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 THREE 
 
 EXPERIMENTS OF LIVING 
 
 LIVING WITHIN THE MEANS. 
 LIVING UP TO THE MEANS. 
 LIVING BEYOND THE MEANS. 
 
 ' Tracts are written for the poor ; but we would ask, if influence 
 and example do not proceed from the rich ? ' 
 
 TWENTIETH EDITION. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 PUBLISHED BY WHIPPLE & DAMHELL, 
 
 9 Cornhill. 
 NEW YORK: SAMUEL COLMAN. 
 
 - 1 8 :?
 
 PREFACE 
 
 THE present little volume, though 
 unpretending in its form, is the result 
 of no inconsiderable experience and 
 reflection. The manuscript was sub- 
 mitted tc the editor, by the talented 
 author, with a modest wish of making 
 some slight contribution to the great 
 cause of good morals, virtuous habits, 
 and domestic and social comfort. The 
 editor received it as one of the produc- 
 tions of the day, unsupported by any 
 recommendations of great names, or 
 other artificial means, which are the 
 resource of empty writers, who only 
 wish to attract the gaze of the public. 
 But, upon beginning to read the work, 
 his attention became so engaged with
 
 VI PREFACE. 
 
 the progress of the narrative, its sim- 
 plicity, clearness, and natural develop- 
 ment of the occurrences, all which 
 adapted it, in a peculiar manner, to 
 those readers for whose benefit it is 
 particularly intended, that he had 
 gone entirely through the volume, be- 
 fore he was aware of it. 
 
 Numerous valuable tracts have been 
 written within a few years past, upon 
 single and detached subjects of morals, 
 connected with the condition of socie- 
 ty ; and among these, the admirable 
 ' Temperance Tales,' by an able and 
 interesting writer in this city, stand 
 preeminent. It is not using too strong 
 language, to say, that those Tales, 
 unimportant as they may be consid- 
 ered by the mass of readers, who 
 never trouble themselves with the la- 
 bor of thinkiHg, are, probably, now 
 effecting a revolution in opinions, which 
 have been proof against the heavy ar- 
 tillery of many a royal quarto and im- 
 perial octavo. 
 
 The author of the present publica-
 
 PREFACE. Vll 
 
 tion, a practical and exact observer 
 of the lax doctrines still current with 
 the unreflecting portion of the^ommu- 
 nity, on the vital subject of the moral 
 condition of those with whom we are 
 obliged to live in a social state, enter- 
 tained a strong conviction, that a work, 
 which should not be restricted to the 
 development of any single topic of 
 morals exclusively, but should com- 
 prise, within a moderate extent, a gen- 
 eral view of those social duties and 
 maxims of domestic economy, that are 
 essential to our happiness and comfort 
 in this life, would, if properly executed, 
 be useful at this time. 
 
 It had not escaped the notice of so 
 intelligent an observer, that there is, in 
 many persons, whose showy but super- 
 ficial attainments give them more influ- 
 ence than they are justly entitled to, a 
 constant disposition to make a perverse 
 application, in morals, of certain prin- 
 ciples, which were intended for physi- 
 cal subjects alone. They repeat, like 
 parrots, the maxim of the political
 
 VH1 PREFACE. 
 
 economists, ' Laissez-nous faire let 
 us alone,' morals will take care of 
 themselves ; just as they tell us, to let 
 alone the prices and qualities of the 
 physical subjects of trade, and they 
 will take care of themselves. 
 
 It is, however, an unquestionable, 
 though in some respects a mortifying 
 truth, that, to keep the community 
 in a sound and healthy moral state, 
 demands the unremitting energies of 
 all the talent and perseverance of those 
 individuals who have the ability to 
 enlighten and instruct their fellow- 
 men, and keep the vicious under that 
 wholesome awe, which is essential to 
 the security of the virtuous and well- 
 disposed. Whenever the efforts of 
 these individuals are intermitted, 
 whenever they cease to hold up to 
 merited execration, the violaters of our 
 social duties, the corrupt portion of the 
 community make a greater or less ad- 
 vance in their unholy career. No re- 
 laxation, in such a cause, can be al- 
 lowed with safety. * We must,' as
 
 PREFACE. IX 
 
 Burke says, on another occasion, 'keep 
 up the top with continual agitation and 
 lashing ; the moment it ceases to spin, 
 it is a dead bit of box.' 
 
 Under a deep conviction of the duty 
 incumbent upon every individual, to 
 render such aid as may be in his power, 
 in promoting the moral improvement 
 of society, the author of the present 
 work offers it to the public. It com- 
 prises, as the reader will see, in the 
 form of an interesting narrative, a prac- 
 tical display of important maxims in 
 domestic economy and the conduct of 
 life, the advantages of living within 
 one's means, on the one hand, and, on 
 the other, the misery and wretchedness 
 attendant upon an opposite course ; not 
 merely as regards the physical comforts 
 of the unhappy individual, who is the 
 subject of it, but his moral condition ; 
 for it is an undeniable truth, that the 
 extravagance of living beyond one's 
 means, so forcibly depicted in this 
 work, and which leads the unhappy 
 man, when oppressed with debts and
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 beset by duns, to prevaricate, evade 
 and deceive those who have just claims 
 upon him, has a most corrupting influ- 
 ence upon his moral sense ; while it 
 degrades the man in his own estima- 
 tion, lessens his self-respect, destroys 
 his independence, and even prepares 
 the way for crimes, at which he would' 
 once have shuddered. The want of a 
 competent property, it is justly said, is 
 no crime ; and certain it is, that wealth 
 alone cannot ensure a virtuous and 
 honorable life ; but we daily see abun 
 )ant reason for believing, that, as a 
 practical rule of conduct, we cannot do 
 better than to follow the emphatic 
 advice of the stern and uncompromif 5 
 ing Junius : * Let all your views in 
 life be directed to a solid, however 
 moderate, independence ; without it, 
 no man can be happy, nor even honest? 
 
 THE EDITOR. 
 
 BOSTON, DEC. 24, 1836.
 
 THREE 
 
 EXPERIMENTS OF LIVING. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 LIVING WITHIN THE MEANS.
 
 LIVING 
 WITHIN THE MEANS. 
 
 ' AND so, Frank, you are really going to be 
 married ? ' asked uncle Joshua. 
 
 ' I really am, sir,' replied Frank. 
 
 ' And live on broth ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, sir, and, if I cannot afford that, on 
 water-gruel.' 
 
 1 And pray, have you persuaded Jane to 
 starve with you ? ' 
 
 ' I have persuaded her, sir, that we can be 
 happy on the bare necessaries of life ; and 
 those my industry will always procure us.' 
 
 ' How do you know, that you will always 
 have health to labor in your profession ? '
 
 14 LIVING WITHIN 
 
 ' I certainly do not ; it would be presump- 
 tion in me, to speak securely on that subject.' 
 
 ' Yet you are going to act as if this were a 
 certainty.' 
 
 ' And is it wrong, my dear sir, that 1 should ? 
 I have health and strength, these, to me, are 
 positive wealth. I possess them now, and 
 T must make the most of them. If the un- 
 certainty of our possessions is to paralyze our 
 exertions, those who have money are nearly as 
 bad off as those who have not. Riches take 
 to themselves wings and fly away, they are 
 at the mercy of fire and water. Uncertainty is 
 written upon all things. I believe my pros- 
 pects are as stable as most people's.' 
 
 ' Let me hear what they are.' 
 
 { In the first place, sir, I have health ; m the 
 next, activity ; and then, my profession is a 
 pretty sure one. A physician will always 
 find patients, if he is attentive and skilful ; and 
 I mean to be both. However, I confess that 
 our greatest security for a living, will consist 
 in our moderate desires and simple habits. 
 You know, sir, Jane has no passion for fine 
 dress, and in short '
 
 THE MEANS. , 15 
 
 ' In short^ Frank, you are determined to 
 be married, and there is an end of all argu 
 ment.' 
 
 ' I only wait for your consent, sir.' 
 
 ' You know very well that mine will follow 
 Jane's ; and she is willing to live with you or 
 the bare necessaries of life ? ' 
 
 Jane only answered by an assenting smile. 
 
 ' Very well, I give up ; one thing, however, 
 let me tell you, beyond bread and water, a 
 shelter for one's betid, a bag of straw to sleep 
 on, and covering and fuel to guard us, from 
 the inclemencies of the weather, there are no 
 positive necessaries ; all the rest are compara- 
 tive ! ' 
 
 Jane had hitherto sat very quietly at her 
 work ; but she now laid it in her lap, and look- 
 ed up with an air of astonishment. 
 
 ' You do not agree with me, I perceive,' 
 said uncle Joshua ; ' tell me, then, what you 
 think are the necessaries of life.' 
 
 ' I confess, sir,' said Jane, a little contempt- 
 uously, ' when I agreed with Frank, that we 
 could live on the necessaries of life, I did not 
 mean like the beasts cf the field, or the birds
 
 16 LIVING WITHIN 
 
 of the air ; but, graduating our ideas to what 13 
 around us, I am sure we shall ask for nothing 
 more than the necessaries of life ; the luxu- 
 ries,' added she, with a pretty sentimental air, 
 ' we will draw from our own hearts.' 
 
 And I,' said Frank, looking enchanted 
 with her eloquence, ' shall be the happiest of 
 men.' 
 
 ' Graduating our ideas to what is around us !' 
 exclaimed uncle Joshua. ' Ah, there it is ; 
 you could live on broth, or water-gruel, if every 
 body else did ; but the fact is, that nobody does, 
 and so you, like the rest of the world, will live 
 a little beyond your means.' 
 
 ' No, sir,' said the young people, eagerly ; 
 ' we are determined to make it a j-ule never to 
 exceed our means.' 
 
 ' As long as you keep to that rule, you are 
 safe ; you do not know what it is to be beoet 
 by temptations. But I have done ; advice is 
 of little value, where we have nothing else to 
 give, and that is pretty much my case ; but 
 a bachelor's wants are few.' 
 
 ' Yes, dcai' uncle,' said Jane, smiling ; ' he 
 wants nothing but the necessaries of life; an
 
 T K ;: M ;; A :; s . 17 
 
 elbow-chair, a good fire, and a cigar half a 
 dozen times a- day ; and long, long,' added she, 
 affectionately embracing him, ' may you enjoy 
 them, and give to us what is of far more value 
 than money, your affection, and on every 
 other subject, your advice.' 
 
 In one fortnight from this conversation, 
 Frank and Jane were man and wife. Perhaps 
 a more united, or a more rational pair, had 
 seldom pronounced the marriage vow. They 
 began with the wise purpose of incurring no 
 debts ; and took lodgings at a cheap rate, in an 
 obscure, but populous part of the city. 
 
 Most young physicians begin life with some 
 degree of patronage, but Frank had none ; he 
 came to the city a stranger, from the wilds of 
 Vermont, fell in love with Jane Churchwood, 
 uncle Joshua's niece, a man whom nobody 
 knew, and whose independence consisted in 
 limiting his wants to his means. What little 
 he could do for Jane, he cheerfully did. 
 But after all necessary expenses were paid, 
 the young people had but just enough between 
 them to secure their first quarter's board, and 
 place a sign on the corner of the house, by 
 2
 
 18 LIVING WITHIN 
 
 special permission, with Doctor Fulton, hand- 
 somely inscribed upon it. The sign seemed 
 to excite but little attention, as nobody call- 
 ed to see the owner of it, though he was at 
 home every hour in the day. 
 
 After a week of patient expectation, which 
 could not be said to pass heavily, for they 
 worked, read and talked together, Frank 
 thought it best to add to the sign, Practises 
 for the poor gratis. At the end of a few days 
 another clause was added, Furnishes medi- 
 cines to those who cannot afford to pay for 
 them. In a very short time, the passers by 
 stopped to spell out the words, and Frank 
 soon began to reap the benefit of this addition. 
 Various applications were made, and though 
 they did not as yet promise any increase .of 
 revenue, he was willing to pay for the first 
 stepping stone. What had begun, however, 
 from true New England calculation, was con- 
 tinued from benevolence. He was introduced 
 to scenes of misery, that made him forget all 
 but the desire of relieving the wretchedness he 
 witnessed ; and when he related to his young 
 and tender-hearted wife, the situation in which
 
 THE MEANS. 19 
 
 he found a mother confined to her bed, with two 
 or three helpless children crying around her 
 for bread, Jane would^ put on her straw bonnet, 
 and follow him with a light step to the divn'-y 
 abode. The first quarter's board came round ; 
 it was paid, and left them nearly penniless. 
 There is something in benevolent purpose, as 
 well as in industry, that cheers and supports 
 the mind. Never was Jane's step lighter, nor 
 her smile gayer, than at present. But this 
 could not last ; the next quarter's board must 
 be provided, and how ? Stijl the work cf 
 mercy went on, and did not grow slack. 
 
 ' See,' said Jane, one morning, when she 
 entered with a basket on her arm, <seo what a 
 present our landlady has made me ; arid she 
 displayed her broken bread and cold i leat. ' I 
 am going to poor Mrs. Barber's, to feed 
 children. Do you not think if I could every 
 day carry your patients such a supply as this. 
 I should prove the best physician of the 
 two ? ' 
 
 ' Healthy food,' said Frank, ' is undoubtedly 
 a preventive to diseases ; but allow me some 
 merit, after the mischief is done. We will
 
 20 LIVING WITHIN 
 
 go togetner, however, this morning, as consult- 
 ing physicians.' 
 
 And they went together to Ann Street, 
 ascended a crooked flight of stairs, and entered 
 the forlorn apartment, where lay the sick mother, 
 while the hungry, squalid children were gath- 
 ered round the ashes upon the hearth. But 
 an ohject attracted their attention, that might 
 be said to afford all the picturesque relief, which 
 a painter would require in such a scene. By 
 the side of the bed sat a lady in the prime of 
 life, redolent with health and beauty, and 
 dressed in the extreme of fashion. After gazing 
 with some surprise at the new comers, she 
 bent over the sufferer, sweeping her bird-of- 
 paradise feathers in the sick woman's face, and 
 inquired ' who they were ? ' In the meantime 
 the children gathered round Jane, and, with a 
 true animal instinct, began to scent the pro- 
 vision that the basket contained. It was with 
 difficulty she could restrain their eager appe- 
 tites. The lady looked on with wonder. 
 and inhaled the odor of the vinaigrette attach- 
 ed to her watch-chain. 
 
 ' I hope there is nothing infectious,' said 
 she, in a low voice to the doctor.
 
 THE MEANS. 21 
 
 He assured her there was not. 'She has 
 been,' said he, ' too weak to work for several 
 months, and is reduced to this state as much 
 by the want of nourishing food, as disease. ' 
 
 ' Good heavens,' said the lady, putting her 
 embroidered pocket-handkerchief to her eyes, 
 ' why did she not go to the alms-house !' 
 
 The woman's lips moved, but no sound was 
 articulated. 
 
 ' There is a very foolish prejudice against 
 this institution,' said Mrs. Hart, which was 
 the name of the lady. ' I have known many 
 people that had rather beg than go there.' 
 
 ' It is foolish,' said the doctor, ' if that is 
 the case ; but as long as people can earn a 
 living without applying to the town for support, 
 we must commend them for their exertions.' 
 
 ' I am very sorry,' replied she, ' that Martha 
 did not let me know her situation before : 1 
 certainly would have done all I could to relieve 
 her.' 
 
 'Then you know her, madam,' said Jane, 
 for the first time speaking to the lady. 
 
 ' Yes, that is, she has washed in my 
 kitchen for some weeks.'
 
 22 LIVING WITHIN 
 
 ' Months,' said Martha, with exertion. 
 
 ' She sent to me/ continued the lady, a 
 few days ago, and I ordered my coachman, 
 this morning, to find out where she lived, and 
 I have ventured here, notwithstanding my weak 
 nerves and delicate health.' 
 
 ' How good of you, madam,' said Jane, who 
 was evidently impressed by the apparent rank 
 of the lady ; ' Mrs. Barber is very destitute.' 
 
 'So 1 perceive ; but I rejoice she has found 
 friends in you, able and willing to assist her.' 
 
 ' We are more willing than able,' said Jane, 
 meekly. 
 
 'That is precisely my case,' replied Mrs. 
 Hart. 
 
 Jane glanced at her costly apparel 
 
 ' We, who are called rich,' said Mrs. Hart, 
 ' have constant claims ; but I will assist you in 
 aiding poor Martha ; ' and she drew from her 
 reticule a splendid crimson purse, and drawing 
 back the gold rings, placed in the woman's 
 emaciated hand a small sum. Strange as it 
 may seem, the woman discovered no gratitude, 
 but rather made a rejecting motion. 
 
 ' She is too sick, madam.' said Jane,
 
 TH E MEANS . 23 
 
 springing forward, ' to thank you as she would ; 
 but if you will trust me, I will see that your 
 bounty is properly applied to the wants of the 
 family ; they are suffering for almost every 
 thing.' 
 
 ' Certainly,' replied the lady ; ' and I should 
 esteem it a kindness, if you or Dr. Fulton 
 would do me the favor to let me know how 
 Martha goes on; my health does not permit 
 such exertions as these often.' 
 
 Jane, who had been maturing a little plan 
 in her own mind, for the benefit of the chil- 
 dren, promised her she would call in a few 
 days ; and Frank, with a native politeness that 
 quite won Mrs. Hart, saw her not only to the 
 bottom of the crooked stairs, but to her car- 
 riage, where her footman stood, holding the 
 door in waiting for his lady. 
 
 ' How happy,' said Jane, when they return- 
 ed home, ' must Mrs. Hart be ; so benevolent 
 
 d so rich ! ' 
 
 ' How do you know, my dear, she is so 
 rich ? ' said her husband. 
 
 ' Why, did not you observe how costly her 
 dress was ? '
 
 24 LIVING WITHIN 
 
 ' That is no proof,' said Frank ; ' you know 
 she said, like us, she was more willing than 
 able.' 
 
 ' But you know her situation must he very 
 different from ours; why, her pelisse cost more 
 than all my gowns put together, I will an- 
 swer for it.' 
 
 ' If she spends so much upon her pelisse, 
 said Frank, laughing, ' I am afraid she has bui 
 little left to give away.' 
 
 ' That is by no means a candid conclusion,' 
 said Jane, assuming her sentimental air ; ' on 
 the contrary, when we see a person richly 
 dressed, it is but just to suppose they are 
 wealthy.' 
 
 ' It \\ould be so, if every thing was governed 
 by justice and right reason, and w-e were not 
 continually drawing fake inferences from ap- 
 pearances. You know, Mrs. Hart said she 
 was very glad Martha had found friends " able 
 and irHiing to assist fur ; " perhaps she 
 thought ict were very rich.' 
 
 ' O, 1 am sure she could not,' said Jane, 
 with some vexation, ' if she looked at my old 
 straw bonnet and calico gown.'
 
 THEMEANS. 25 
 
 * Well, dear,' replied Frank, affectionately, 
 ' I suppose she did not ; she only locked at 
 your bright blue eyes, and saw you feeding 
 the hungry.' 
 
 In a few days, things wore a more comfort- 
 able appearance at Martha's. The lady's 
 bounty was well applied. Fuel and food were 
 provided ; but still the children were too desti- 
 tute of clothing to attend any of the schools. 
 Jane's plan, that we have before alluded to, 
 was fast approaching maturity. She deter- 
 mined to solicit aid for clothing the children ; 
 but a feeling of delicacy led her to delay it, in 
 hopes she might be able to give a respectable 
 sum herself. In the mean time, Dr. Fulton 
 pursued his course with persevering industry. 
 Martha's return from what her own class styled 
 death's door, gave him celebrity with them ; 
 out a new case, more convincing, soon occur- 
 red. He was called to a man who was dying. 
 He hastened to the place, and found the too 
 frequent companions of the poor, superstition 
 and ignorance. The sick man was stretched 
 on his bed of straw, his family huddled round 
 him, groaning, sobbing and crying aloud, the 
 3
 
 26 LIVING WITHIN 
 
 room crowded by people drawn there from 
 curiosity ; for, strange as it may seem, there 
 are those, \vh >, much as they dread the agonies 
 of death for themselves, are eager to witness 
 them in others. The doctor's first care was to 
 clear and ventilate the room, and then to ad- 
 minister such restoratives as he thought judi- 
 cious. The consequence was, that the man 
 began to draw a longer breath, and, in the 
 course of a few days, was spoken of as cured 
 by Dr. Fulton, after every body had given him 
 over ! 
 
 Frank had now no want of employment 
 from the poor ; but, by degrees, those who could 
 afford to pay began to apply ; and at length a 
 carriage, but little inferior in elegance to Mrs. 
 
 O ' O 
 
 Hart's, stopped at his lodgings. Jane's heart 
 fluttered as she heard Mr. Harrington's name 
 announced, for she knew he w.is one of the 
 wealthiest of the city. His visit was that of a 
 hypochondriac, who, after tiying various phy- 
 sicians and various systems, had heard of the 
 fame of Dr. Fulton, of his wonderful success, 
 and came hoping to get aid for himself. 
 
 Perhaps there never was a fairer chance for
 
 THE MEANS. 27 
 
 quackery ; but Dr. Fulton, to do him justice, 
 had no tact for such little arts. He frankly 
 told him that his restoration depended much 
 more on himself than on a physician, suggested 
 modes of exercise, of diet, cheerful society, 
 and relaxation from business and care ; and 
 when the gentleman insisted on the doctor's 
 success in curing desperate cases, he assured 
 him, that his most powerful agents among the 
 poor had been what they could command 
 without his aid, temperance and cleanliness. 
 Mr. Harrington was struck with the doctor's 
 honesty and good sense, and felt moved by the 
 apparent poverty of his and his young wife's 
 situation. At parting he did not confine him- 
 self to a regular fee, but said, 'As you practise 
 gratis for the poor, it is but just that the rich 
 should pay you double.' He requested Frank 
 to visit him daily; and this he continued to 
 do ; and, as he had leisure to make long calls 
 and engage him in cheerful conversation, Mr. 
 Harrington rapidly improved under the best of 
 all systems for a hypochondriac. 
 
 Thus far we have followed our young couple 
 in their struggle for a living. Not a debt.
 
 28 LIVING WITHIN 
 
 hitherto, had been incurred ; and besides time 
 and medicines, they had always found some- 
 thing to give. But as their pecuniary pros- 
 pect brightens, our walks must enlarge. Dr. 
 Fulton was daily working his way into the 
 inorf enlightened orders of society. His day- 
 book and leger began to be necessary, and 
 the gentle-hearted Jane was no longer obliged 
 to beg a pittance for the poor. 
 
 We must now make an excursion to another 
 part of the city, for our friends boarded at what 
 is called the North-End. In a splendid apart- 
 ment, ornamented with mirrors and girandoles, 
 whose diamond cut-drops reflected the colors 
 of the rainbo'v, hung round with paintings 
 and curtained with damask, in an elegant 
 morning dress, on a cushioned divan, sat Mi's. 
 Hart. TVice she rang the bell, and twice a 
 footman made his appearance. 
 
 ' Have not the shawls come yet ? ' both 
 times ohe inquired. 
 
 ' No, madam.' 
 
 ( Are you sure you made no mistake ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, madam.' 
 
 ( Give me my cologne bottle ; not that, the
 
 THE MEANS. 29 
 
 porcelain ; ' and she poured the perfume over 
 her handkerchief. ' So provoking ! ' 
 
 At that moment, a man was ushered into 
 the room, with a box under his arm. The 
 footman was ordered out, and the treasures of 
 the box displayed. There were camels-hair 
 shawls of different prices, from one hundred to 
 three hundred dollars. The first were thrown 
 scornfully aside. One for two hundred was 
 elegant. It was, however, too dear ; she 
 could not afford it, but she must have some 
 kind of a shawl ; she was suffering for one. 
 The man assured her she never would repent 
 taking one of them, and she began to think so 
 herself. At length, she decided to keep the 
 one for two hundred, if there was no hurry for 
 payment. ' Not the least,' the man assured 
 her ; ' but perhaps she had better look at an- 
 other he had.' Another was displayed; but 
 the cost of it was three hundred dollars. ' It 
 was elegant, it was superb,' but it was wholly 
 out of her power to buy it ; ' and yet, really, 
 the one she had selected looked positively 
 ordinary by the side of it ; ' and she cast a 
 glance of indignation towards the two hun
 
 30 LIVING WITHIN 
 
 dred dollar shawl. The man urged the merits 
 of the three hundred dollar one, and at length 
 threw it over her shoulders. It hung gracefully 
 to the hem of her garment. She surveyed her- 
 self before, turned, and, with her head over 
 her shoulder, surveyed herself behind ; she 
 wrapped it round, and she flung it open ; she 
 disposed it over one arm in folds. This last 
 effect was irresistible, it was truly Grecian 
 drapery, it decided the matter. ' Very well,' 
 said she, ' the shawl is mine. I must have 
 one ; and I suppose, in the end, this will be as 
 cheap as any.' 
 
 At that moment, Mrs. Fulton was announc- 
 ed. The man was hurried out, and the shawl 
 thrown gracefully over the arm of the sofa. 
 
 'My dear Mi's. Fulton,' said the lady, 'I 
 have been expecting you to call and see me ; 
 I remembered your promise.' 
 
 Jane was delighted with her reception, and 
 proceeded at once to mention her plan. It was 
 to get up a subscription to supply clothing as 
 well as schooling for a certain number of poor 
 children, including Maltha's. 
 
 ' I thought Martha was able to work by this 
 time/ said the lady.
 
 THE MEANS. 31 
 
 'She is still very feeble, and can barely 
 procure food for herself and children. I 
 thought perhaps you would approve of my 
 plan. 1 would not set it going till I was able 
 to contribute my part by money, as well as 
 time. My husband has been successful be- 
 yond his expectations, and I have now a feel- 
 ing of independence in asking.' 
 
 ' How benevolent you are, my dear Mrs. 
 Fulton ! Would to Heaven I had the means 
 of being equally so ! but my time is wholly 
 engrossed, and the claims upon my purse are 
 constant. Perhaps none are so heavily taxed 
 as the rich, or have less right to be called 
 affluent. I declare to you,' said she, drawing 
 forth her elegant crimson silk purse, and hold- 
 ing it suspended on her jewelled finger, ' I 
 cannot command a farthing; you see how 
 empty it is. But I approve your plan. Per- 
 haps you will be so kind as to advance the 
 same sum for me that you pay for yourself. 
 We will settle it v, hen we next meet.' 
 
 Jane cheerfully assented, and took her leave ; 
 and Mi's. Hart, with her three hundred dollar 
 shawl, became the debtor of Jane.
 
 32 LIVING WITHIN 
 
 ' How strange it is,' said Mrs. Fulton, as 
 she related the circumstance to her husband, 
 ' that, in the midst of such luxury, she had not 
 five dollars to give in charity, for that was all 
 I wanted ! ' 
 
 ' You do not understand this thing, my poor 
 Jane,' said Frank, smiling ; ' it seems to you 
 incredible that Mrs. Hart can be poor. I will 
 demonstrate the matter to you. You admit 
 that we are rich now, compared to what we 
 were two months ago. We have our next 
 quarter's rent secure, are able to buy books, 
 and have something left to give away. But if 
 I were to make expensive purchases that would 
 consume nearly all we have accumulated, and 
 you took it in your head you would have a 
 pelisse as costly as Mrs. Hart's, then you 
 would be as poor as she was to-day, and could 
 not afford to give any thing away, instead of 
 becoming her creditor.' 
 
 'According to your definition,' said Jane, 
 ' those who live within their means are the 
 only wealthy people.' 
 
 ' They certainly are to all the purposes of 
 present comfort ; and so you must be thankful
 
 T H E M E A N S 33 
 
 that you have married a man who has found 
 out the philosopher's stone.' 
 
 ' Better than that,' said Jane ; ' who has the 
 art of being rich with a very little money.' 
 
 The next day Jane went to see Mrs. Bar- 
 ber, and propose to her her plan of clothing 
 the children, and providing a school for them. 
 The woman expressed her gratitude, and Jane 
 thought it but just to mention her benefactors. 
 When she named Mrs. Hart among them, Mrs. 
 Barber said, ' Indeed, madam, I do not ask her 
 to give me any thing, if she will only pay me 
 what is justly my due.' Jane now learned, 
 with astonishment, that the poor woman had 
 washed ' in her kitchen ' for nearly a year, 
 without being able to obtain payment. 
 
 ' It was for that, madam, I sent to entreat 
 her to come and see me, hoping she might be 
 moved by my distress ; and she did, you know, 
 pay me a small sum. I have credited her for 
 that ; but it is a small part of what she owes 
 me.' 
 
 ' I hope,' said Jane, after a long pause, in 
 which her countenance discovered the work- 
 ings of her mind, ' I hope there are few such 
 instances as this.'
 
 34 LIVING WITHIN 
 
 ' I never met with such a one, not exactly,' 
 added she hesitatingly ; ' but, indeed, madam, 
 the rich little consider how important our 
 wages for a day's work are to us. It would 
 be bad manners in us to insist upon being paid 
 immediately; and yet many's the time when 
 I have depended upon one day's wages for 
 my children's food for the next.' 
 
 ' It must be such a trifle to the rich, that if 
 you only let them know you are going away 
 they will pay you.' 
 
 ' It is because it is such a trifle to them, I 
 suppose,' said the woman, 'that they cannot 
 understand how important it is to us. Some 
 how or other, rich ladies never have any thing 
 they call change, and they are very apt to 
 say, " they will remember it," and " another 
 time will do as well ; " and so it is as well for 
 them, but not for us.' 
 
 Mrs. Barber's heart seemed to be quite 
 opened by Jane's sympathy, and she went on. 
 
 ' Indeed, ma'am, I sometimes think there is 
 more kindness towards the poor than there is 
 justice. The ladies are very good in getting 
 up societies and fail's to help us ; but they verv
 
 THE MEANS. 35 
 
 often seem unwilling to pay us the full price 
 of our labor. If they would pay us well, and 
 give us less, it would be better for us.' 
 
 ' Perhaps you are right,' said Jane, ' about 
 paying for work ; but only think how much 
 good has been done by fairs ! ' 
 
 ' Yes, ma'am ; good has been done to some, 
 and injury to others. I know of a poor woman 
 who was born a lady, and who was reduced in 
 her circumstances. Her health was very feeble, 
 but still she was able to earn a living by mak- 
 ing those curious little things that they sell at 
 fairs ; but since the ladies have taken to mak- 
 ing them, it is hard times with her ; for she 
 says the market is overrun.' 
 
 ' The right way,' said Jane, ' would be to 
 employ these people to work for others, and 
 instead of the ladies making pin-cushions and 
 emery-bags, to buy them ready made, and sell 
 them again. Then charity would operate equal- 
 ly among the poor ; for what one class could 
 not make, another could, and labor would be 
 exchanged.' 
 
 ' I do n't know how it ought to be settled 
 Perhaps it is all right as it is; but we poor
 
 36 LIVING WITHIN 
 
 folks think we have our wrongs. For instance, 
 ma'am, I sometimes do washing for people at 
 boarding-houses. They will appoint me to come 
 about 9 o'clock in the morning to get their 
 clothes. When I go, very likely they are not 
 up. Then I must wait till they are, sometimes 
 an hour or more. All this is lost time to me ; 
 and time, to daily laborers, is money. My 
 husband was a carpenter ; and he used to say, 
 that he gave the rich a great deal more than 
 he got from them, for he gave them time. 
 One fine lady and another would send for him, 
 and ask him if he could not put a shelf up 
 here, or make a closet there ; and after he had 
 measured and calculated, perhaps they would 
 come to the conclusion not to have any thing 
 done, and he had his trouble for his pains.' 
 
 ' All the wrongs you have mentioned,' said 
 Jane, ' seem to arise from want of considera- 
 tion, not want of benevolence.' 
 
 ' That 's pretty much what I said, ma'am, 
 at first, that now-a-days there was more 
 kindness to the poor than justice. If I was 
 paid for all the time I have wasted in waiting 
 upon the rich, sometimes for clothes, sometimes
 
 THEMEANS. 37 
 
 for pay, for I often have to go two or 
 three times before I can find a lady at home, 
 I should -be better off than I am now. To 
 be sure, it is but small sums that are due to 
 us ; but my husband used to say these ought 
 to be paid right away, because they do n't go 
 upon interest like larger ones.' 
 
 ' You seem to have thought a good aeai on 
 this subject,' said Jane. 
 
 ' I take it,' said Mrs. Barber, ' that we must 
 all think ; at least, I never saw the time when 
 I could drive thoughts out of my head, though 
 I am sure, when you first took me up, it was 
 sad enough to think ; and if it had not been 
 for my poor children, I should have been glad 
 enough to have laid down in the cold grave, 
 and thought no more in this world.' 
 
 ' How true was your remark,' said Jane, 
 when she related the poor woman's conversa- 
 tion to her husband, ' that if Mrs. Hart spent 
 so much upon her pelisse, she probably had 
 little to give away ! I am sure I never shall 
 see a very costly dress again, that I shall not 
 think of poor Martha.' 
 
 ' You must not think all the wealthy are
 
 38 LIVING WITHIN 
 
 like Mrs. Hart, Jane. I believe such instances, 
 in our city, at least, are rare, and that few 
 ladies would suffer a debt like this to go un- 
 paid, and in the mean time give ostentatiously. 
 At the same time, it illustrates the inordinate 
 indulgence of luxury, which seldom fails, I 
 believe, to harden the heart and make people 
 selfish. But I dare say, any body that looked 
 in upon us, and heard us reasoning so sagely 
 upon the evils of wealth, would apply to us 
 the fable of the fox and the grapes.' 
 
 ' I should like, however,' said Jane, ' to be 
 rich once, if it was only to show others how 
 much good riches might do.' 
 
 ' Luckily,' said Frank, ' you would not be 
 the first to illustrate this subject ; we have had 
 noble examples of munificence in our city. At 
 present, Jane, it is wisest to turn our study 
 towards seeing how much good we can do 
 with a little.' 
 
 Dr. Fulton's business increased with -his 
 reputation, and his reputation with his business. 
 At the end of a year, he felt authorized to rent 
 a small house, and begin house-keeping. Their 
 arrangements were as economical as possible;
 
 THEMEANS. 39 
 
 and, on this occasion, uncle Joshua, who was 
 first consulted, very kindly gave them more 
 money than advice. 
 
 Now, indeed, our young couple felt happy. 
 There is something in home that gives dignity 
 to life. The man, who can say my home and 
 my family, possesses the strongest influence 
 that can operate on character. 
 
 It was a cold evening in December that 
 they took possession of their little tenement. 
 The first flight of snow was just beginning to 
 fall, and the dark clouds were separated from 
 the horizon by a pale streak of blue, watery 
 light ; but within the little parlor, all was 
 bright and cheerful. The fire sent its flicker- 
 ing beams throughout the apartment, enlivening 
 the books and the furniture, and resting on the 
 cheerful faces of the young couple, now radiant 
 with happiness. 
 
 ' What do we want more ? ' said Jane, as 
 they seated themselves at the tea-table. ' All 
 the world could not make us happier than we 
 are now.' 
 
 ' There is a great satisfaction,' said Frank, 
 ' in having earned our comforts.'
 
 40 LIVING WITHIN 
 
 ' Yes,' replied Jane ; ' even uncle Joshua 
 has become a convert, and says we were wise 
 to marry.' 
 
 At that moment, the door-bell rung. It was 
 a message from Mr. Harrington, requesting to 
 see the doctor immediately. 
 
 ' How provoking ! ' exclaimed Jane. ' I 
 suppose he has taken it in his head that his 
 throat is closing up, or that he has a fifth finger 
 growing out of his hand. It is too bad, to 
 disturb our very first evening at home ! ' 
 
 ' You forget, Jane, that we owe a large 
 proportion of our present prosperity to his 
 whims ; besides, he has procured me many 
 friends. I will be back as quickly as 
 possible.' 
 
 In a short time, Frank returned ; the tea- 
 kettle again sent forth its hissing sound, and 
 the tea-pot was again replenished. 
 
 Jane grew anxious about Mr. Harrington, 
 and hoped ' he was not seriously sick.' ' How 
 the wind blows ! ' said she. ' Ah, if there is 
 any thing that makes us feel the blessing of 
 home, it is such a night as this.' 
 
 But poor Jane was doomed to be disap-
 
 THE MEANS. 41 
 
 pointed. Again the door-bell rung. 'I have 
 no doubt,' she exclaimed, ' but Mr. Harrington 
 has sent again.' She was mistaken ; it was the 
 tittle ragged son of the widow Warner, one of 
 the doctor's patients, for whom he ' practised 
 gratis, and furnished medicines.' The boy 
 said, ' his mother wanted the doctor to come 
 right away that minute, for little Betsey had 
 pulled a kettle of scalding water over her.' 
 
 To this message Jane made no opposition, 
 but hastened her husband's departure. Little 
 Betsey was one of her protegees, and it was 
 but the day before that, as she observed her at 
 the infant school, she thought she should be 
 perfectly satisfied with possessing such a healthy 
 and intelligent child. In this respect, she was 
 soon gratified. As a mother, Jane was exem- 
 plary in her duties ; and, as the number of her 
 children increased, she might be truly said to 
 share the laborious toil of jlie family. At first, 
 she had but one female domestic, and then Mrs. 
 Barber's little daughter was occasionally called 
 in. Many a weary day and night did Jane 
 cheerfully go through, sometimes she had to 
 watch by a sick child till the morning dawn, 
 4
 
 42 LIVING WITHIN 
 
 and then came washing-day, and she must hold 
 her infant in her arms till night came round 
 again. All these were labors of love, and 
 brought their own reward. Frank's sphere 
 of business continued to enlarge. He no longer 
 trudged about on foot, but purchased a horse 
 and chaise, and his leaden weight with it, to give 
 the horse a hint to wait his master's pleasure. 
 In short, he was acknowledged as one of the 
 faculty, by his brother physicians, and, of 
 course, a man of consequence. The comforts 
 of life gradually increased, though they did 
 not lose sight of the principle with which 
 they set out, of living within their means. 
 The close of every year left them a small 
 overplus, which was scrupulously invested for 
 capital. 
 
 We fear there are few who sincerely repeat 
 
 Give me neither poverty nor riches.' 
 This was the situation to which Frank had 
 
 tamed. Blest with health, a promising fami- 
 
 1 -, respected as a physician, and cherished as 
 
 friend ; with the wife of his youth, the partner 
 
 ':--d lightener of his cares, it seemed as if there 
 
 :.s little more to desire. We talk of the
 
 THE MEANS. 43 
 
 blessing of an amiable disposition ; what is it 
 but the serenity of a rnind at peace with 
 itself, of a mind that is contented with its 
 own lot, and which covets not another's ! 
 They sometimes made a morning call at the 
 houses of the rich and fashionable ; but Jane 
 looked at the splendid apartments with vacant 
 admiration. It never for a moment entered 
 her head that she should like such herself. 
 She returned home to take her seat by the side 
 of the cradle, to caress one child, and provide 
 for the wants of another, with a feeling that 
 nobody was so rich as herself. 
 
 It would be pleasant to dwell longer on this 
 period of Dr. Fulton's life. It was one of 
 honest independence. Their pleasures were 
 home pleasures, the purest and the most satis- 
 factory that this world affords. We cannot 
 but admit that they might have been elevated 
 and increased by deeper and more fervent 
 principle. Nature had been bountiful in 
 giving them kind and gentle dispositions, and 
 generous emotions; but the barky- with its 
 swelling sails and gay streamers, that moves so 
 gallantly over the rippling waters, struggles
 
 44 LIVING WITHIN 
 
 feebly against the rushing wind and foaming 
 wave. Prosperous as Frank might be con- 
 sidered, he had attained no success beyond 
 what every industrious, capable young man 
 may attain, who, from his first setting out' in 
 life, scrupulously limits his expenses within hi.s 
 means. This is, in fact, to be his text-book 
 nd his aegis. Not what others do, not what 
 eems necessary and fitting to his station in 
 ife, but what he, who knows his own affairs, 
 can" decide is in reality fitting. Shall we, who 
 so much prize our independence, give up, what, 
 n a political view alone, is dross, compared to 
 ndependence of character and habits ? Shall 
 we, who can call master spirits from every 
 portion of our land, to attest to the hard- 
 earned victory of freedom and independence 
 give up the glorious prize, and suffer our minds 
 to be subjugated by foreign luxuries and 
 habits ? Yet it is even so ; they are fast in- 
 vading our land ; they have already taken pos- 
 session of our sea-ports, and are hastening 
 towards the interior. Well may British travel- 
 lers scoff, when they come amongst us, 
 and see our own native Americans adopt-
 
 THEMEANS. 45 
 
 ing the most frivolous parts of civilized life, 
 its feathers and gewgaws, our nabits and 
 customs, made up of awkward imitations of 
 English and French; our weak attempts at 
 aristocracy; our late hours of visiting, for 
 which no possible reason can be assigned, but 
 that they do so in Europe ! Let us rather, 
 with true independence, adopt the good of 
 every nation, their arts and improvements, 
 their noble and liberal institutions, their liter- 
 ature, and the grace and real refinement of 
 their manners ; but let us strive to retain our 
 simplicity, our sense of what is consistent with 
 our own glorious calling, and above all, the 
 honesty and wisdom of living within our in- 
 come, whatever it may be. This is our 
 true standard. Let those who can afford it, 
 consult their own taste in living. If they pre- 
 fer elegance of furniture, who has a right to 
 gainsay it ? But let us not all aim at the 
 same luxury. Perhaps it is this consciousness 
 of unsuccessful imitation, that has given a 
 color to the charge made against us, by the 
 English, of undue irritability. Truly, there is 
 nothing more likely to produce it. Let us
 
 46 LIVING WITHIN 
 
 pursue our path, with a firm and steadfast pur- 
 pose, as did our fathers of the Revolution, and 
 we shall little regard those who, after receiving 
 our hospitality, retire to a distance, and pelt 
 us with rubbish. 
 
 Whether the following extract from a letter 
 written by one of the primitive and respectable 
 members of our government, Judge Wingate, 
 has been published, I do not know ; but it 
 bears honorable testimony of the simplicity of 
 Washington's first public dinner, and is copied 
 verbatim from the original letter. 
 
 ' I was a member of Congress when Presi- 
 dent Washington was inaugurated in his office, 
 and at the first public dinner he gave. The 
 President, the Vice President, the foreign 
 ministers, the heads of department of gov- 
 ernment, the Speaker of the House of Repre- 
 sentatives, and the Senators from New Hamp- 
 shire, and the Senators from Georgia, being 
 the two States from the northern and southern 
 extremities of the Union, made the company 
 at the table. It was the least showy dinner 
 diat I ever saw at the President's table, and 
 the company was not large. The President 
 made his whole dinner on a boiled les: of
 
 THEMEANS. 47 
 
 mutton. It was his usual practice to eat of 
 but one dish. As there was no chaplain 
 present, the President himself said a very 
 short srace as he was sitting down. After the 
 
 o o 
 
 dinner and dessert were finished, one glass of 
 wine was passed round the tahle, and no toast. 
 The President arose, and all the company, of 
 course, and retired to the drawing room, from 
 which the guests departed, as every one chose, 
 without ceremony.' 
 
 We hope this digression will be excused, for 
 the sake of the honest independence of our 
 purpose. Hitherto Dr. Fulton had done what 
 every other man may do, with health, capacity 
 and industry. Without a symptom of quackery, 
 he had a courteous manner of listening to the 
 complaints of his patients, and a sympathy 
 which arose from kind feeling. No one could 
 appreciate this gentleness more highly than 
 poor rich Mr. Harrington, who had been 
 laughed at by his enemies, scolded by his 
 friends, blistered by one physician, dieted b) 
 a second, and steamed by a third, till he was 
 an epitome of human hypochondriacism. Frank 
 soon saw that his case was an incurable one, 
 and sought only to soothe and alleviate his
 
 48 LIVING WITHIN THE MEANS. 
 
 sufferings. Perhaps Mr. Harrington learned to 
 appreciate some of the blessings of his own 
 affluence, by witnessing the exertions that 
 Frank and Jane were obliged to make. At 
 any rate, he entertained much respect and 
 regard for them, and was often heard to say 
 there was more happiness in their ' little bird's 
 nest,' than in a palace. At length, worn out 
 by nervous disease, his emaciated frame found 
 its refuge in its mother earth, and he quietly 
 slept with his fathers. After his death, it was 
 found that he had bequeathed to Dr. and Mrs. 
 Fulton, ' as a mark of his regard, five thousand 
 dollars.' This sum was immediately invested 
 as capital, and both resolutely declared that 
 they would consider the principal a sacred 
 deposit, and not encroach upon it. 
 
 We have alluded to the increase of their 
 family. The ' little bird's nest ' had become 
 quite too small for the number of its inhabit- 
 ants. Before Mr. Harrington's legacy, they 
 had determined to take another house. Per- 
 haps the bequest might influence them in 
 getting one in a more agreeable part of the 
 city, though they only gave as a reason, the 
 health and advantage of their children.
 
 THREE 
 
 PERIMENTS OF LIVING. 
 
 PART II 
 
 1VING UP TO THE MEANS.
 
 LIVING 
 
 UP TO THE MEANS 
 
 COULD Frank and Jane have foreseen their 
 present degree of affluence, when they first 
 set out in life, they would have considered it 
 little less than a miracle. But, like every thing 
 else that i* gradually attained, it now excited 
 no wonder in their minds. There was still a 
 striking simplicity in Jane's manners and ap- 
 pearance, a consciousness of happiness, and a 
 refinement of feeling, that intercourse with the 
 world too often blunts. When her children 
 were fairly in bed, and the domestic duties of 
 the day over, when her husband laid aside 
 his day-book and leger, when the fire burnt 
 bright, and her little work-table stood by her 
 side, when Frank ventured to pull off Ms 
 boots, and lay half reclined on the sofa, then 
 came the hour of conversation. Then Jane
 
 52 L I V I N G U P 
 
 loved to talk over the past and the present, 
 and sum up their stores of happiness. Some- 
 times she requested her husband to read aloud ; 
 but he never got through a page, without her 
 interrupting him. to point out something con- 
 genial, or something in contrast -with their sit- 
 uation ; and the book was soon thrown aside. 
 as far less interesting than their own conversa- 
 tion. Perhaps there was a little too much of 
 egotism, and a little too much of vanity, in all 
 this ; but they were in the habit of thinking 
 aloud to each other. 
 
 ' I do positively believe,' said Jane,, 'we are 
 the happiest people in the world. I can say, 
 with truth, I have scarcely a wish ungratified. 
 1 am sure I envy nobody.' 
 
 *' Not even your early friend, Susan Colby ? ' 
 ' How can you always bring that up, Frank ? 
 To be sure, I did feel a little vexed, when I 
 accidentally met her, all dressed out, and she 
 asked me to go to her husband's English goods 
 store with her. I knew that Mr. Colby had 
 set out as we did, with little or nothing, and 
 had become affluent, while we were struggling 
 for a living, t confess, I did wish our ships
 
 TO THEMEANS. 53 
 
 would arrive, and that I could, like her, step 
 into my husband's store, and order the shop- 
 boy to measure me off a costly dress.' 
 
 ' O yes, I remember the morning very well,' 
 said Frank, laughing. ' You certainly came 
 home quite, out of humor, and cast most indig- 
 nant glances at my gallipots and pill-boxes.' 
 
 ' You make the most of that business,' said 
 Jane ; ' the truth is, I never but once felt the 
 humiliation of poverty, and that was when 1 
 went to beg cold meat and broken bread of 
 our landlady for poor Martha's - half-starved 
 children ' 
 
 ' I never remember feeling desperately poor 
 but once,' said Frank, ' and that was when 1 paid 
 our first quarter's rent, and had but three and 
 ninepence in my pocket, to pay the second.' 
 
 It was by reminiscences like these, that their 
 present enjoyment was heightened. Uncle 
 Joshua often called on his young relatives ; 
 but their removal had increased the distance ; 
 and he began to feel the infirmities of advanc- 
 ing life. Jane had observed, that he often 
 pressed his hand upon his heart,- and to her 
 inquiries, he said, ' a pain, but it is gone.'
 
 54 L.IT1NG UP 
 
 The house they rented was larger than they 
 thought necessary ; yet as die rent was rea- 
 sonable, and the situation good, they concluded 
 it was best to take it. The whole of it need 
 not be furnished. A large room might be left 
 for the children's play-room, and another over 
 it for a store-room. A little experience, how- 
 ever, convinced them, that they wanted all of it ; 
 and, as Jane said, ' they could furnish these 
 two rooms from the interest of their legacy.' 
 
 They soon found that the size of the house 
 required an additional domestic. Indeed they 
 seemed to have attained new importance by 
 its size and situation. Mrs. Hart, on this oc- 
 casion, acknowledged Jane as an acquaintance, 
 and made a morning visit, sporting her camel's 
 hair shawl, which, to use her own phrase, 
 ' looked still fresh and lovely.' She had never 
 remembered to reimburse Jane for her sub- 
 scription. 
 
 It was really astonishing, how fast the Ful- 
 tons became known. People in the first so- 
 ciety, as it is termed, began to ask who they 
 were ? Those who called, professed them- 
 selves delighted with Jane's 'sweet, humble
 
 TO THE MEANS. 55 
 
 manner,' and determined to ' patronize her.' 
 As yet, however, they had only reached the 
 magic circle of genteel society ; they had not 
 stepped over it. They had no heart-burnings 
 when their opposite neighbor gave a splendid 
 ball, and did not invite them ; and yet, Jane 
 said, ' on her children's account, she was glad 
 to have a different circle of friends from what 
 she formerly had. The Watsons, her uncle's 
 oracles, were very clever people, but not such 
 as she wished Tier children to be intimate with. 
 It is true, Mrs. Watson never visited, and the 
 acquaintance had" not been kept up after her 
 marriage ; but her uncle thought all the world 
 of them, which, she confessed, she did not. 
 
 Poor Jane ! The enemy had begun to sow 
 his tares ; and pride and ambition were spring- 
 ing up in her heart. Dr. Fulton undoubted!) 
 derived some advantage from their change of 
 residence, and, while Jane exulted for her 
 children, he exulted for his profession ; his pa- 
 tients were more able to pay, and he began to 
 have a run among the opulent. 
 
 Mr. Bradish, with his millions, had the good 
 fortune, for Frank, to be taken dangerously ill
 
 56 LIVINGUP 
 
 of a fever, when Dr. R. was absent ; and Dr. 
 Fulton was sent for. From this time, he be- 
 came one of their family physicians. 
 
 With all this increase of consequence, their 
 habits were much the same. The happiness 
 and improvement of the children was the great 
 object. If they were extravagant, it was in 
 schools. Even Mr. Bradish could not be 
 more particular than Dr. Fulton, in the excel- 
 lence of the schools to which he sent his chil- 
 dren. Accordingly, they were sent to those 
 which had the highest reputation, as their im- 
 provement was the first wish of their parents. 
 The neighborhood into, which they had moved 
 was a fashionable one ; and our city has not 
 yet attained the happy eminence of not know- 
 ing who lives in the same block of buildings 
 with us. Most of these left a card ; and now 
 and then a wandering invitation reached them, 
 for a ball ; but it was subject to no discussion. 
 Frank wrote a regret, when a leisure moment 
 came ; for Jane was little in the habit of 
 using her pen ; and to those who are not, even 
 answering a note is a work of magnitude. 
 Their next door neighbors were the Reeds,
 
 TOTHE MEANS. 57 
 
 and Mrs. Reed and Jane soon became familiar 
 friends. It was the first really stylish family 
 Into which Jane had become initiated. It 
 certainly opened a new world to her. She 
 saw forms and ceremonies used, of which she 
 had no conception. She learnt that napkins 
 and silver forks were essential to her dinner 
 table, that Mrs. Reed could not use a steel 
 fork ; consequently, other people could not. 
 In these and various other things, Jane became 
 an apt scholar. The consequence was, that 
 their expenses gradually increased. Yet there 
 were luxuries for which Jane could only sigh ; 
 for she felt that they were far beyond her ; for 
 instance, Brussels carpets and pier-glasses, and 
 above all, a centre-lamp. 
 
 ' How rich the Reeds must be ! ' said she, 
 one evening, when they returned from a visit 
 they had been making there. 
 
 'You are mistaken,' said Frank; { Mr 
 Reed's income is but very little more than 
 ours.' 
 
 ' Not more than ours"? ' said Jane ; then how 
 can he afford to furnish his house so elegantly?' 
 
 ' I protest I do n't know,' said Frank ; ' but
 
 58 LIVINGUP 
 
 he says his wife is an excellent manager. I 
 wish, Jane, you would find out how they con- 
 trive the matter, and perhaps we can take a" 
 leaf out of their book.' 
 
 Mi's. Reed had all the little vanity of being 
 able to make a show on small means, and when 
 Jane humbly asked advice and direction, will- 
 ingly granted it. 
 
 ' In the first place,' said she, ' I set it down 
 as a rule, from the first, that the only way we 
 could get forward in the world, was to live in 
 genteel style, and put the best foot foremost. 
 You would be astonished, between ourselves, to 
 know how little we have to spend ; but then, 
 I have a great deal of contrivance. What 
 wages do you give your servants ? ' 
 
 To Jane's information, she replied, 
 
 ' You give too much. By the by, I can 
 recommend an excellent seamstress to you, 
 who will sew for twelve cents a day. But, 
 my dear Mrs. Fulton, you must not wear that 
 shabby bonnet ; and, excuse me, you do want 
 a new pelisse tremendously. It really is not 
 doing justice to your husband, when he has 
 such a run of business, and such a handsome 
 income, to dress in this manner.'
 
 TO THE MEANS. 59 
 
 ' I do not know how it is,' said Jane ; ' but 
 we spend a great deal more than we used to ; 
 we send our children to expensive schools.' 
 
 ' That is entirely a mistake. I do n't send 
 mine to any ; it is my system. They get such 
 vulgar habits, associating with the lower class- 
 es ! I educate them myself.' 
 
 ' But do they learn as well as at school ? ' 
 
 ' How can a woman of your sense ask that 
 question ? As if a mother could not teach her 
 children better than strangers ! Take my ad- 
 vice, and save all the money you are paying 
 for them ; it is just throwing it away. Edu- 
 cate them yourself. Rousseau approves of it.' 
 
 ' But you are out a good deal ; who instructs 
 them while you are gone ? ' 
 
 ' I leave them lessons, and they are recited to 
 the chamber-maid. When Fanny is sixteen, 
 I intend she shall go to one of these fashion- 
 able schools, just for the name of it.' 
 
 1 Really,' said Jane, ' I could not undertake 
 to instruct my children. My own education 
 was not thorough enough.' 
 
 ' Nonsense ! You can read, and that is all 
 that is necessary. What do those people do,
 
 60 LIVING UP 
 
 who keep such expensive schools ? They in 
 struct from books ; and you can do the same.' 
 
 Though Jane did not entirely adopt Mrs. 
 Reed's ideas, she thought, with her, that they 
 were paying an enormous sum for schools ; 
 and both she and Frank agreed, as demands 
 for money increased, that they might just as 
 well go to cheaper schools. The penalties of 
 living beyond the means, most generally fall 
 upon the children of the family ; not that pa 
 rents love them less than other appurtenances, 
 but because deficiencies here are more easily 
 kept out of sight. We speak not of dress or 
 food, but of education. 
 
 Many declaim on the expense of schools, 
 who forget that teachers are qualified, by de- 
 voting the best part of their lives to the sub- 
 ject : that the education of children cannot 
 be taken up, like hair-dressing, merely for a 
 living ; but that, to be successful, it must be 
 founded upon higher and nobler motives, and 
 deserves a compensation equivalent to the 
 preparation and importance of the object. 
 Mrs. Reed thought otherwise, when she found 
 how little trouble it was to educate her chil
 
 TO THE MEANS. 61 
 
 dren, with her chamber-maid for an assistant. 
 Her indignation rose proportionably against 
 expensive schools, and she called the heads of 
 them nothing but pickpockets, and exulted at 
 her own wisdom in keeping clear of them., 
 Those who saw not the interior, spoke of her 
 as a most wonderful woman, ' amidst all her 
 visiting and occupations, to find time to edu- 
 cate her children.' 
 
 Perhaps there is no class of men less liable 
 to extravagance than physicians. Their gains 
 are slow and laborious, and they toil for daily 
 bread from hour to hour. No large sum comes 
 in, like a lawyer's fee, for a few words of ad- 
 vice ; and no lucky speculations on coffee, 
 indigo, or cotton, raise him, like a merchant, 
 from moderate means to sudden affluence. But 
 the seeds of luxury and extravagance may be 
 scattered every where ; and even the very 
 security that Frank felt in his profession, and 
 in his own moderate desires, had, perhaps 
 made him less vigilant. 
 
 Though Jane did not entirely trust to Mrs. 
 Reed's opinions as to teachers and schools, on 
 many other subjects sire yielded implicit defer
 
 62 LIVINOUP 
 
 ence. The consequence was, that, from a 
 simple dressed woman, she soon became a 
 fashionable lady, bonneted and blonded a-la 
 mode, and, even to her own surprise, a fine, 
 stylish looking woman. Frank, who had hith- 
 erto only appreciated his wife's virtues and 
 amiable qualities, began now to pride himself 
 on her elegance. The moment this sort of 
 pride takes possession of a husband, he delights 
 to hang his idol with finery and trinkets. How 
 much of honest, faithful affection and esteem 
 mingles with this tribute, depends on the char- 
 acter ; in the present instance, there was an 
 uncommon degree of affection. For many 
 years, they had been all the world to each 
 other, had struggled through a degree of 
 
 ' OO O O 
 
 penury, had enjoyed comparative affluence 
 meekly and thankfully, and even now, Jane 
 sometimes doubted whether their enlarged in- 
 come had increased their happiness. She 
 still, however, continued her charities ; and 
 one day, when she applied to her husband for 
 a sum to give away, was surprised, when he 
 replied, ' Really, Jane, I cannot afford such 
 a donation.'
 
 TO THE' MEANS. 63 
 
 ' Not afford it ! ' exclaimed she ; ' why, it is 
 no more than we have given for several years.' 
 
 * But our expenses have greatly increased.' 
 
 ' And so has our income,' said Jane, tri 
 umphantly. 
 
 Frank looked thoughtful, and shook his 
 head. 
 
 ' Well,' said Jane, cheerfully, ' we have been 
 talking about getting a centre-table ; now sup- 
 pose we give that up, and devote the money to 
 charity.' 
 
 ' As you please,' said Frank, coldly. 
 
 Jane was silent for a moment, and then said, 
 
 ' No, dear ; it is not as I please, but as you 
 please.' 
 
 'A centre-table was your own proposal,' 
 said Frank. 
 
 ' 1 know it ; but I should not have thought 
 of it, if Mrs. Reed had not said it was neces- 
 sary.' 
 
 ' Mrs. Reed seems to have become your 
 oracle, with all her folly. Then it was only 
 because she said so, that we were to have a 
 centre-table ? ' 
 
 ' No, Frank, not entirely ; I thought it
 
 64 L I V I N G U P 
 
 would be very convenient ; and then it gives 
 a room such a sociable look ; besides, as we 
 had a centre-Jam]} ! ' 
 
 'I don't see how that helps your argument ; 
 the table do n't hang to the lamp, does it ? ' 
 
 ' No ; and I begin to think it is of no conse- 
 quence. Indeed, I should never have thought 
 of it, if it had not been for Mi's. Reed.' 
 
 ' Mrs. Reed again ! ' exclaimed Frank, pee- 
 vishly ; ' I really think that woman's acquaint- 
 ance is a curse.' 
 
 Jane made no reply, but her eyes filled with 
 teais. 
 
 ' Since you are so unwilling to give up either 
 the centre-table or your donation, you shall 
 have both,' said Frank ; ' so pray go and select 
 one with your friend.' 
 
 ' Can you think me so unreasonable ? ' re- 
 plied Jane. There was a pathos in her voice 
 that restored her husband to his good nature. 
 
 ' Unreasonable ? np, Jane, I never thought 
 you so for a moment ; but I do think Mrs. 
 Reed is very officious.' 
 
 ' You must remember,' said Jane, ingenu- 
 ously, ' how often I apply to her for informa-
 
 TO THE M E A N'S . 65 
 
 tion about things of which I am as ignorant as 
 a child. When I ask you, you say, " Ask 
 Mrs. Reed ; she knows all about it." It is a 
 knowledge she has about what I have not, that 
 gives her any influence with me, or makes her 
 my oracle* 
 
 ' You could not think I was serious when I 
 called her your oracle I was merely jesting.' 
 
 ' Let me ask you, then,' said Jane, affection- 
 ately, ' not to jest with me any more. You 
 have done it often lately, and it makes me very 
 unhappy.' 
 
 1 Nonsense ! It gives a piquancy to do- 
 mestic tcte-a-tctes., which are apt to be a little 
 dull.' 
 
 ' We did not use to find them so ' 
 
 * Well, Jane, you must remember that now 
 my time and thoughts are constantly occupied ; 
 and besides .that, as we have only an income 
 sufficient for our own expenses, it is a little 
 vexatious, to have you ask me for money to 
 give away. All our expenses are greatly in-' 
 creased.' 
 
 'Would it not be better to try to reduce 
 6
 
 66 , LIVING UP 
 
 them ? My uncle brought me up with a hor- 
 ror of getting into debt.' 
 
 ' I have the same feeling, Jane ; and it is 
 possible embarrassment, not actual, that troubles 
 me, and makes me sometimes a little petulant.' 
 
 ' Ah,' said Jane, c that is the history of your 
 jesting.' 
 
 Frank laughed. 
 
 ' Let us give up the centre-table/ said Jane. 
 
 ' No ; I think we do want that. As to the 
 Donation, it does not appear to me that we are 
 .ailed upon to give money. If there is one 
 lass of men that do more than another for the 
 ooor, it "is physicians. I am sure I should be 
 vorth an independent fortune, if I had been 
 laid for all my attendance on the poor.' 
 
 ' Do you think, then, what you have done 
 xempts you from doing ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly not. I am willing still to go 
 
 hen I am sent for. And if I give them a 
 
 >rtion of time and labor, I do my part.' 
 
 ' It seems to me,' said Jane, ' that every 
 
 ^dy may reason in the same way. The 
 
 i..:rgvman may say, if he gives his spiritual 
 
 Mce and instruction, he has done enough.
 
 TO THE MEANS. 67 
 
 Even a lawyer may be willing to give his pro- 
 fessional services ; and if the poor do not want 
 them, lie is not the less charitable. I do n't 
 see but their main assistance must come from 
 butchers and bakers.' 
 
 ' Perhaps it would be better for them if they 
 had none.' 
 
 ' My dear Frank, do n't begin to jest again,' 
 said Jane, half afraid of what would next 
 come. ' I have not answered Mrs. Reed's 
 invitation for this evening ; therefore, we will 
 decline it.' 
 
 ' Decline it ! ' replied Frank. ' Why should 
 we ? ' 
 
 ' Had we not better break off our acquaint- 
 ance ? You said it was a curse.' 
 
 ' \ ou are in a strange humor, Jane, this 
 morning. I should be extremely sorry that 
 you should do any thing so rude. Mrs. Reed 
 certainly lias knowledge that is valuable to us. 
 I do n't wish you to give up your intercourse 
 with her. But I beg you always to exert 
 your own excellent judgment, and not let her 
 have any influence over your mind, without 
 first weighing the subject.'
 
 68 LIVING UP 
 
 As if we could have constant Intercourse 
 with any one, without being influenced by 
 their habits and opinions I Frank had set 
 Jane a task beyond her strength. The centre- 
 table was purchased, and then an elegant cen- 
 tre-vase. 
 
 But Mrs. Reed was not the only fashionable 
 lady that had taken up Jane. There was 
 Mrs. Bradish, whose "husband was said to be 
 worth a million, and had a right to spend what 
 lie pleased. Nothing could be more flattering 
 than her attentions. It would seem as if 
 wealth diffused some of its golden glare among 
 the lookers-on. Else, why is so much defer- 
 ence paid to it ? In vain we say, philosophi- 
 cally, it is dross ; or experimentally, it benefits 
 not us. Still, the rich have their humble imi- 
 tators, and mammon its worshippers. Frank 
 became the companion of the wealthy, and it 
 was necessary that he should not disgrace his 
 intimates by a penurious style of living. He 
 and Jane were invited to dinners and soirees. 
 Such constant invitations must be returned ; 
 and they began to make entertainments.. 
 Hitherto, the little Misses Fultons hati kept their
 
 TOTHEMEANS. 69 
 
 seats at the dinner-table ; but their dinner was 
 at a most inconvenient hour to accommodate 
 them. It interfered with morning calls ; and 
 it was determined the children should dine 
 wholly in the nursery. 
 
 Jane thought it a singular piece of good 
 fortune, that she should be taken up by three 
 such friends as Mrs. Reed, Mrs.- Bradish and 
 Mrs. Hart. The first knew every thing' and 
 everybody; the second was rich enough to 
 make ducks and drakes of her money ; and 
 the last was the mirror of fashion and dress. 
 It might be rationally asked, what benefit she 
 derived from this triple alliance ? But it was a 
 question she never asked herself. 
 
 With all this, however, she was obliged 
 unwillingly to feel that neither her happiness 
 nor her comfort was increased. 
 
 . As the appearance of property had become 
 necessary, economy must ,be practised some- 
 where, to bring out the year. This, of course, 
 fell upon the interior. Jane had been in the 
 habit of superintending her own affairs, and 
 seeing that nothing was wasted, and nothing 
 used superfluously. This system, while it
 
 70 LIVING UP 
 
 extended to each and to all, was cheerfully 
 received. But when the domestics found that 
 the luxuries of the kitchen were not propor- 
 tionate to the parlor, they told her she might 
 ' look out for other help.' Those mistresses of 
 families who have ever experienced the har- 
 assing labor of keeping up a showy appear- 
 ance in the parlor, with strict economy in the 
 kitchen, will sympathize with poor Jane in her 
 arduous task. They will understand, with 
 what reluctance she entered its precincts, and 
 how often she was driven from it by the super- 
 cilious looks and answers of the lady .who 
 ruled the roast. All these difficulties she 
 encountered ; and sometimes looked back, 
 with a sigh, to her first experiment in house- 
 keeping, when, with her woman of all works, 
 and Martha's little girl, every thing went 
 smoothly on, in harmony and confidence. But 
 this was a trifle, compared to the apparent 
 change in her husband's temper. From frank- 
 hearted, open confidence in all around him, he 
 began to be tenacious of civility ; thought 
 such a one looked coldly ; it must be because 
 they had not returned their call, or some other
 
 TO THE MEANS. 71 
 
 reason as important. Then he sometimes 
 repeated his jests, which Jane felt were sar- 
 casms. 
 
 c How long it is,' said Jane, one morning, 
 ' since Uncle Joshua has been here ! ' 
 
 ' I suppose,' said Frank, ' he feels an awk- 
 wardness on account of our different rank in 
 life.' 
 
 < O, no ; that is wholly unlike him. Sup- 
 pose we send and ask him to dine to-day ? ' 
 
 ' Not to-day. I have invited Professor R. 
 and Dr. B. You know they are both intel- 
 lectual men. He would not enjoy his dinner.' 
 
 ' Besides,' said Jane, ' when he comes, we 
 must let all the children dine at the table. 
 We will ask him to-morrow, and appoint din- 
 ner, at two.' 
 
 ' With all my heart,' said Frank, as he went 
 out to pay a visit to the market, followed by 
 his servant with the market-basket. 
 
 Jane began her preparations for dinner. 
 Her constant change of servants, and increas- 
 ing trouble with them, often made this an ar- 
 duous task. She was soon in the midst of 
 glass and china; and, assisted by her cham-
 
 72 LIVING UP 
 
 ber-maid, began to lay the table. They had 
 got it nearly completed, with its plates, wine- 
 glasses and tumblers, all in a row, when she 
 was alarmed by a loud ring at the door. The 
 chamber-maid was despatched, with strict in- 
 junctions to let nobody in, but say she was not 
 at home. There was evidently a parley, and 
 the step of a person was heard approaching. 
 With a sudden feeling of mortification at being 
 caught, Jane rushed into the closet, and closed 
 the door. The sound of uncle Joshua's voice 
 struck her ear as he entered. 
 
 ' Are you sure she is not at home ? ' said he 
 to the girl. 
 
 ' O, yes, sir, quite sure. I saw her put on 
 her things and go out.' 
 
 ' How long has she been gone ? ' 
 
 ' Full an hour,' said the girl, who, as these 
 kind of people often do, overacted her part. 
 
 'Then, probably, she will be back soon, 
 and I will wait for her.' 
 
 ' O, no, sir ; she said she should not be back 
 till near dinner time.' 
 
 ' Why, you look as if you were going to 
 have a company of aldermen to dine.'
 
 TOTHE MEANS. 73 
 
 The girl answered, in a simpering tone, 
 ' No, sir ; only two or three friends.' 
 
 Jane, during this conversation, felt a con- 
 sternation that disabled her from acting judi- 
 ciously, which would have been to have come 
 out from her hiding-place, and tell the simple 
 truth. But she knew her uncle's straight for- 
 ward mind, and she was sure he would not 
 make the distinction which custom and fashion 
 warrant, of not at home, as meaning engaged. 
 The girl, too, had so positively implicated her 
 in a falsehood, had shown so completely that 
 she understood no qualification, that Jane felt 
 the utmost horror at being detected. She 
 actually looked out of the window, to see if 
 there was no possibility of escape. In the 
 mean time, uncle Joshua laid down his hat 
 and cane, seated himself by the open window, 
 and asked for a glass of water. 
 
 Jane, at length, came to the conclusion, 
 that she had better remain perfectly quiet, 
 that his calls were never very long, and she 
 would send for him the next day, and should 
 escape all unpleasant feeling. To her dismay, 
 however, she presently heard him call for the 
 7
 
 74 LIVING UP 
 
 morning's paper. She knew he was one of 
 those inveterate newspaper readers, that go 
 through the whole ; and she tried to be re- 
 signed to at least an hour's imprisonment. 
 Alas ! what a situation ! The dinner at a 
 stand, the marketing would be back, and 
 ducks and geese in waiting ! At length, how- 
 ever, uncle Joshua got to the end of the ever- 
 U sting newspaper; and, as he folded it up, 
 told the girl, who had entered the room every 
 five minutes, to say to his niece, that ' he was 
 sorry not to see hpr, but could not wait any 
 longer.' Then turning suddenly upon ,the 
 closet door, he grasped the handle. 
 
 ' Sir, sir,' exclaimed the girl, < that is the 
 wrong door.' 
 
 It was too late. He had turned the lock, 
 and the door came open ! There stood Jane 
 in one corner, not pale as a lily, but the color 
 of a full-blown piony. His surprise, for a 
 moment, was extreme. But he was not slow 
 of comprehension ; and the truth rushed upon 
 him, greatly exaggerated, for he believed it 
 was a contrivance to avoid seeing him. He 
 stood silent, with his eye fixed upon her.
 
 TOTHEMEANS. 75 
 
 ' Dear uncle,' said she, ' I thought if was a 
 stranger. I did not know it was you, when 1 
 ran into the closet.' 
 
 ' Silence ! ' said he ; 'no more falsehoods. 
 Begone ! ' turning to ths chamber-maid. ' And 
 you have learned that poor, ignorant girl to 
 peril her soul by falsehoods ! Jane, Jane, I 
 have loved you like my own child ; but I shall 
 trouble you no more. You shall not be obliged 
 to send word to your old uncle, that you are 
 not at home.' And he turned to go. 
 
 ' You must not go, my dear, dear uncle,' 
 said Jane, throwing her arms round him. ' You 
 must hear my explanation.' 
 
 ' 1 tell you I will not be the cause of any 
 more falsehoods.' 
 
 ' And you will give me up ! Your sister's 
 only child, who was left an orphan to your 
 care ; whom you have carried in your arms, 
 whom you have held upon your knee, whom 
 you have cherished in your bosom, when there 
 was no other bosom to receive her ! ' 
 
 ' Then,' said the old man, with a faltering 
 voice, c then, you were my comfort, my own 
 true-hearted Jane. Then I had nothing but
 
 75 LIVING UP 
 
 you to love ; and now I have nothing, noth- 
 ing.' And he threw himself upon a chair, 
 and put his handkerchief to his eyes., 
 
 ' My dear uncle, only hear me. I told the 
 girl to say that I was not at home if any body 
 called.' 
 
 ' And yet, you were at home ! ' said he, in- 
 dignantly. 
 
 ' But every body says so, it is not any 
 falsehood. It only means that they are not at 
 home to company. It is understood.' 
 
 ' Understood they are hid in the closet ? ' 
 His anger evidently began to yield, for he 
 laughed out. ' O, Jane, what a ridiculous 
 figure you cut, when I stumbled upon the 
 wrong door ! I am glad I did it ; it is a good 
 lesson for you.' 
 
 ' It is, indeed, uncle. I promise you, I will 
 never say I am not at home again when I am.' 
 
 * Cooped up,' continued he, again laughing, 
 ' in one corner, like a mouse in a cheese ; and 
 there you had been shut up a whole hour, like 
 a naughty child.' 
 
 ' I shall blush to think of it as long as I 
 live.'
 
 TO THE MEANS. 77 
 
 'And so you ought, to tell a downright 
 falsehood ! ' 
 
 ' Dear uncle, nobody calls it a falsehood ; it 
 only means you are very busy, and cannot see 
 company.' 
 
 ' Then why not say so at once ? But the girl 
 said you were out ; that you would not be 
 home till near dinner.' 
 
 . ' That was entirely her own addition. She 
 had no right to say so ; she was not told to say 
 any thing but that I was not at home.' 
 
 ' You allow, then, that she told an untruth ? ' 
 
 Certainly, I do.' 
 
 ' Now tell me, Jane, if you think she thought 
 it more of an untruth to say you were out, than 
 that you were not at home. It is all the same 
 thing.' 
 
 Jane found it was in vain to try to convince 
 her uncle, and she only hung upon him and 
 begged of him to love her as he used to do. 
 The old man could not long retain his resent- 
 ment, and he said, with a serious air, ' I will- 
 ingly forgive you for your offence to me ; but 
 I am no priest. I cannot forgive your telling a 
 falsehood. You must ask pardon of a higher 
 power.'
 
 78 LIVING UP 
 
 When he made a motion to go, Jane entreat- 
 ed him to stay to dinner. ' It is such a long 
 walk,' said she, ' you must not go ; we were 
 going to send for you to-morrow. I shall not 
 think you have forgiven me, if you refuse.' 
 
 Uncle Joshua at length consented, and she 
 felt as if a load was taken from her heart, for 
 she loved him affectionately. She carried him 
 into another room, got him all the newspapers 
 she could collect, and went cheerfully on with 
 her preparations. 
 
 When Frank returned, he expressed his 
 pleasure at seeing uncle Joshua ; for however 
 unfashionable and inelegant he midit deem 
 
 O O 
 
 him, he could not refuse him his tribute of 
 respect. The guests were men of good sense 
 anu intelligence. They were struck with the 
 independence and originality of uncle Joshua's 
 character. He conversed without timidity or 
 affectation, and felt no mortification at not 
 knowing what never came within the sphere 
 of his observation. All this Jane would have 
 highly enjoyed, could she have spared any time 
 from her dinner. The servant was a raw country 
 lad, who required being told when to take a plate
 
 TO THE MEANS. 79 
 
 and where to put one. The boiled turkey was 
 underdone, and the ducks overdone ; the 
 oyster-sauce spoilt before it reached the table ; 
 and by the tune dinner was over, she looked 
 as red as if she had been cooking it herself. 
 When Jane rose to leave the table, her uncle 
 said he would go with her to see the children. 
 They repaired to the nursery, found them with 
 empty plates, greased to the ears, loudly vocif- 
 erating for Sally, the chamber-maid, who was 
 assisting below, to bring them more dinner. 
 Jane at last succeeded in quieting them, and 
 told her uncle that the nursery-maid left them 
 the day before. The Misses Fultons, with one 
 voice, said, ' Hurra ! it was a good day for them ; 
 for she was so cross they hated her.' After 
 uncle Joshua had made his visit to them, he 
 said, ' Now Jane, I want to see you alone.' 
 
 Jane led the way, with fearful misgivings ; 
 for she saw a shade of melancholy on his coun- 
 tenance. 
 
 ' My dear,' said he, ' sit down by me, and 
 take every thing kindly as I mean it. You 
 know I first opposed your marriage, because I 
 thought your husband could not make enough
 
 80 LIVINGUP 
 
 to support you ; but afterwards I saw I was 
 mistaken. I saw you not only comfortable, 
 but possessing all that seemed necessary ; for 
 then, you were moderate in your desires and 
 expenses. I have since felt misgivings, when 
 I saw you increasing your manner of living. 
 But I said, they know best their own means, 
 and I believed that you were at least happier ; 
 but indeed, Jane, I must say I find it other- 
 wise. When 1 last dined with you in R. 
 Street, your dinner was simple and well cook- 
 ed ; your little smiling children round you, well- 
 behaved, and patiently waiting for their turn to 
 be helped. How was it to-day ? A costly and 
 more than abundant dinner spoiled in the cook- 
 ing ; a change of plates, knives and forks, with 
 difficulty to be procured. The children shut 
 up in a chamber, noisy and half-fed, and their 
 mother looking feverish, anxious, and unhappy, 
 and unable to attend to the conversation at the 
 table, hardly to give answers to her guests, so 
 necessarily was she engrossed with the dinner ' 
 
 ' O, uncle, what a picture ! ' 
 
 ' I dare say, Jane, you want to tell me 
 every body does so ; but I know better than
 
 TO THE MEANS. 81 
 
 that. It is very well for people to live in 
 what is called style, if they have all things 
 in agreement ; if they can afford to have the 
 best of attendance, of cooks, &c. ; but there is 
 no gentility in doing things by halves.' 
 
 ' Indeed, uncle,' said Jane, rallying her 
 spirits, ' we were very unfortunate to-day. 
 Our servants are all bad. I hope to get bet- 
 ter ; and I have a very good nursery-maid 
 engaged.' 
 
 ' A nursery-maid ! Take care of your chil- 
 dren yourself; don't make them over to a 
 nursery-maid ; let them have their seats at 
 your table. I feel indignation when I see 
 these little men and women turned over to 
 nursery-maids. And now, Jane, I know I 
 have made this day an uncomfortable one for 
 you, and God knows it has been so for me. I 
 should be sorry, if I had not meant, by all my 
 advice, to do you the greatest kindness I have 
 ever done you yet ; and I close with one re- 
 mark, that no style of living is good, or, to use 
 your own plifase, genteel, that is not thorough, 
 consistent, and well carried through. God 
 bless you ! ' and he hurried away.
 
 82 LIVING UP 
 
 A tribute of tears followed his departure. 
 In the midst of them, Frank entered. His 
 friends had taken their leave. 
 
 ' What is the matter, Jane ? ' said he. ' O, 
 I understand ; uncle Joshua has been reading 
 you a lecture upon extravagance. I suppose 
 he never saw such a dinner ! He knows 
 nothing of fashionable life ; and, I dare say, he 
 thinks we are on the road to ruin. Come, tell 
 me what he said about it.' 
 
 ' He said,' replied Jane, sobbing, ' it was 
 badly served and badly cooked.' 
 
 Frank looked rather crest-fallen. ' Ex- 
 tremely polite, I must confess.' 
 
 ' It was all true,' said Jane. I am mortified 
 about it.' 
 
 ' Never mind,' said Frank. ' I told them 
 what cursed servants we had.' 
 
 From this time, uncle Joshua's visits were 
 less and less frequent ; and even Jane began 
 to think it was hardly worth while for him to 
 take the trouble of coming. 
 
 When the year was drawing to a close, 
 Frank found, with some dismay, that, instead
 
 TO THE MEANS. OO 
 
 of adding to his little capital, it was with diffi- 
 culty that he could get through without dimin- 
 ishing it. This conviction harassed him, and 
 he began to be anxious about the- future. He 
 could not conceal from himself ihat his business 
 had decreased, probably, by inattention. Still 
 Jane was his confidant ; and to her he com- 
 municated his anxieties. She proposed they 
 should retrench in their expenses. But, after 
 various calculations, there seemed to be nothing 
 they could give up, except what was too tri- 
 fling to make any difference. As if domestic 
 economy did not consist in trifles ! While in 
 this state of perplexity, Frank received a pro- 
 posal of joining a speculation that wore a very 
 promising aspect. When he talked of it to 
 Jane, she, at first, felt a timidity in venturing 
 their all. But she was easily convinced that 
 it was better than retrenching. The little 
 capital which they had been, all their married 
 life, accumulating, with the legacy, was now 
 invested in an enterprise that Frank was very 
 sure would yield at least twenty per cent. ; and 
 as they were positively determined not to go
 
 84 LIVING DP 
 
 beyond their present annual expenditure, the 
 interest would be constantly added to the origi- 
 nal investment ; and there was no reason why 
 they should not, in time, be wealthy. 
 
 ' I confess,' said Frank, ' I am sick of this 
 laborious life ; sick of being every body's 
 servant. There is no such hard task-master 
 as the public. Even the slaves, about whom 
 we make so much fuss, have their sure mo- 
 ments of recreation, and time allowed for their 
 food. But physicians, who depend on their 
 profession for a daily living, have not a moment 
 they can call their own. Let the dinner be 
 ever so tempting, we must leave it untasted. 
 And it is almost necessary for us to learn to 
 sleep, like horses, standing, and ready to run 
 at a moment's warning.' 
 
 ' It is very hard,' said Jane, in a sympathiz- 
 ing tone. 
 
 ' And after all,' continued Frank, ' hardly to 
 be able to make a living ! ' 
 
 ' How unfortunate,' said Jane, c that you 
 fixed upon this profession I '
 
 TO THE MEANS. 85 
 
 ' It lias been a tolerable stepping-stone, 
 however,' said Frank. 
 
 This is a phrase that is always recurring to 
 the worldly and ambitious, in mind, if not in 
 conversation. With them, the world is made 
 up of stepping-stones. One rises upon anoth- 
 er, like a flight of stairs ; and when they get 
 near the summit, their heads often grow giddy, 
 and they fall. 
 
 ' At any rate,' said Jane, with some twinges 
 of conscience, ' we have made out much better 
 than we had any right to expect, considering 
 we had nothing to begin with. We have, till 
 this year, always lived within our means.' 
 
 We must take great pains to shut our eyes 
 upon truth. There is a radiance about it, that 
 makes the outline of its form perceptible, even 
 amongst the clouds of dust and rubbish that 
 are sometimes heaped upon it. Error does 
 not so often arise from ignorance of truth, as 
 unwillingness to receive it. Many a wander- 
 ing thought had entered both Dr. and Mrs. 
 Fulton's minds, that they were departing from 
 the principle on which they first set out, of
 
 86 LIVING UP TO THE MEANS. 
 
 limiting their desires to their means. But they 
 consoled themselves with the idea, that the 
 Reeds, and twenty others, lived more expen- 
 sively than they did, with no larger income ; 
 therefore, it was all right and proper. 
 
 When Dr. Fulton closed his account for 
 the year, his expenses exactly met his in 
 come
 
 THREE 
 
 EXPERIMENTS OF LIVING. 
 
 PART III. 
 
 LIVING BEYOND THE MEANS.
 
 LIVING 
 BEYOND THE MEANS 
 
 IT would be hard, if authors, who lavish so 
 much ink and paper on the public, should not 
 derive advantage from public improvements. 
 In the spirit of modern invention, they ought 
 to be allowed to post rapidly over space, and 
 make use of steam and rail-roads to expedite 
 their progress. 
 
 We now travel on for a few years, passing 
 events as indistinctly as the locomotive passes 
 houses, trees and people, and at length stop at 
 a landing-place. 
 
 Frank's speculations had been successful, 
 and he began to feel the self-consequence of 
 wealth. 
 
 ' We pay an enormous rent for this house,' 
 said he, one day, as he rose to close a blind, 
 8
 
 90 LIVING BEYOND 
 
 through which the setting sun poured its intol- 
 erable brightness. 
 
 4 We thought it low, when we rented it/ 
 said Jane, ' and they say rents have risen.' 
 
 ' I mean enormous for its size and situation. 
 There is no reason why we should remain in 
 it. Our lease expires this year, and I ehall 
 not renew it.' 
 
 Jane felt a reluctance to moving, and said, 
 ' It was but the other day that Mrs. Reed and 
 I were speaking of the block, and saying, what 
 convenient, genteel houses they were.' 
 
 1 Yes ; very well, very well for the Reeds ; 
 but we can afford something better. The 
 house next to Mr. Bradish's, that he owns, is to 
 be let. We will go and look at it to-morrow.' 
 
 The next morning they went to see it. It 
 was a very fine house, and in a very fine situa- 
 tion ; but the rent even Frank hesitated about. 
 
 < The Bradishes would be most delightful 
 neighbors,' he said. ' They were people of 
 established rank and wealth ; they were not all 
 the time struggling to be thought something of, 
 as the Reeds were, who, he could not help 
 thinking, were a little envious of his superior 
 success in the world.'
 
 THE MEANS. 91 
 
 It was a truth, that Dr. and Mrs. Fulton 
 had left their ' patronizing' friends behind them, 
 and, .like the ungrateful world, felt a disinclina- 
 tion to look back. The intercourse, however, 
 was as frequent as ever, but not as pleasant. 
 Mrs. Reed had a wonderful faculty of saying 
 nide, indifferent things, in so guarded ' a man- 
 ner, that only the spirit of them could be felt. 
 Jane often wondered what it was that made 
 her nervous and uncomfortable, when she was 
 with her, and certainly felt no regret at the 
 idea of getting a little further off. The more 
 they thought of the house, of their alienation 
 towards the Reeds, and their growing attach- 
 ment to the Bradishes, the more inclined thev 
 were to quit their present residence. 
 
 But a new obstacle presented itself. Mr. 
 Bradish wished to sell the house, and there- 
 fore would not let them take a lease of it. 
 Frank said, * to carpet and furnish such a 
 house as that, and perhaps be obliged to leave 
 it at the end of the year, was out of the ques- 
 tion.' The only alternative, then, was, to give 
 it up, or purchase it. This alternative was a 
 subject of much discussion between him and
 
 92 LIVING BEY05D 
 
 Jane. Not that she had any head for business ; 
 'out she was his dearest friend, and there was 
 a straight forward good sense in her mind, 
 when it was not biased by her affection and 
 deference for her husband, of which he fully 
 felt the value. She was very decided in her 
 opinion, that the house they were in was quite 
 good enough for the present ; when their 
 daughters were old enough to go into company, 
 it might be an object to get such a house. But 
 Frank assured her such a chance might not 
 then occur. Mr. Bradish had offered to make 
 the terms very easy to him. Real estate was 
 every day rising in value ; and he was fully 
 convinced it was a good thing, merely as a 
 matter of speculation. This word Jane had 
 so often heard from her husband's lips, that it 
 began to sound to her like wealth. 
 
 ' But how,' said Jane, ' can you pay for it ? 
 Have you thirty thousand dollars at command ? * 
 
 ' I can easily command it. To tell you the 
 truth, Jane, Mr. Bradish has offered to let me 
 the money.' 
 
 ' Let you the money to buy his own house ! 
 How strange 1 '
 
 THE MEANS. 93 
 
 ' Yes. He is very desirous that we should 
 have it ; and, as it is not convenient for me to 
 withdraw so much of my property, he will 
 raake it quite easy to me. In other words, it 
 b to remain on mortgage, and I am to pay him 
 Et leisure, by instalments.' 
 
 ' I should think this was the same thing as 
 lenting it.' 
 
 ' Not exactly ; for the house is mine. There- 
 fore, if it rises to twice its present value, I am 
 the gainer, not he.' 
 
 This was the only position Jarie compre- 
 hended ; and as her husband assured her it 
 must rise, she was fully convinced, and the 
 house was bought. 
 
 To prepare the house for their reception, now 
 wholly engrossed them. As it was a thing for 
 life, it was well worth while to strain every 
 nerve to do it in the best manner. Mrs. Brad- 
 ish had very kindly dropped a hint, that when 
 a ball was given by either family, a door might 
 be cut through, and both houses thrown into 
 one. It became, therefore, almost indispensa- 
 ble, that one house should be furnished nearly 
 as elegantly as the other. The same cabinet-
 
 94 LIVING BEYOND 
 
 maker and upholsterer was employed ; and 
 when completed, it certainly was not much 
 inferior to Mr. Bradish's. 
 
 Jane was not behind Mrs. Bradish, in cos- 
 tume or figure. Every morning, at the hour 
 for calls, she was elegantly attired for visiters. 
 Many came from curiosity. Mrs. Hart con- 
 gratulated her dear friend, on seeing her moving 
 in a sphere, for which it was evident nature 
 intended her. Mrs. Reed cautioned her against 
 any mauvaise home, that might remind one of 
 former times. Others admired her furniture 
 and arrangements, without any sly allusions. 
 On one of these gala mornings, uncle Joshua 
 was ushered into the room. Jane was fortu- 
 nately alone, and she went forward and offered 
 two fingers with a cordial air, but whispered to 
 the servant, if any one else called, while he was 
 there, to say she was engaged.' She had 
 scrupulously observed her promise, of never 
 sending word she was not at home. There 
 was a mock kind of deference in his air and 
 manner, that embarrassed Jane. 
 
 ' So,' said he, looking round him, ' we have 
 a palace here ! '
 
 THEMEANS. 9D 
 
 The house we were in, was quite too small, 
 now that our children are growing so larg,' 
 replied Jane. 
 
 ' They must be greatly beyond the common 
 size,' said uncle Joshua, ' if that house could 
 not hold them.' 
 
 ' It was a very inconvenient one ; and we 
 thought, as it was a monstrous rent, it would 
 be better to take another. Then, after we had 
 bought this, it certainly was best to furnish it 
 comfortably, as it was for life.' 
 
 ' Is it paid for ? ' asked uncle Joshua, drilv 
 
 Jane hesitated. 
 
 ' Paid for ? O certainly ; that is, yes, sir.' 
 
 ' I am glad to hear it ; otherwise, I much 
 doubt if it is taken for life.' 
 
 Jane was silent. 
 
 ' Very comfortable,' said uncle Joshua ; ' that 
 is a comfortable glass for your husband to shave 
 by ; and those are comfortable curtains, to 
 keep out the sun and cold.' Both of these 
 articles were strikingly elegant. ' That is a 
 comfortable lamp,. that hangs in the middle of 
 the room ; it almost puts out my eyes, with its 
 glass danglers. Times are strangely altered,
 
 96 LIVING BEYOND 
 
 Jane, since you and I thought such comforts 
 necessary.' 
 
 1 Frank has been very successful in his 
 speculations, uncle ; he does not now depend 
 on his profession for a living ; indeed, he thinks 
 it his duty to live as other people do, and place 
 his wife and children upon an equality with 
 others.' 
 
 ' And what do you call an equality, living 
 as luxuriously, and wasting as much time as 
 they do? Dwelling in as costly apartments, 
 and forgetting there is any other world than 
 this ? When you were left to rny care, and 
 your dear mother was gone from us, how 
 often I lamented that I could not supply her 
 place, that I could not better talk to you of 
 another world, to which she had gone ; but 
 then, Jane, I comforted myself that I knew 
 something of the duties that belonged to this, 
 and that, if I faithfully instructed you in these, 
 I should be preparing you for another. When 
 I saw you growing up, dutiful and humble, 
 charitable and self-denying, sincere, and a 
 conscientious disciple of truth, then, I felt 
 satisfied that all was well. But I begin now
 
 THEMEANS. 97 
 
 to fear, that it was a short-sighted kind of in- 
 struction, that it had not power enough to 
 enable us to hold fast to what is right. I be- 
 gin now to see, that we must have motives 
 that do not depend on the praise or censure of 
 this world, motives that must have nothing 
 to do with it.' 
 
 ' Frank told me the other day,' said 
 Jane, ' that he thought you were growing 
 quite religious.' 
 
 ' If I am,' said uncle Joshua, ' it is from the 
 conviction, that I want higher motives than 
 this world can give. When I lost you, Jane, 
 I was a poor solitary being. The world, you 
 know, i not much to me, and I was still less 
 to that. For a time, you were still my own 
 Jane ; but when your family increased, and, 
 as was very natural, you were occupied by it, 
 then I was thrown quite on myself. And a 
 dreary prospect it was. Then I asked myself, 
 if all was to end here ? Not but what I believed 
 in another world, but it was just as I believed 
 in England or France : but now, Jane, I have 
 thought it over, till I feel that heaven is 
 a land I am going to, and the Bible my 
 9
 
 98 LIVING BEYOND 
 
 chart to steer by ; and 1 am no longer solitary 
 or alone. Now, my dear Jane, I want you to 
 believe it.' 
 
 1 1 do, uncle,' said Jane, affectionately ; ' you 
 always taught me that my mother had gone to 
 heaven, and that if I was good, I should go 
 too.' 
 
 ' Ah, but, my dear child, I want you tofeelii, 
 to feel the comfort and blessing of God's 
 presence. It seems to me, that when we once 
 realize the glory of heaven, we shall nol 
 think much of these earthly palaces. Do not 
 wait till you go to heaven, to realize God's 
 presence, but feel that he is with you always, 
 teach it to your children, win your husband 
 to the truth.' 
 
 'I wish, my dear uncle.' said Jane, and at 
 that moment she spoke sincerely, ' I wish you 
 would come and live with us ; we have now 
 room enough. Frank and I would do every 
 thing in our power, to make you happy. Then 
 I could see you every day, and often ; say, 
 dear uncle, will you come ? 
 
 The old man's eyes overflowed. 
 
 ' Blessings on you, my dear child,' said he.
 
 THEMEANS. 99 
 
 ' No, Jane ; you forget, how short my time 
 is, at the longest. What is left, is little enough 
 to prepare for eternity. I must put it all to its 
 best purposes ; so that when my Master calls, 
 I may render such an account, as may give me 
 permission to enter, not such a hall as this, 
 but one far more glorious than can be wrought 
 by human hands. But w? must not let our 
 talk of another world wholly banish our 
 thoughts of this. I have made a great exer- 
 tion to come and see you this morning. I 
 found it difficult to get here, owing to my 
 shortness of breath, which I think grows upon 
 me. Therefore, I shall not come again soon ; 
 and I must finish what I have to say. All 
 seems prosperous now. But P am afraid 
 Frank is living beyond his means.' 
 
 ' O, no, uncle, he has been very successful 
 in some speculations that he has made. I as- 
 sure you, we can afford all this; and a great 
 deal more.' 
 
 1 I am glad that he has paid for the house.' 
 said uncle Joshua. 
 
 Jane was silent. 
 
 ' You told me he had.'
 
 100 LIVING BEYOND 
 
 ' O, yes,' said she, making an effort to 
 speak. 
 
 ; Well, I must begone.' 
 
 '- Uncle,' said Jane, ' do ride home, it is such 
 a long walk. I expect a carriage at one.' 
 
 He hesitated. Alas, for poor human nature ! 
 Jane had promised to call Mrs. Bradish nt that 
 hour to make vic'ts ; it wanted only a few- 
 minutes of it. The inconvenience of sending, 
 or taking him home, occurred to her mind, and 
 she added, { but I know you had rather walk, 
 so I will not urge the matter.' 
 
 If uncle Joshua saw the wavering of her 
 mind, he did not appear to notice it ; but. af- 
 fectionately embracing her, desired his kind 
 love to Frank and the children, and departed 
 Soon after he left the house, the carriage which 
 Jane had ordered, came to the door : and 
 almost immediately a message from Mrs. Brad- 
 ish, saying, 'she had a bad headache, and 
 must give up her visits.' 
 
 ' What a pity,' said Jane, ' I did not per- 
 suade uncle Joshua to ride home ! but he was 
 in such a hurry ! Well, I am glad I asked 
 him, it certainly was not my fault that he 
 did not ride.'
 
 THE MEANS. 101 
 
 The carriage was ordered away, for Mrs. 
 Bradish's company was indispensable. And a 
 few moments of reflection forced themselves 
 on her mind, ' Did I do right,' was the first 
 thought, ' in saying Frank had paid for the 
 house ? ' 
 
 Turn it which way she could, it sounded to 
 her like a falsehood. She was sure uncle 
 Joshua would think it so. She thought over 
 his conversation, his long kindness to her, of 
 her mother's death, and at last of her own. 
 This is a subject that seldoms fails to call forth 
 tears from the unthinking, if it chance to occur. 
 Jane had already imagined her funeral bier, 
 her weeping children and agonized husband, 
 the world in sadness, and very soon she was 
 deluged with tears. 
 
 ' What is the matter now, Jane,' said Frank, 
 as he suddenly entered. 
 
 Jane could not tell him she was mourning 
 over her own obsequies. 
 
 ' Nothing,' said she, ' only uncle Joshua has 
 been here.' 
 
 ' And has been giving you another lecture, 
 I suppose ! '
 
 102 LIVING BEYOND 
 
 1 He asked me if you had paid for the 
 house. ' 
 
 e What did you tell him ? ' 
 
 ' I told him you had ; but I am afraid I did 
 wrong.' 
 
 ' O no, it is mine ; I have a deed of it.' 
 
 1 But after all, you have only hired the 
 money.' 
 
 < Very well, I shall pay lawful interest for 
 that money.' 
 
 ' I do n't understand,' said Jane, ' how the 
 house is paid for.' 
 
 ' No, women neVer understand these things, 
 and, therefore, they should not talk about 
 them.' 
 
 ' And yet, ' said Jane, ' that is the only way 
 to understand them. It would set my heart 
 at ease, if you would explain to my satisfac- 
 tion, how you have paid for the house.' 
 
 ' Upon my word, your moral tact is so very 
 exquisite, that I cannot comprehend it. Most 
 wives are satisfied with their husband's word, 
 but you require demonstration.' 
 
 Jane strove to look satisfied, but she felt that 
 a kind word from Frank would have comfort- 
 ed her more than his answers.
 
 THE MEANS. 103 
 
 * Uncle Joshua is growing quite a fanatic, 
 I think,' said Frank ; ' 1 suppose he talked to 
 you about religion. For my part, I like every 
 thing in its proper place, religion in the 
 pulpit.' 
 
 ' Is it never to come out ? ' said Jane, in- 
 quiringly. 
 
 4 Not if it makes us unhappy. I carne to 
 tell you that I shall dine out to-day.' 
 
 ' How sorry I am, I did not know it before ; 
 I would have , persuaded my uncle to stay and 
 dine.' 
 
 ' How sorry I am,' said Frank, imitating hei 
 tone, ' that you did not take this opportunity.' 
 
 Uncle Joshua appeared so feeble and short 
 breathed, that Jane was not satisfied with her 
 feelings towards him, nor exactly with her 
 conduct, and therefore her conscience smote 
 her. 
 
 ' 'As it has turned out,' said she, ' I might 
 have sent him home in the carriage, or per- 
 suaded him to stay and dine, and he would have 
 recovered from his fatigue. I did, however, as 
 I thought was best, and that is all we can do. 
 We can only do as seems to us right for t.l it- 
 present.'
 
 104 LIVING BEYOND 
 
 How many deceive themselves with this 
 opiate. The indolent, the selfish, and the 
 worldly, lay this flattering unction to their con- 
 sciences, as if doing what seems to us right 
 for the present did not require reflection, 
 judgment, and often all the self-denying, as 
 well as energetic qualities of our nature. 
 
 ' I hope,' said Frank, ' you did not tell him 
 1 was going to relinquish my profession, and 
 enter into the mercantile line ? ' 
 
 ' No,' said Jane, ' I did not know that you 
 seriously thought of it.' 
 
 ' If you had, I suppose, you would have told 
 him.' 
 
 ' I do n't think I should ; but I really wish 
 you would consult him.' 
 
 A scornful laugh from Frank, brought the 
 color into Jane's cheeks. 
 
 ' Consult uncle Joshua ! that is a good one ! ' 
 and he left the room. 
 
 The first thought that rose to Jane's mind 
 was, ' how Frank is altered.' 
 
 That evening, Jane was engaged at a large 
 party. She was still young and handsome, 
 and, surrounded by the gay and frivolous, she
 
 THE MEANS. 105 
 
 danced quadrilles and cotillons, and returned at 
 one, without thinking any more of her own 
 obsequies. 
 
 As they entered the door, on their return 
 one of the women met them, and told Frank 
 there had been a message -from uncle Joshua, 
 requesting him to come immediately to see 
 him, as he was very sick. 
 
 Jane was alarmed. ' His walk was too 
 much for him, I am afraid,' she exclaimed. 
 
 Frank looked at his watch. ' Half past 
 one ! Do you think I had better go ? ' 
 
 ' O. certainly. I will go with you.' 
 
 ' Nonsense ! With that dress ! ' 
 
 Jane was resolute, and Frank ceased to 
 oppose her. They drove through the unfash- 
 ionable parts of the town, stopped at uncle 
 Joshua's little green door, and knocked softly. 
 A strange woman came to the door. 
 
 ' How is my uncle ? ' said Jane. 
 
 ' He is dead,' said the woman, in an indif- 
 ferent tone. 
 
 They rushed in. It was true. The old 
 man lay motionless, his features retaining the 
 first benign expression of death. With what
 
 106 LIVING BEYOND 
 
 agony did Jane lean over him, and press with 
 her parched lips his cold forehead ! 
 
 ' My more than uncle, my father ! ' she 
 exclaimed, while torrents of tears fell from her 
 eyes. Then recollecting the scene of the day 
 before, she felt as if she was his murderer. 
 ' Tell me,' said she, ' how it all happened. 
 Did he live to get home ? Tell me the worst, 
 while I have power to hear it. My poor, dear 
 uncle ! But yesterday, I could have folded 
 my arms around you, and you would have 
 smiled upon me and loved me ; but I was 
 ungrateful and cold-hearted, and I let you go. 
 O ! that I could buy back those precious mo- 
 ments ! that yesterday would again return ! ' 
 
 Frank strove to soothe her grief. But she 
 constantly recurred to his long walk, which a 
 word of hers' might have prevented. 
 
 They found, upon inquiry, that his death 
 was without warning. He had returned home, 
 and passed the afternoon as usual. In the 
 evening, at about nine, he complained of a pain 
 at his heart, and desired Dr. Fulton might be 
 sent for. Before the message could have 
 reached him, his breath had departed.
 
 THE MEANS. 107 
 
 ' You see, Jane,' said Frank, ' that if I had 
 been at home, it would have been too late.' 
 
 ' It is I, it is I, that am the cause of his 
 death ! ' exclaimed Jane. ' O, that I could 
 recall yesterday ! ' 
 
 The suddenness of the death induced those 
 around to think proper that an examination 
 should be made. It was found that the dis- 
 ease was the angina pectoris. 
 
 ' So you see, Jane,' said Frank, who really 
 wished to console her, ' that his death was 
 inevitable ; and you may set your conscience 
 at rest.' 
 
 But what reasoning can stifle self-reproach ? 
 Jane would have given worlds, to have recall- 
 ed the last few years of worldly engrossment 
 and alienation towards her uncle. But now it 
 was all too late. He was alike insensible to 
 her indifference or her affection. 
 
 That sorrow which is excited merely by cir- 
 cumstances, soon passes away. There is a 
 deep and holy grief, that raises and sublimates 
 the character, after its bitterness is gone. It is 
 health and strength to the minr\ It were to 
 be wished, that Jane's had been nf this nature ; 
 but it was made up of sensation.
 
 108 LIVING BEYOND 
 
 Wben uncle Joshua's wJl was opened, n 
 was fouuii tiiat me little property ne left wa p 
 secured to Jane's children, with this clause : 
 ' At present, it does not appear that my belov- 
 ed niece wants any part of it. But if, by any 
 change of circumstances, and life is full ol 
 change, she should require assistance, she i.< 
 to receive the annual income of the whole 
 quarterly, during her life.' He had appointed 
 as executor and guardian of his will, Samuel 
 Watson, a respectable mechanic in his own 
 walk of life. 
 
 ' After all,' said Frank, with an ironical air, 
 ' I do n't see, Jane, but you turn out an 
 heiress.' 
 
 ' My dear uncle,' returned she, in a faltering 
 voice, ' has left us all he had. I am unworthy 
 of his kindness.' 
 
 ' For heaven's sake, Jane, do n't keep for- 
 ever harping upon that string. What could 
 you have done more ? You say you asked 
 him to come and live with us.' 
 
 ' Yes ; but now I feel how much more daily 
 and constant attention would have been to 
 him, than any such displays that I occasionally
 
 THE MEANS. 109 
 
 made. I earnestly hope he did not perceive 
 my neglect.' 
 
 There are no lessons of kindness and good 
 will that come so home to the heart, as those 
 which are enforced by sudden death. Who 
 lias ever lost a beloved friend, that would not 
 give worlds for one hour of the intercourse for 
 ever gone ? one hour to pour forth the swell- 
 ing affection of the heart, to make atonement 
 for errors and mistakes, to solicit forgiveness, 
 to become perfect in self-sacrifice and disin- 
 terested devotion? This is one of the wise 
 and evident uses of sudden death, that we 
 may so live with our friends, that come when 
 and how it will, we may not add to the griev- 
 ous loss, the self-reproach of unkindness or 
 neglected duties. 
 
 Jane's heart was bleeding under a feeling of 
 
 O O 
 
 remorse. It wanted soothing and kindness ; 
 but Frank seemed vexed and out of humor. 
 
 'There could not,' said he, ' be any thing 
 more consistent with uncle Joshua's narrow 
 views, than his last will and testament. To 
 make such a man as Samuel Watson his ex- 
 ecutor, and trustee for my children ! '
 
 110 LIVING BEYOND 
 
 ' He was his particular friend ; and I have 
 often heard my uncle say, he was "honesty 
 and uprightness to the back bone," ' replied 
 Jane. 
 
 ' Yes ; I know that was a chosen expression 
 of the old gentleman's. However, thank for- 
 tune ! I need have no association with him. 
 If he had left the property to my care, who 
 am the natural guardian of my children, I 
 could have made something handsome of it 
 by the time they wanted it ; but he has so com- 
 pletely tied it up^ that it will never get much 
 beyond the paltry sum it is now.' 
 
 Samuel Watson, the guardian and executor, 
 was a man much resembling uncle Joshua, in 
 the honest good sense of his character ; but he 
 was a husband and a father. His sympathies 
 had been called forth by these strong ties, and 
 by the faithful affection of an excellent wife. 
 They had lived to bury all their children but 
 one ; and that one seemed to exist only as a 
 link between this world and another. He had 
 been, from infancy, an invalid. They had 
 hung over him, with prayers and anguish, 
 through many a year of sickness, spending
 
 THE MEANS. Ill 
 
 upon him a watchfulness and anxiety that the 
 other two children did not seem to demand ; 
 for they were strong in health and activity. 
 His two brothers, braced together like horses, 
 delighted to draw the little invalid, in his 
 wicker-carriage, over the hills and valleys of 
 Dorchester, where they then resided. A 
 greater contrast could hardly have existed 
 between the horses and the rider. They, full 
 of health, bloom and animal spirits, only check- 
 ed by the feeble voice of Oliver, begging them 
 not to go quite so fast \ and when they slipped 
 from the slight harness, and flew to his side, 
 the contrast of his pale face and laboring 
 breath, to their free and joyous respiration, 
 was indeed a sad one. But years had passed 
 away, and Oliver had lived to weep over the 
 loss of his brothers, had lived to enforce tne 
 immutable truth, that God's ways are not like 
 ours, to prove the imbecility of human de- 
 ductions and conjecture. The blooming and 
 beautiful had been called, in the dawn of life, 
 and the invalid still lingered on. But that 
 health, which had been denied to his material 
 structure, seemed doubly bestowed on his
 
 112 LIVING BEYOND 
 
 mind. He was no longer the feeble object of 
 his mother's solicitude. He was her friend, 
 her counsellor. By degrees, he obtained the 
 influence of superior virtue over every one 
 around him, and, from his couch of sickness 
 and pain, afforded a striking proof, that there 
 is no situation in life, which may not show 
 forth the goodness and power of the Creator. 
 Such he considered the purpose of his pro- 
 longed existence, not to teach by active and 
 energetic usefulness, for, alas ! that was denied 
 to him ; but by enduring with fortitude and 
 submission, suffering and confinement ; to en- 
 deavor by faith, prayer and trust in God, to 
 demonstrate, that religion gives a power suf- 
 ficient to support and cheer the soul, and to 
 diffuse serenity in hopeless disease. 
 
 The expression of his countenance was 
 bright, ^erene, and even, at times, joyous. It was 
 only his emaciated frame, the clear and un- 
 earthly paleness of his complexion, that gave 
 the idea of suffering. The parents, instead of 
 communicating resignation, derived it from him ; 
 and though his cultivation and refinement were 
 of a higher order than theirs, they felt its
 
 THE MEANS. 113 
 
 secret and holy influence. Such were the 
 friends that uncle Joshua meant to secure to 
 Jane and her children. 
 
 Mrs. Watson expressed her determination to 
 call on Jane, as soon as it was proper, for, 
 she was of the old sc/iool (one that often 
 checks the best propensities of the heart) ; 
 which it would not be under a month or six 
 weeks. Oliver thought otherwise, ' Why not 
 go to-day, or to-morrow ? as if every one does 
 not feel the blessing of heartfelt sympathy.' 
 But Mrs. Watson knew more of the forms of 
 life, and weighed their different standing, and 
 several weeks were suffered to pass. By this 
 delay, she lost the opportunity of seeing Jane 
 under the influence of a sorrow, which, for a 
 time, at least, makes the heart better. But 
 Frank had requested all their friends to come 
 and cheer her up. And the trio, Mrs. Reed, 
 Mrs. Hart and "Mrs. B radish, that we have 
 before alluded to, had certainly done their best, 
 to wear away all the salutary and wholesome 
 impressions of death. They had scarcely 
 allowed her a moment for reflection, had 
 urged the necessity of riding, walking, and 
 10
 
 114 LITING BEYOND 
 
 ' keeping up her spirits,' till Jane had he- 
 come again absorbed -by the little petty cares 
 of life, and could banish painful reflection 
 without an effort. 
 
 The morning that Mr. and Mrs. Watson 
 came, they found her in a becoming mourning 
 dress, every curl and every fold in place. 
 But their own feelings of kindness supplied 
 the want of hers, and aroused something like 
 sympathy in her mind. ' We must be friends.' 
 said Mr. Watson, as he shook her hand with 
 cordiality, ' or we shall not fulfil the last re- 
 quest of our excellent friend. You must fix 
 on an afternoon to pass with us, and bring all 
 your children.' Jane could not refuse, and the 
 day was appointed ; and as Mi's. Watson left 
 the room, she said, ' don't make it later than 
 four.' 
 
 ' Impossible,' said Frank, ' go at four ! What 
 Goths and Vandals ! You will expire before 
 you can get away. I will call and pass half 
 an hour after tea, and I hope this will finish 
 off the intercourse for a year at least. By the 
 by, Jane, put down the day of the month, and 
 next year we will return the invitation the same 
 day.'
 
 THE MEANS. 115 
 
 When the afternoon arrived, a new obstacle 
 presented. Elinor, the eldest daughter, who 
 had attained her sixteenth year, and was to 
 come out the next winter, had her engagements 
 and pursuits, and learnt, with a feeling of dis- 
 appointment, that a long afternoon was to be 
 spent, in a scene of domestic dullness and 
 ennui. The sacrifice, however,' was to be 
 made ; and, with a naturally amiable dispo- 
 sition, and much energy of character, she de- 
 termined it should be made cheerfully ; with a 
 secret hope, however, that they should not see 
 the sick young man. 
 
 The sick young man was the first to re 
 ceive them, to welcome them, with a gay 
 and cheerful expression, to his father's house. 
 Mrs. Watson lost, at home, all the constraint 
 of fonns, to which she was unused. She was 
 kind, maternal and affectionate. The table 
 was loaded with prints, and works of fancy 
 and taste. Every thing was refined, and in 
 good keeping ; and, to the astonishment of 
 the Fultons, Oliver, in fashionable phrase, was 
 * the life of the party.' Instead of allusions 
 to his feeble health, and a list of his infirmities,
 
 116 LIVING BEYOND 
 
 which the visiters had anticipated, not a word 
 was hinted on the subject. A new treat was 
 prepared for the evening, his electrical ma- 
 chine, with its curious experiments, his mag- 
 ic lantern, with its grave and gay scenes, its 
 passing characters, so true a picture of human 
 life. When the carnage came, to convey El- 
 inor to the cotillon party, strange as it may 
 seem, she preferred staying the evening, and 
 the carriage was dismissed. 
 
 Dr. Fulton did not come. Business un- 
 doubtedly prevented him. A physician's time 
 \va? never his own ; and ' heartily glad y Jane 
 said she should be, when he gave up his pro- 
 fession. 
 
 The family returned, delighted with their 
 visit, and perfectly convinced, that, though 
 Oliver looked sick and emaciated, and his 
 hands were so white and almost transparent 
 he coidd not suffer much. Mrs. Fulton 
 said ' suffering was not only marked upon the 
 countenance, but it destroyed the force and 
 resolution of the character.' In most cases, 
 she was undoubtedly right ; but in the present 
 one she was wrong. Many a night of anguish
 
 THE MEANS. 117 
 
 did poor Oliver endure, earnestly praying, 
 if it were the will of Heaven, that he might 
 sleep the sleep of death, and wake to the 
 morning of a glorious immortality. But then, 
 the remembrance of his parents' anguish came 
 over him, and he prayed for prolonged life, 
 for their sakes, and bade them good morning, 
 with a cheerful smile. 
 
 Sickness and suffering had nerved, not de- 
 stroyed, the energy of his character ; and he 
 had learnt to look upon his frame as a machine, 
 which the mind was to control. 
 
 There are mysterious sympathies in the 
 heart. From this visit, Elinor's impressions 
 assumed a new form. A beauty she already 
 was. and a belle likely to be ; but, hence- 
 forth, all that belonged to these titles devolved 
 on the care of the parents. It was Elinor's 
 delight to visit at Mrs. Watson's, to listen to 
 the conversation of Oliver, so blended with 
 wisdom, instruction and amusement. Of a fu- 
 ture existence, which she had hitherto con- 
 sidered as awfully mysterious, and always ban- 
 ished from her thoughts, she heard him speak, 
 as one of joyful anticipation ; as separated
 
 118 LIVING BEYOND 
 
 from this only by a slight barrier. Her visits 
 became frequent; and notwithstanding her 
 parents wondered at her plebeian taste, she 
 passed days at Mrs. Watson's. She soon un- 
 derstood Oliver's character, saw, that while 
 his frame was often torn by anguish, the mind 
 triumphed. It was a glorious lesson for youth ; 
 one well calculated to do away the blighting 
 effects of a life of vanity. Uncle Joshua had 
 bequeathed to Elinor an education ; not one 
 that was to fit her for entering the gay world, 
 but one that was gradually to prepare her for 
 the kingdom of heaven. 
 
 At length, the long talked of period arrived, 
 that both Mr. and Mrs. Fulton had anticipated. 
 He relinquished his profession, and entered into 
 partnership with Mr. Bradish, as a merchant. 
 They could no longer be considered as on the 
 threshold of fashion. They had entered the 
 precincts, and were proceeding at a rapid pace. 
 They first began, by accepting such invitations 
 as they persuaded themselves they were mor- 
 ally obliged to accept : as if the often repeat- 
 ed observation, ' I feel obliged to go,' operated 
 beyond inclination.
 
 THE MEANS . 119 
 
 Some there are, veterans of fashion, who, 
 like Solomon, weary of the constant round of 
 life, persuade themselves that they are bound 
 to accept invitations, from respect, to the feel- 
 ings of their friends, who will be hurt if they 
 decline them. How can they think- so, when 
 they arrive at the drawing-room, where every 
 inch of foot room is contended for, and where, 
 if shorter than the average of the company, 
 they must content themselves with gazing upon 
 the ceiling ! To those who are just enlisting, 
 there is, undoubtedly, a mysterious power in 
 fashion, that enables them to make many sac- 
 rifices for the honor of being called over in the 
 muster-roll. 
 
 The frame of the chimney-glass was stuck 
 full of cards, white, blue and yellow, and every 
 evening saw Mr. and Mrs. Fulton elbowing 
 their way, among crowded circles. That all 
 this was still done with the greatest possible 
 economy of money, there can be no doubt; 
 for Jane had not yet learned to throw off all 
 the restraints of early habit. But if money is 
 saved, a far more precious expenditure is re- 
 quired. A lady who spends her morning in 

 
 120 LIVING BEYOND 
 
 cleaning white kid gloves and furbishing a soil- 
 ed dress, is drawing upon a treasure that money 
 cannot replace, time. 
 
 While Elinor was deriving lessons from 
 Oliver, that were to endure beyond ' time,'' to 
 her mother was left the care of preparing for 
 her entree the coming year. No member of" 
 parliament, canvassing for a place as prime 
 minister, could have been keener in his calcu 
 lations. Many old acquaintance? were drop- 
 ped, and many new ones acquired. Every 
 article of furniture that was purchased, had 
 some reference to the future show-out, to the 
 ball with which Elinor was to be ushered into 
 society. To give it full effect, she was care- 
 fully secluded ; and, like the night-blooming 
 ccreus, was to burst forth at once. Mrs. Wat- 
 son's was die-only place where she was suffer- 
 ed to visit freely ; and ' they were so out of 
 the world, that nobody would ever see her, or 
 know it.' 
 
 It was strange, how Oliver contrived to 
 mingle so much of religion, of high and holy 
 thought, in his intercourse with all about him, 
 without ever preaching, or even uttering a
 
 THE MEANS. 121 
 
 homily. This reflection occurred to Elinor; 
 and she conned it over, till she found out the 
 puzzle. It was the language of action, of ex- 
 ample, of purpose, fortitude in sufFering,- 
 filial tenderness, disinterested benevolence, 
 and ingenuity in devising aid for the unfortu- 
 nate. His words were consistent with all this ; 
 but they possessed no higher moral power than 
 they derived from living example. 
 
 ' How good you are ! ' said Elinor to him, 
 when he was one day kindly explaining to her 
 some phenomena of scientific experiments. 
 
 ' I suppose,' said he, ' I ought to say, in 
 return, how good you are, to listen to me so 
 patiently ! But I feel as if I had almost done 
 with the forms of the world.' 
 
 ' Almost done with them ! ' exclaimed Eli- 
 nor. ' Why, Oliver, you have not entered 
 upon them yet, you are so young! My 
 mother thinks you would have enjoyed better 
 health, if you had been more in society, and 
 had not thought and studied so much.' 
 
 ' Do you think so, Elinor ? ' 
 
 ' I really cannot tell,' replied she, after a 
 moment's pause, ' because the experiment has 
 11
 
 122 LIVING BEYOND 
 
 never been made. But no one cojld wish 
 you to be otherwise than you are, except with 
 regard to health.' 
 
 ' What I am, all that you approve,' said 
 Oliver, c I owe to my ill health. It is Provi- 
 dence that gives us the means of improvement.' 
 
 'Providence, then,' replied Elinor, with a 
 half smile, ' has dealt hardly by me ; for 1 
 have always enjoyed excellent health.' 
 
 ' No, Elinor ; Providence has dealt most 
 graciously with you. God is leading your 
 young heart to him by mercies and blessings. 
 And who shall say that the contrast which 
 my situation affords to yours, is not one of the 
 means designed to warm your gratitude into a 
 pure and holy flame of devotion ? ' 
 
 From conversations and reflections like these, 
 Elinor returned, in the evening, to her own 
 now luxurious home. She usually found her 
 mother dressing for a party. There was often 
 hurry and vexation. Sometimes a glove tore 
 in pulling it on, or the carriage did not come. 
 When her mother was leaving her, she often 
 said, ' Next winter, Elinor, we shall go togeth- 
 er. I leave you to the pleasure of anticipa-
 
 THE MEANS. 123 
 
 tion.' And then she hurried away to a 
 crowded party. 
 
 Mrs. Fulton, thanks to her beauty, reputed 
 wealth, and circle of acquaintances, had now 
 the happiness of seeing herself one of the first 
 led into the supper-room ; and, from the upper 
 end of it, enjoyed the felicity of gazing upon 
 the crowd, who were elbowing their way. 
 Sometimes her eye rested on one of her early 
 ' lady patronesses,' Mrs. Reed, and some others, 
 who pushed on before the thronging multitude. 
 She gave them an encouraging nod, and even 
 beckoned them to get near her ; a feat that 
 she knew was utterly impossible. 
 
 One thing still was wanting, to place them 
 on an equality with the Bradishes ; and that 
 was a carriage. Poor Mrs. Fulton still made 
 her morning visits in a hack, except when her 
 kind neighbor condescendingly offered to take 
 her. She could see no reason' why they should 
 not now have an equipage of their own. It 
 was only consistent with their present style of 
 living. 
 
 Frank had wholly ceased his communica- 
 tions to Jane, with regard to his pecuniary
 
 124 LIVING BEYOND 
 
 affairs. Consequently, this mutual source of 
 interest was gone ; and, as she saw no re- 
 straints laid on any thing, she presumed, very 
 naturally, that, as long as his business was so 
 flourishing, it was of little consequence what 
 they expended. Sometimes, when her benev- 
 olent feelings were interested, end she gave 
 lavishly and injudiciously, Frank accused her 
 of extravagance. Then came retaliation, and 
 hints that she had always heard, that, with 
 increase of means, came a greater tenacity of 
 money. For her own part, she considered it 
 as dross, if it was not circulating- 
 
 It is a sad mistake, to believe that there are 
 any abstract virtues or vices. The former is 
 the ascending ladder of Jacob's vision, whose 
 foot is on earth, but whose top reaches to 
 heaven. To suppose that we may commit a 
 solitary vice, is as inconsistent as it would be 
 to break down a very small portion of the 
 levee, and yet expect to restrain the rushing 
 waters of the Mississippi to a narrow outlet 
 and gentle current. The mighty torrent, that 
 has hitherto been hemmed in. can no longer
 
 THE MEANS. 135 
 
 be checked ; and the country is laid waste by 
 inundation. 
 
 Extravagance seems to be a slight fault. 
 In youth, we are indulgent to it. We say, if 
 there must be wrong, that extreme is better 
 than the opposite ; we had rather see it, than 
 sordid calculation. But is this all ? Does it 
 stop here ? A little reflection will convince 
 any one, that, to support extravagance, it must 
 bring a host of allies. There must be injustice, 
 selfishness ; and the last auxiliary is fraud. 
 Extravagance is, in truth, living beyond our 
 honest means. It is a word used so lightly, 
 that we almost forget its import. 
 
 During the months that followed uncle 
 Joshua's death, to the era of Elinor's coming 
 out, nothing could be less preparatory for such 
 an event, than her state of mind. But, as she 
 was perfectly obedient to her mother's wishes, 
 careful not to use too violent exercise, or to 
 expose herself, imprudently, to heat or cold, 
 and not to associate with her former school- 
 mates, who did not belong to the haut-ton, 
 
 * A O * 
 
 Mrs. Fulton was satisfied, and fully believed 
 that he- daughter comprehended and subscrib-
 
 126 LIVING BEYOND 
 
 ed to her motives ; that she understood the 
 first part of her lessons were given, as a cos- 
 metic for the complexion, and the last, as a 
 security for rank. Elinor obeyed them, with 
 the full assurance, that they were meant for 
 her good. For what child can doubt the 
 affection of a mother ? It is a redeeming 
 point in this connection, formed by God's own 
 hand, that however blind or ill-judged in its 
 direction, and however bitter the waters may 
 become in their course, the fount, from which 
 they rise, is pure and uncorrupted. Let us 
 not confound terms, and talk of the affection 
 of parents, as we talk of their foolish indul- 
 gence, their inordinate pride in their children, 
 and their restless ambition. These are world- 
 lings, and have no affinity with true parental 
 affection. If w r e analyze them, selfishness is 
 at the bottom. As well might we say that 
 religion is fanaticism, is persecution, is un- 
 hallowed zeal, because the rivers, that flow 
 from the source, sometimes grow muddy and 
 turbid as they rush on. Yet, even the infidel 
 pretends not to relinquish his claims to the
 
 THE MEANS. 127 
 
 fountain ; for lie tells us, his is the religion of 
 nature. 
 
 'My dear Elinor/ said Mrs. Fulton, as 
 they both set at work in the morning, c your 
 father and I have fixed upon the first evening 
 in November for the ball. It is now the sec- 
 ond week in October ; and we shall not have 
 much more than time to get ready. We must 
 make out a list. Take your pen, and we will 
 begin.' 
 
 Elinor did as her mother directed. 
 
 ' The right way,' said Mrs. Fulton, ' is to 
 arrange the names alphabetically.' 
 
 It was soon found, however, that this was 
 impossible. A string of Ps or Qs, &z,c., ob- 
 truded. Then Mrs. P ulton said, ' Streets 
 were the -best way to begin with. R Street ; 
 then go to C or E Street, and so on.' -I3ut 
 here numbers were forgotten. And, at last, 
 she thought of - the directory. 
 
 Elinor continued writing the list in silence, 
 with her head bent over the paper. 
 
 ' The next thing will be to fix upon waiters 
 and entertainments. We are to have the use 
 of Mrs. Bradish's two rooms, just as she had
 
 128 LIVING BEYOND 
 
 ours, last winter. But how moping you are, 
 Elinor ! I really think, as we are taking all 
 this trouble for you, you might show a little 
 interest in it.' 
 
 Elinor attempted to answer ; but her emo- 
 tions seemed to be irrepressible ; and she laid 
 down her pen, and put her handkerchief to 
 her eyes-t 
 
 ' You are not well, dear,' said her mother, 
 tenderly. 
 
 ' Yes, I am,' said Elinor. ' But, mother, 
 do you know how sick Oliver is ? ' 
 
 ' I know he has been sick for a great many 
 years ; I believe, ever since he was born.' 
 
 ' But he is much more so now. The doc- 
 tor says he cannot live long.' 
 
 ' It will be a mercy, when he is taken,' said 
 Mrs. Fulton. 
 
 ' He is every thing to his mother,' said Eli 
 nor, in a faltering voice. 
 
 ' Yes ; his father and mother will feel it at 
 first, no doubt. Have you put down the Wil- 
 kinses on the list ? ' 
 
 f Mother,' said Elinor, solemnly, ' perhap?
 
 THE MEANS. 129 
 
 Ohver may die the very evening you have 
 fixed on for the ball.' 
 
 ' Well, if he should, it would be unlucky 
 But we cannot help it, you know.' 
 
 ' They were such friends of uncle Joshua's ! ' 
 said Elinor. 
 
 ' They are so out of tlie world, they will 
 never know it.' 
 
 ' But we should, mother.' 
 
 ' There is nothing so unwise as to torment 
 ourselves about possibilities. I am sure, things 
 could not happen so unlucky.' 
 
 Jane was right in one point, at least. There 
 is nothing so unwise as to trouble ourselves 
 about possibilities. We may lay a thousand 
 plans, waste time in revolving consequent 
 events, even go on to imaginary conversations, 
 and, after all, the occasion for them never 
 occurs, and our plans are swept away, like 
 chaff before the wind. 
 
 Elinor made out the list. The cards were 
 written and sent ; and the day before the ball 
 arrived. 
 
 The young, and those who remember the 
 days of their youth, will not be severe on Eli-
 
 130 LIVING BEYOND 
 
 nor, that her thoughts took a brighter hue, as 
 she busied herself in the splendid preparations ; 
 or that, when her ball-dress came home, her 
 eye sparkled with pleasure, as she gazed on it. 
 Winters of sorrow and time must pass over the 
 young head, before its germs of anticipation, 
 of hope, and of self-complacency, can be 
 blighted. 
 
 ' It is a beautiful dress,' said Mrs. Ful- 
 ton. ' I will just run down and see if your 
 father has come. He was to bring your car- 
 rings.' 
 
 Down Mrs. Fulton ran. 
 
 As she approached his room, which was on 
 the basement story, she heard loud voices. 
 She stopped at the door; and, at that mo- 
 ment, her husband said, in a deprecating 
 voice, ' I assure, you, this is only a trifling 
 embarrassment. Wait a few days, and every 
 thing will go right.' 
 
 ' I know better,' was the ungracious reply ; 
 ' and I will wait no longer.' 
 
 Jane turned away, with a feeling of appre- 
 hension. Sometliing of undefined evil took 
 possession of her mind; and, instead of re-
 
 THE MEANS. J 3 1 
 
 turning to Elinor, she impatiently waited, at 
 the head of the stairs, till the men were gone. 
 When the door closed upon them, she again 
 sought her husband. He was flushed and 
 agitated. 
 
 ' What do you want ? ' said he, roughly, as 
 she entered. 
 
 ' I came to see if you had got Elinor's ear- 
 rings.' 
 
 ' Do n't torment me about such nonsense,' 
 replied he. ' You worry my life out.' 
 
 Jane had caught his retaliating spirit. 
 
 ' Something worries you, it is evident. Who 
 were those men that have just gone ? ' 
 
 ' That is my affair,' said he. 
 
 She was silent for a moment ; and then 
 affectionately exclaimed, ' My dear Frank, 
 how can you say so ? Are not your affairs 
 and mine the same ? If any thing makes you 
 unhaopy, ought I not to know it ? ' 
 
 How tru<e it is, that ' a soft answer turned) 
 away wrath ! ' He evidently felt the forbear- 
 ance of his wife ; aud replied, more gently, 
 ' Indeed, Jane, if I had any thing pleasant to 
 tell you I should be glad to tell it.- But the
 
 132 LIVING BEYOND 
 
 truth is, it is from kindness to you, that 1 do 
 not speak.' 
 
 1 Then there is something unpleasant to be 
 communicated ? ' 
 
 ' Yes ; but wait till this cursed ball is over, 
 and then I will tell you all. Here,' said he, 
 taking a little box from his pocket, 'carry 
 
 these to Elinor, and tell her No ; tell 
 
 her nothing.' 
 
 ' Indeed, Frank, it is cruel in you, to leave 
 me in this state of suspense. Tell me the 
 worst.' 
 
 ' We are ruined ! Now, Jane, go and finish 
 your preparations for the ball. You would 
 know all, and you have got it.' 
 
 What a day was this for poor Jane ! Ear- 
 nestly she entreated that the ball might be 
 given up. But Frank said, if any thing could 
 increase their misery, it would be making it 
 so public. And, after seas of tears, on the 
 part of Jane, it was finally settled that every 
 thing should proceed the same. Yet, with the 
 selfishness of sorrow, hew often she wished 
 that something might take place to prevent the 
 ball ! something that did not bring exposure,
 
 THE MEANS. 133 
 
 that would not affect the health of her own 
 family ! That something was Oliver's death ; 
 the very circumstance that She had, a few 
 days before ; so much dreaded. In the morn- 
 ! ng, she sent to know how he was ; and the 
 answer, while it gave exhilaration to Elinor's 
 spirits, brought disappointment to her mother. 
 ' He had a very comfortable night, and was 
 greatly relieved.' 
 
 Amidst the preparations for the evening, 
 Mrs. Fulton's depression was not observed. 
 The only hope that remained to Frank, was, 
 that his affairs might be arranged with some 
 degree of secrecy. And, for this, the ball, he 
 conceived, was actually necessary. 
 
 When the evening arrived, and Elinor 
 came to show herself, all equipped for her first 
 appearance, any mother might have been 
 proud of such a daughter, with her bright, 
 happy face, her sunny, blue eyes, and a figure 
 set off by her white satin bodice, and splendid 
 necklace and ear-rings, the last present of 
 her father ^ 
 
 ' Does she not look like a queen, ma'am ? '
 
 134 LIVING BEYOND 
 
 said the chamber-maid, following her, and 
 holding the light high above her head. 
 
 Mrs. Fulton cast upon her a look of an- 
 guish. 
 
 The company came. Eveiy body con- 
 gratulated Jane on the beauty and elegance 
 of her daughter. Everv body prophesied she 
 would be the belle of the winter. Then came 
 the supper. And, at last, the visitors depart- 
 ed. Elinor retired to bed, full of happy 
 dreams ; and her parents were left alone. 
 
 Jane attempted to converse with her hus- 
 band. But he had done the honors of the 
 whisky punch and champagne, till he had 
 not a clear idea left. And broken slumbers 
 and sad thoughts followed her through the 
 night. 
 
 The next morning came, with bitter con- 
 sciousness of what was before them. Frank 
 had not the consolation of feeling that misfor- 
 tune had reduced him. He had not lost any 
 large amount, by the sudden changes to which 
 mercantile speculations are subject. He had 
 been living in reckless extravagance, and had
 
 THE MEANS. 135 
 
 withdrawn large sums from the firm, trusting 
 to the future to replace them. With failure, 
 he knew must come disgrace. 
 
 In a few days, the tale went round, and 
 enlivened many an evening circle and mom- 
 ing gossip. The sagacity of the world was 
 truly astonishing. It was incredible, how 
 many ' had expected some such crash. There 
 was nothing so foolish as people's living 
 beyond their means.' And Mrs. Hart was 
 particularly loud in condemning Mrs. Fulton's 
 extravagance. 
 
 Among all their former friends, a few ap- 
 peared to sympathize ; but none to take the 
 responsibility of counselling. Yet such a one 
 Heaven provided for them. And this was 
 Samuel Watson, uncle Joshua's ' vulgar 
 friend.' 
 
 It was necessary that Frank should disap- 
 pear from the scene of action ; and Mr. 
 Watson was indefatigable, in seeing that eveiy 
 thing was transacted in the best possible man- 
 ner, and in shielding Frank's conduct from 
 reproach, as far as was compatible with truth.
 
 136 LIVING BEYOND 
 
 His house was an asylum for Mrs. Fulton and 
 her children, till something more eligible could 
 he thought of. 
 
 Among the early friends of her uncle, 
 Jane's former impressions revived. She re- 
 membered his kind and judicious counsel, and 
 \vondered that she could so far have strayed 
 from it. She spoke with perfect candor to 
 Mr. and Mrs. Watson, and, in return, received 
 counsel and consolation. 
 
 'Often,' said Mrs. Watson, ' your uncle has 
 expressed his fears to us, that you were living 
 too fast. But when he saw you still charita- 
 ble, and striving to do good, he said, " They 
 cannot wander far from the right path." And 
 he was always fearful of alienating your affec- 
 tion'by reproof.' 
 
 ' It is true,' said Jane, ' I could not bear his 
 reproofs. And yet I knew he must and did 
 disapprove. If I had had resolution to meet it 
 all, how much better would it have been for 
 me ! ' 
 
 Mrs. Watson smiled. 
 
 ' We find saving clauses, generally, in such
 
 THE MEANS. 131 
 
 cases. It was natural for you to believe that 
 your uncle had no opportunities of knowing 
 what people required in the fashionable world, 
 to appear respectable.' 
 
 'It is a comfort, however/ said Jane, ' that 
 we have injured nobody but ourselves. 
 
 ' I do n't see how that can be,' said Mrs- 
 Watson. 
 
 ' Our creditors are rich men, who will not 
 feel it in reality. And as to our other debts, 
 they are very trifling.' 
 
 ' I am glad to hear you say you owe only 
 those who will not feel it. Of course, there 
 are no butchers' or bakers' bills unpaid ; no 
 carpenters, masons, or tradesmen of any kind ; 
 no mantua-makers or milliners ;- no women 
 who go out to daily labor, and who have 
 families of children depending upon them for 
 bread.' 
 
 ' Upon my word,' said Jane, ' you are one 
 of Job's comforters. Uncle Joshua himself 
 could hardly be more severe.' 
 
 ' My dear Mrs. Fulton, do n't misunder- 
 stand me. Is it not right, that we should 
 12
 
 138 LIVING BEYOND 
 
 speak the truth to those whom we wish to 
 serve ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly,' said Jane. ' But you must 
 allow that we are the greatest sufferers.' 
 
 ' I can hardly allow that ; inasmuch as I 
 consider moral evil of far greater magnitude 
 than temporal. You have added the weight 
 of your conduct and example to the growing 
 extravagance of the age.' 
 
 ' I can say, with truth, my prevailing mo- 
 tive has been to benefit my children ; to give 
 them such advantages as would introduce 
 them to the first society. 
 
 ' The best 4 gift we can bestow upon our 
 children,' said Mrs. Watson, ' is independence ; 
 and this is in every one's power. "We must 
 teach them to limit themselves to their own 
 resources.' 
 
 ' Suppose they have nothing ? ' 
 
 ' If they have health, activity, and moderate 
 talents, they have an abundance for indepen- 
 dence. What standing can be more respect- 
 able, than that man's, who lives within his 
 own means ; owing no one, wronging no one,
 
 THE MEANS. 139 
 
 and sharing his little with those" who have 
 less ? ' 
 
 ' Alas ! ' said Jane, ' that was once our 
 situation.' 
 
 ' And may be again in a degree,' said Mrs. 
 Watson. ' And this is the point to which I 
 would come.' 
 
 ' No,' replied Jane ; ' I see the difference. 
 We had, then, youth and frugal habits. We 
 were free from debt, and had not a family of 
 children, brought up in indulgence.' 
 
 While Mrs. Watson was endeavoring to 
 rouse the dormant powers of Jane's mind, 
 Mr. Watson was acting as friendly a part by 
 her husband, and a much more difficult 
 one. 
 
 Most people feel but little commiseration 
 for that remorse which first owes its birth to 
 open exposure. The common observation is, 
 that they feel the shame, but not the sin. 
 However true this may be, we must also 
 recollect, that remorse is not made up of pure 
 and noble sentiments. It is a mixture of 
 shame, disappointment, and a conviction of
 
 140 LIVING BEYONI> 
 
 self-folly. We must not confound it with 
 penitence. But we must welcome it, let it 
 spring from what it will, as the first regener- 
 ating power of the mind. 
 
 It was thus that Mr. Watson regarded the 
 state of Frank's mind. And he did not con- 
 vert it to hardened indifference hy bitter sar- 
 casm, nor strive to lighten it, by talking of 
 error, mistake, or misfortune. He gave things 
 their just names. 
 
 Uncle Joshua's legacy was a blessed re 
 source for Mrs. Fulton and her children. His 
 house was a home for them ; and to take 
 possession of it, was retiring as completely 
 from the circle in which she had moved, as if 
 she had followed her husband to the western 
 country, where he went to begin life anew ; 
 and once more put up his sign, ' Dr. Fulton, 
 practises gratis.' 
 
 Elinor was at an age to feel the change, 
 that had taken place, with poignancy. But 
 she was also at an age when the mind opens 
 to new impressions, and when virtuous princi- 
 ples are easily stamped upon it. Her inter-
 
 THE MEANS . 141 
 
 course with the Watson family, had been a 
 real blessing. This was still left to her ; and 
 she soon found, in constant employment and 
 the necessary labor of her own industry, a 
 tranquillity that was new to her. 
 
 Poor Jane ! Her task was the hardest. 
 She had much to unlearn ; habits of self-in- 
 dulgence, feelings of mortification, of pride, 
 and even of envy, to struggle against. 
 
 It seemed as if Oliver's life had been pro- 
 longed, to this time, to complete the religious 
 education of Elinor and her sisters. They, 
 every evening, seated themselves near his sick 
 couch, and listened to his cheerful and ani- 
 mated conversation. Often he talked and 
 reasoned of things to come, and no cloud 
 came over his or their brow. It was a beauti 
 ful sight, to contemplate the earthly spirit 
 gradually ' fading into life.' And when noth 
 ing remained, but the form it once inhabited, 
 they felt that he had gone to his God and his 
 Father. 
 
 Jane is still the head of the family ; but 
 Elinor is its life and soul. What her mother
 
 142 LIVING BEYOND 
 
 was, at her age, she now is ; charitable and 
 self-denying. But the virtues of the one 
 sprang from the lovely and gentle emotions of 
 her nature, which, in beneficence and kind- 
 ness, sought their own relief and gratification. 
 In the other, they are strengthened and sup- 
 ported by the immutable principles of account- 
 ability to God, of faith in a future life, and of 
 love to souk, born to immortality. 
 
 The accounts they receive from Dr. Ful- 
 ton, and of him, are, upon the whole, encour- 
 aging. Though Mrs. Fulton is earnest to join 
 him, with her family, he has been wise enough 
 to decline it. The last letter he wrote Elinor, 
 she received a few days since, and still carries 
 in her bosom, probably on account of the fol- 
 lowing sentence : 
 
 'I begin to hope we may all again be 
 gathered into one family, even in this world. 
 My business is prosperous ; and I have rea- 
 sonable expectations of being able, in the 
 course of a few years, to convince my credit- 
 ore, that, however wide I have travelled from 
 the right course, it is not irrecoverable. I
 
 THE MEANS. 143 
 
 willingly submit to every privation, in this 
 blessed hope. In the mean time, I daily 
 thank God for my domestic relations; that 
 he has preserved to me my wife and chikhen 
 has given me such a child as you havs 
 proved yourself; and taught us all, that real 
 independence consists in living ivithin out 
 means.'
 
 
 This book is DUE on the last 
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 RECT) 
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 10m-ll, '50(2555)470 
 
 1973
 
 UCLA-Young Research Library 
 
 PS2236 .L511t 1838 
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