner
himself while success lasts; and Charles Todd was as yet called a
fine boy by almost everybody, though he was giving his mother and
his prematurely careful brother many a private heart-ache.

After John had worked hard for a year, with the hope of earning
some increase to his pittance, he was discharged with very slight
warning, his employer observing that he was `rather dull,' which
was no doubt true. A bright-looking, well-dressed boy took his
place; and he set about, with leaden heart, looking for another, all
the harder to find because it was necessary he should find it.
When found at last, it proved to be of a considerably lower tone
than the first;—a smaller establishment, and so far mortifying to
his boyish pride, but otherwise—that is, in the main point of kindly
interest and sympathy—very similar. And this was the general
experience of four or five years or so,—a period which may be left
to the reader's imagination, after the hints we have given.

Somewhere during this period, Mr. Todd, the father, fell on the
ice and broke his leg badly, which effectually checked his speculative
as well as ambulative powers, and changed the character of his
wife's toils a little without materially increasing them. This accident,
happening just after John had obtained an increase of salary,
which raised his hopes a shade or two, seemed to him a final sentence
as to any chance of prosperity in his unlucky career. His
heart sank within him as he saw his father established on the old
skeleton sofa, which had long since ceased to offer any temptation to

lounging habits, and his mother and two young sisters sitting by it,
trying to earn something by means of that suicidal implement, the
seamstress's needle. It was impossible for him to feel only just
enough solicitude on their account. The weight of his pity and
tenderness hung on his hands and heart, lessening his power of aid.
The too present idea of their privations led him to reduce even
his diet below the just measure required for strength and courage to
a constitution like his, and to go so shabbily dressed as to lessen
materially his chance of obtaining better wages. He passed for a
good, sober, useful fellow, who expected but little, though he was
willing to turn his hand to anything. It is not in human nature to
give a seedy, threadbare-looking man as much as we would give a
smartly dressed one, under the same circumstances—a truth not
very creditable to that nature of ours, and worthy of some examination
by employers.

Charles now began to take the lead of his elder brother in all
respects. His animated manner and frank-sounding words were
very prepossessing, and he early obtained the situation of book-agent,
a business for which address may be said to be the first, second, and
third requisite, though there is perhaps a fourth, of no less consequence.
His pay was irregular, and his outlay for dress considerable;
and although he continued to live at home, he professed himself
unable to contribute any fixed sum to the family means, though
he occasionally made his mother or sisters a present, which loomed
much larger in their imaginations than the constant offerings of
John, dropping unperceived like the dew, and performing as important
an office. Charles always wore the gay and fascinating air
of success, and it was natural for a mother to be proud of him, and
to hope everything from him, gladly dismissing the misgivings of
the past, and persuading herself that Charles had a good heart,

after all,—a conclusion to which mothers are prone to arrive rather
through the affections than the judgment.

John, though he felt tempted to envy his brother the facility with
which he acquired the reputation of having a good heart, had too
good a one of his own to view his prosperity with jaundiced eyes
He was proud of him, too, for there is something bewitching in personal
advantages, say what we will.

Yes, there is something bewitching about them, with which reason
has little to do. John had already experienced this, for he had
fallen in love with a pretty girl of the neighborhood,—an orphan
who lived with relatives not much disposed to be kind to her,—so
said common report. Susan Bartlett had a delicate, appealing kind
of beauty, which seemed quite as much the result of sensibility as of
complexion and outline. The family with whom she found a home
were rough, coarse people, among whom her air of natural refinement
appeared to great advantage. She was evidently not comfortable
in her position, a circumstance nearly as attractive as her
beauty, to one who fancied himself the `predestined child of care.'
If she had looked happy, he would never have dared to love her,
but her pensive smile encouraged him, and the gentle, half-grateful
air with which she received his attentions, so excited his languid self-complacency,
that he had occasionally a gleam of hope that he might
be somebody to somebody yet. In short, the first rose-tint that fell
upon his life-stream was from the dawn of this tender passion; and
Susan's beauty, lighting up her lover's clouds, called forth many a
golden shimmering air-castle, all ready to be drawn down to earth
and turned into a comfortable dwelling some day.

For an hour or more after Susan had shyly owned that she returned
his affection, John wondered that he had ever fancied himself
doomed to ill-fortune. What was the cold, harsh world to him!

Susan, like himself, had been used to straitened circumstances, and
she was willing to share his lot, be it what it might. It was not
long before he was forced to remember that a lot may be too narrow
to be shared with anybody, but his new talisman did a good
deal to keep off the foul fiend Despondency, so that his pleasure
was not turned into pain much more than half the time.

Mrs. Todd felt appalled, for the moment, when she was told
of John's engagement. Not only did the condition of the family
demand more than all the aid the dutiful son could give it, but to
the cooler eyes of the mother, Susan's temperament and habits were
ill-calculated to promote the happiness of a poor and very sensitive
man. Mrs. Todd thought her indolent and inefficient; wanting in
force of character, and likely to take almost any coloring from those
about her; but she wisely said nothing, for the matter was settled,
and she could only grieve her son without the hope of benefit.
Susan was very sweet and amiable in the family, and much a
favorite with Mr. Todd, whose dull hours were considerably lightened
by the presence of a pretty girl, who would sometimes read to
him or entertain him with the gossip of the hour. Charles, too,
was delighted with his sister-in-law that was to be, and as he had
much more leisure than John, often took his brother's place as her
escort, or called upon her as John's proxy when he was necessarily
detained.

This period of our hero's life was like a delicious Indian summer,
when the atmosphere is full of golden haze, which throws a soft
illusion over everything, hiding the bareness of reality, and bestowing
a happy indistinctness upon distant objects. Such seasons are
never long ones. The frosts of truth clear the air and force us to
think upon the needs of wintry life, if we would not wake up to a
distress which no illusion can gild. No man could be more sincerely

in love than John Todd; but, in this case as in others, his goodness
stood in the way of his happiness. A selfish man would have been
amply satisfied with the pleasure of being beloved by the woman of
his choice; but the good son could not long so forget his old duties
as not to miss in Susan some of the qualities which would have
made her a comfort to his mother. His own love was so generous,
so entire; his heart beat so tenderly for all that could interest Susan,
that it was hardly in human nature not to feel some disappointment
at finding in her no corresponding interest in those so dear to
him. Susan evidently felt that her position was properly that of an
idol, which nobody can expect to see come down from its pedestal
and mingle on equal terms with its worshippers. Not that her
manner was arrogant or assuming; that was always sweet and
gentle. It was rather what she omitted than what she did, that
brought John to the sad conviction that her affections had no tendency
to be led by his, and that he had not succeeded in winning a
daughter's love for his mother by giving away so largely of his own.
So fate pursued him. The golden clouds changed to purple, and
the purple to lead-color, in his mind; and he felt more keenly than
ever that he was doomed to be unhappy, since love, which had
seemed for a time to make every sad thought absurd, had failed to
satisfy him, as it seemed to do other men. John did not know
how easily other men are satisfied—sometimes.

Home affairs, meanwhile, certainly had brightened a little.
Somehow, unaccountably, the family had not become any poorer
for Mr. Todd's long illness. Much kindness had been brought out
by the circumstance, and friends had come forward in a way which
materially aided Mrs. Todd without lowering her self-respect.
While a man like Mr. Todd remains at the head of affairs, there is
always a kind of simmering indignation among the friends and

relatives of the family, which prevents their showing the sympathy
they cannot but feel for the suffering members. But when he is
fairly out of the way, cempassion claims its natural course, as in this
case. A teacher in the neighborhood took two of the girls as free
pupils, insisting that she could do so without the least cost to herself,
—a mode of Christian charity more practised by that most laborious
and ill-paid class than the world at all suspects. Physicians, too,
discerning the true state of things, either forgot to send their bills at
all, or made merely nominal charges, as they are doing every day in
similar cases, with a liberality for which they get little credit. In
short, even John was obliged to own to himself that a seeming misfortune
may have its bright side, though the conviction did not
remain present with him constantly enough to make head against
the bad habit of low spirits.

Charles, meanwhile, was dashing away as usual, handsome, gay,
and confident; now and then sending home some showy, useless
article to his mother or sisters, and sometimes, though more rarely,
throwing money into their laps, which seemed doubled in value by
the grace with which it was given. There was no coming at a distinct
notion of his affairs, for a book-agency naturally fluctuates a
good deal, and refers to `luck' more than some other kinds of business.
But he always seemed to have leisure for visiting, and money
for amusements, so his mother fought resolutely against intrusive
fears that there might be something hollow in this prosperity. The
elder brother was less easily satisfied, for he knew rather more of
Charles's habits.

It was not long before his fears were justified. Charles came to
the store one day, and with an appearance of great agitation asked
to see his brother apart.

`What is the matter?' said John, whose imagination rushed
homewards at once, prognosticating evil to the loved ones there.

`I've got myself into trouble,' said the other; and as he had done
this several times before, his brother felt relieved to find it no worse.

But further explanation showed him that the present was no ordinary
affair.

`I have lost a sum of money belonging to our firm—' began
Charles.

`Lost! how lost?'

`Oh! I've been robbed, but 'tis a long story, and the question is
now how to get out of the scrape. It is only two hundred dollars!'

`Only two hundred dollars!' said John aghast, for he had not
two hundred cents to call his own.

`What is to be done? Will not your firm wait till you have
had time to repay it by degrees?'

`Wait! they must never know it! I should be ruined for ever
if they did. Can't you help me? I could pay you by degrees,
you know! You can get an advance on your salary. You always
stand well with your employers; do ask, that's a good fellow, and I
will promise that this shall be the last time that I will ever trouble
you.'

`But you do not consider that this would take the very bread out
of mother's mouth, and the children's. You know they cannot live
a week without what I bring them. You must find some other
resource. Surely your firm must have some confidence in you after
so long a connexion.'

`Oh, they are stiff old fellows, and they've been prejudiced against
me by one or two little matters, such as happen to every young
man. You are my only hope, for I will never survive disgrace.'

It is needless to recount the arguments of a man without principle,

who knew his brother's goodness of heart to be greater than
his firmness. After a very long talk, in the course of which John
ascertained that the `robbery' was only the form under which
Charles chose to represent a loss at the gaming-table, and which he
professed to believe the result of fraud, the matter ended as Charles
knew it would—in John's going, with shame and confusion of face,
to his employers, and asking an advance of the required sum. The
distress with which he did it was most evident, and the reluctance
with which his request was granted quite as unmistakeable; but
when he met his brother at the appointed time with the money, one
would have hardly supposed Charles to be the obliged party, so
easily did he make light of the whole affair.

`The old hunkers!” he said, “it will do 'em good to bleed a little.
After slaving for them so long, it would be pretty, indeed, to be
refused such a trifle! You let them impose upon you, John! If
you only had a little more spirit they would treat you better. If
our old fellows had been as niggardly with me, I should have left
them long ago; but they know better!'

When John, not attempting to defend himself against the charge
of wanting spirit, only desired to know what were his brother's prospects
of refunding the money, for want of which the family at home
must suffer, Charles talked grandly, but vaguely, of some Californian
propositions that had been made to him, saying he did not know
whether he should accept them or not, but, at any rate, he should
pay the money very shortly.

`Do not wait,' said John, `for any considerable part of it. Remember
poor mother, and all her privations and difficulties. Father
requires every day more and more care and labor; for you know he
is nearly helpless, and it takes quite one person's time to nurse him.

Pray hand me, from time to time, every dollar you can spare; for
I foresee much trouble from this miserable business.'

`Oh, you are always foreseeing trouble,' said Charles, gaily. `You're
famous for that. Why don't you look on the bright side, as I do!
The world owes us a living, at least. I'm sure it does me, and I
mean to have it, too! I've got half a dozen plans in my head.'

`I don't like the California project very well,' said John, as his
brother was about to leave him.

`O; perhaps you'll like it better by and by!' was the reply: and
the brothers separated.

John went home with a heavy heart; but he was used to a heavy
heart, so he said nothing of what had passed. After tea, he called
for Susan, who had engaged to go with him to some lecture, but
found her ill with a headache. Her aunt said she had gone to bed,
and must not be disturbed! so John went home, and went to bed
too, not feeling very sorry to be quite alone, that he might reflect,
undisturbed, upon the state of affairs. He was far from feeling
satisfied with himself for having yielded to Charles's passionate and
selfish importunity, what was absolutely necessary to the support of
the family; and he could see no way of right, except that of some
new self-sacrifice, which should make good the deficiency, at least in
part. After turning over in his mind every possible way of earning
mony at extra hours, and saving it by excessive abstinence, he fell
asleep, undecided between an evening class in writing, and the carriership
of an early morning paper, which would furnish him with
employment before daylight, and allow him to reach the store at the
appointed hour. He rather thought he should try both.

The next morning his father was worse, so much worse, that he
would hardly have felt justified in leaving his mother, if the transaction
of the day before had not made it absolutely necessary that he

should appear at the store. He looked so haggard and care-worn,
that his employers thought he must be ill, and recommended that
he should go home, which he gladly prepared to do, mentioning
his father's dangerous condition. Just as he was locking his desk,
a note came from his mother, desiring to see him immediately;
and he ran home, hardly expecting to find his father still alive.

But there was no change for the worse, yet his mother was pale
as ashes, and trembling all over.

`Oh, John?' she said, and that was all.

`What is it, mother—what can it be?'

`Susan—'

`Dead!'

`No, not dead!' and Mrs. Todd held up a letter.

`Read it, mother,' said John, in a strange, quiet voice, as if he
was in a magnetic sleep, and could see the contents through the
paper.

And Mrs. Todd read:

`Another! another!' said John; `what other?' Nobody spoke.
There was a sort of shuddering guess in the bottom of the heart of
several of the family, but no one could endure to suggest it.

`Nobody knows,' said Mrs. Todd; `Susan left the house alone,
they say.'

John went to his own room, and locked himself in for some
hours. In the evening a gentleman called, and asked to see him
alone. It was one of the firm in whose employ Charles had been
for some years.

`Have you been aware of your brother's intention of going to
California?' said Mr.—.

`To California! No—yes—that is, I have heard him say he had
had offers to go there.'

`You do not know then, that he sailed in the packet of to-day?

John could but repeat the words, half stupified.

`Did not the family know of his marriage? He was married
just before he went on board, as we understand.'

All was now clear enough as to Susan; but John had yet to
learn that, instead of having lost money at play, as he pretended,
Charles had received a considerable sum for the house within a day
or two, and only borrowed of his brother to increase his means for
the elopement.

That evening Mr. Todd grew rapidly worse, and at midnight he
died.

It is recorded of one of the heroic Covenanters who were subjected

to the hideous punishment of the boot—which consisted in
enclosing the leg in an iron case and driving in a wedge upon the
bone—that after the second stroke upon the wedge he was observed
to laugh, which naturally excited the curiosity of those whose business
it was to torture him. `I laugh,' said he, `to think I could
have been so foolish as to dread the second blow, since the first
destroyed all sensation.'

It was not long before John Todd was aware of a sort of cheerfulness
arising from the sense that he had reached the extreme
point of misery. It acted as a tonic upon his mind, as the heart-burn
of acidity is relieved by lemonjuice. He felt more like a man
than he had ever done in his life. This was proved, even to his
own astonishment, when he found himself stating his position to his
employers, from whom he had just borrowed a large sum (for him),
and requesting of them a farther advance. This they granted with
alacrity, for he had asked it with honest confidence.

`We should be glad to see you as soon as convenient;—we have
something to say to you,' said the elder merchant.

Two days before, this request would have made John's very heart
quake, for his timidity would have prompted prognostics of evil;
but now he felt bold and strong, and promised readily to be at the
store as soon as he could leave home. He began to think it rather
pleasant to be in despair.

After the funeral was over, and the succeeding blank pressed hard
upon him, he bethought him of the request of Messrs. —. On
the way he had a return of his old feelings, and began to paint to
himself the horrors of being turned off; but he soon drove them
away with the thought that there were many more places in the
world, and his own chance as good as another man's.

The object of the business conference was to propose to John

Todd a share in the concern, the proprietors not being of the class
with whom modesty hides merit. They had observed in him both
industry and ability, joined with the most transparent honesty and
truth of character, and they were wise enough to wish to secure
him. Happily good spirits are not so much missed in a counting-house
as in some other places.

The care of the family now devolving more obviously upon him,
he removed them into a smaller but more comfortable house than
had suited his father's notions, and had the happiness of seeing his
mother relieved from the more harassing portion of her cares and
labors, and at liberty to rest sometimes, which was a new thing in
her overdriven life. His own private troubles he never mentioned,
and the subject was dropped by common consent, though the woe-worn
face of Mrs. Todd was, in spite of herself, a perpetual memento
of the whole sad past.

At the end of some eight or ten months, news came from San
Francisco that Charles had died of the disease of the country, just as
he was about to be seized on the charge of embezzlement. John
thought at once of Susan, unworthy as she was, and fearing she
might suffer want among strangers, would fain have urged her
return; but he resisted the impulse of a tenderness that might
have been weakness, and only wrote to a friend in California to see
that his brother's widow did not lack the ordinary comforts. In
spite of this wise resolution his mind was a good deal disturbed by
the image of his first love, until Susan fortunately broke the spell
by marrying at San Francisco an emigrant of no immaculate fame.

This completed John's recovery, and made a man of him. As
he had at first loved Susan from pity—a wretched reason for a life-love—so
he might have loved her again from pity, since he ascribed
her aberration rather to weakness than to deliberate treachery. Now

he saw her as she was, a poor, vacillating, selfish creature, devoid of
every desirable quality,—unless we reckon as such a quiet and gentle
manner, the result of temperament, not principle; not the
woman to whom a man of tolerable sense could safely intrust his
happiness and honor. The recollection of Charles was bitter,
indeed; but his career had borne its legitimate fruit, and there was
mitigation in the thought that the disgrace of a public trial and
imprisonment had been spared them all.

John's complete restoration was not rapidly accomplished, but
like other recoveries from typhus, subject to relapses. But he
never fell back entirely. Braced by misfortune, his nerves were
strung for lesser ills, and his unhappy habit of self-depreciation—
the most dangerous form of egotism, since it borrows the specious
semblance of humility, though it is often nothing less than rank
pride—was cured by the testimony of experience. The happiness
of being everything to his mother and her children was of itself
healing to his wounded self-love, and in due time he married a
woman very different from Susan Bartlett, since her attractions were
her own, and not those of circumstance. John Todd finished by
owning himself happy.

We have all this time said no word of our hero's religion, because
we do not think a man's religion worth speaking of, so long as he is
determined to be his own Providence, and refuses to intrust the
main web of his life to the weaving of the Unerring Hand. In
truth, with all his goodness it was only the occurrences we have
narrated that taught him the wholesome lesson of dependence and
submission, and convinced him that if he made his happiness depend
upon freedom from misfortune, he must go through life under a
cloud. He perceived that he had taken too much upon himself;
and his view of his own private responsibility for everything that

could possibly befall himself and his friends, was much modified,
without any diminution of sensibility or efficiency. And here let
us leave our exemplar, praying the reader's patience and pardon if
John Todd has seemed to them only an essay in disguise.