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Page 21
"_Seine_"--interrupted the Doctor, giving the French
pronunciation.--"Always get a new word right in the first place,
my friend, and you will never get it wrong afterwards."
"Well, I was crossing the bridge there, and who should hail me, but
a suspicious-looking man, who, under pretence of seeking to polish my
boots, wanted slyly to unscrew their heels, and so steal all these
precious papers I've brought you."
"My good friend," said the man of gravity, glancing scrutinizingly upon
his guest, "have you not in your time, undergone what they call hard
times? Been set upon, and persecuted, and very illy entreated by some of
your fellow-creatures?"
"That I have, Doctor; yes, indeed."
"I thought so. Sad usage has made you sadly suspicious, my honest
friend. An indiscriminate distrust of human nature is the worst
consequence of a miserable condition, whether brought about by innocence
or guilt. And though want of suspicion more than want of sense,
sometimes leads a man into harm, yet too much suspicion is as bad as too
little sense. The man you met, my friend, most probably had no artful
intention; he knew just nothing about you or your heels; he simply
wanted to earn two sous by brushing your boots. Those blacking-men
regularly station themselves on the bridge."
"How sorry I am then that I knocked over his box, and then ran away.
But he didn't catch me."
"How? surely, my honest friend, you--appointed to the conveyance of
important secret dispatches--did not act so imprudently as to kick over
an innocent man's box in the public streets of the capital, to which you
had been especially sent?"
"Yes, I did, Doctor."
"Never act so unwisely again. If the police had got hold of you, think
of what might have ensued."
"Well, it was not very wise of me, that's a fact, Doctor. But, you see,
I thought he meant mischief."
"And because you only thought he _meant_ mischief, _you_ must
straightway proceed to _do_ mischief. That's poor logic. But think over
what I have told you now, while I look over these papers."
In half an hour's time, the Doctor, laying down the documents, again
turned towards Israel, and removing his spectacles very placidly,
proceeded in the kindest and most familiar manner to read him a paternal
detailed lesson upon the ill-advised act he had been guilty of, upon the
Pont Neuf; concluding by taking out his purse, and putting three small
silver coins into Israel's hands, charging him to seek out the man that
very day, and make both apology and restitution for his unlucky mistake.
"All of us, my honest friend," continued the Doctor, "are subject to
making mistakes; so that the chief art of life, is to learn how best to
remedy mistakes. Now one remedy for mistakes is honesty. So pay the man
for the damage done to his box. And now, who are you, my friend? My
correspondents here mention your name--Israel Potter--and say you are an
American, an escaped prisoner of war, but nothing further. I want to
hear your story from your own lips."
Israel immediately began, and related to the Doctor all his adventures
up to the present time.
"I suppose," said the Doctor, upon Israel's concluding, "that you desire
to return to your friends across the sea?"
"That I do, Doctor," said Israel.
"Well, I think I shall be able to procure you a passage."
Israel's eyes sparkled with delight. The mild sage noticed it, and
added: "But events in these times are uncertain. At the prospect of
pleasure never be elated; but, without depression, respect the omens of
ill. So much my life has taught me, my honest friend."
Israel felt as though a plum-pudding had been thrust under his nostrils,
and then as rapidly withdrawn.
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