Chapter IV

One morning, while Ned was pondering the unsatisfactory state of his affairs, a neighbor brought him the news of the failure of his wife’s father.

Ned was horrified, for, it must be confessed, that in his present emergency, he had based some rather extravagant hopes on the fact of having a rich father-in-law.

It was a heavy stroke to his philosophy. The little financial theory based upon his rich wife, which he had matured to meet the approaching emergency, suddenly and violently exploded.

A five hundred dollar note came due that day, and he had been thinking of dropping into his father-in-law’s counting-room about one o’clock, to see if he had “any thing over.”

The thought of applying to uncle Joe occurred to him; but the worthy old gentleman was too blunt by half, and would be likely to tell him some homely truths.

The day wore away with vain devisings of means to extricate himself from his embarrassments. The note was not paid—was protested.

The next day, people, who had long suspected that Ned was travelling too fast, began to see with a clear vision the true state of the case. Before two o’clock, Ned was in chancery!

“How is this, Ned?” asked uncle Joseph, entering the counting room.

“Don’t mention it, uncle; don’t mention it! Before you say a word, I will own that you were all right, and I was all wrong,” replied Ned, groaning in spirit.

“I did not come to reproach you, Ned; far from it. I gave the best advice I was capable of giving; but as you did not deem it advisable to follow it, of course I shall not taunt you in your troubles.”

This was kind of uncle Joseph, and it was spoken in a kindly manner, without the slightest appearance of that triumphant “I knew it would be so,” which wise old men sometimes assume. It went to Ned’s heart, for Ned had a heart, notwithstanding the little foibles of his character.

“Why did you not come to me for assistance, Ned? I always meant well by you.”

“My case was a hopeless one; and to tell the truth, uncle Joseph, after what passed between us, I was ashamed to meet you.”

“Fie, Ned!” and the old gentleman was highly flattered by his nephew’s humility.

“I wish I had accepted your offer, even at a salary of four hundred dollars a year. I should have been a great deal better off now.”

“Well, well, we will not mind that now. The place is still open.”

“Is it?” asked Ned, eagerly.

“Tom is my head clerk. Of course I could not displace him.”

“No, certainly not.”

“But as you have a wife, I will make the salary six hundred now.”

“Thank you, uncle; I will gladly accept the place.”

Ned did accept it, and though it was a sad fall from his former position, he took his place at the desk in his uncle’s office as the assistant of Tom, with the best grace in the world.

It is surprising how misfortunes will humble a man; how they will make him accept with joy a position at which, in the days of his prosperity, he turned up his nose in disgust.

Mrs. Murdock, was, in the main, a sensible person, and made the best of her altered circumstances. Three rooms in a retired street were obtained, to supply the place of the fashionable residence in Tremont street, and the young couple went to housekeeping on a reduced scale.

Ned kept within his means this time. The humiliation of his fall gradually wore away, and he was surprised to find himself and his wife much happier than when they had been surrounded by all the appliances of wealth and luxury.

Ned remained three years with uncle Joseph, who annually increased his salary, thus enabling him to add to the comforts of life, and still keep within his means.

At the end of this period, the old gentleman, finding himself old enough and rich enough to retire, gave up his business to his two nephews, who, we are happy to record, are now doing remarkably well.

Moral.—When you are out of business, do not be over nice; and when you have a legacy left to you, do not be rash.