Rensselaer Republican, Volume 14, Number 52, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 14 September 1882 — A BIPD IN THE HAND. [ARTICLE]

A BI P D IN THE HAND.

Mark Avery and Frank Lardollcwere ; born within a week of each other in a i small New England village, and were ; constantly together until they left school, | Mr. Avery kept a shoe store, and Mr. j Lardelle was a druggist. Both were in-. ' dustrious, sober men of plain manners ; and simple habits. They were devoted io their wives and their homes, and were exceedingly proud of their son’s. ! Mark and Frank, though the best of i friends, were very different in character, i While Mark was slow, quiet and re- | served, Frank from earlier childhood bad been given to romance and adventure and was always longing for excitement. He early voted the life of a druggist “dull” ami “slow,” and, as he was an only son. he-had little difficulty, in ) persuading his father to relinquish his i idea of putting him behind the counter ; to sell drugs and put up prescriptions. I Mr. Lardelle, who was proud of. the | business he .had built up, and of his well-stocked store, did not give up the idea of making his son his successor without many regrets and .deep disappointment; for he had dwelt so much upon the pleasure and comfort iU would be to him to have his son associated with him that he could not think.without bitterness of the time when a.stji'anger would fill his place. Bill he said J little of this to his soil afteF he saw how | opposed Frank was to studying pharmacy. * < “I won’t push Frank into anything he don’t like, Clara,” he said to Ills’wife'as they talked. the matter oven together. “A man must. take an interest in his business or he will never succeed in it. Frank says the life of a druggist'would be distasteful to him, and if that is true, he should never be forced into it. We must let him find something to his mind if we want to have reason to be proud •f him.” , ' Both Frank and Mark left school at eighteen. Mr. Avery, having a large family to Avas hot able to give his eldest son a,, college course; and Frank declined one, though urged by his father to continue his studies for a couple of years longer at least. “I know as much as does,” said Frank, “ an'd it is time I was working my own way. If I keep pegging on at my studies. Jtyark will get,,.the start of me, and I’ll never catch up.” And Mr. Lardelle, only half convinced of the wisdom of his son’s argument, yielded. “ What are vou going to do with vour•elf now, Mark ?” asked Frank, as he met his friend on the street the morning after their graduation from the High School “I am going to work,” •'answered Mark. . ; “No*, to-day?” ;•< “Yes, to-dav. , What would be gained by waiting?”"' ■ 1 ' “You ought to have a little fun before settling down to drudgery. AU work and no play is bad for. any one, and I’m ■ure we worked hard enough over that last examination.” “Yes,” said Mark, “but in taking a play-day I might lose my chance of work, and be forced to keep on playing much longer than would be profitable er agreeable.” “But you are going into your father’s atone, are you not?” “Nb,” said Mark. “He does not need me there. He can manage that well enough alone, he says, and I would be wasting my time. I’m going to work in < the mill. Mr. Harlan has offered me a in the machine-room at three dolr ) three dollars!” cried Frank, f oontdmptuouf ly. t “Itus just three dollars better than ' nothing, said Mark. “And can ‘have a pbiee in the mill, too, if you want ft, / Mr. Harlan said he needed another boy. Cpme with* mo and see about it.” “Not 7,” 1 said Frank, wiltawlaugh. -You don't get me intrtaflSvboleiimill. Tly pe dollars I hope , I’m wartlrmore than thmmr’ “You wouldn’t beArijStn more to Mr. Harlan at present, because you are Mot Mmiliar with the business,” said Mark, “One has to work. I don’t propose to work for $3 a week all my life.” “I shall look for something better,” ,-H Frank. “So shall I,” said Mark, “but I might as Nell be working while I look.”

“You never did have half my ambition, Mark,” said Frank. “You were always one of the slow kind. I’ll leave you far behind me when once I get started. And I mean to start in the right way; not fritter away my time in woolen-mills or shops at small wages. A boid stroke will win me a good place soon, I know.” “Perhaps so,” said Mark, “but I believe in the old saying that ‘ a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.’ I mean to hold on to my $3 a week, while I'm planning for something better.” The friends separated, and Mark turned down the street which led to the mill, where he was put to work immediately in the engine-room. He paid strict attention to his duties, performed them faithfully, and was so anxious to please and so obedient to all rules that he soon attracted the attention of Mr. Harlan, who was pleased to reward his industry by raising his wages to $5. Frank, meanwhile, was idle, and was no nearer finding a place to suit him than on the day he left school. Again did Mark urge him to accept a temporary place in the mill, but to no purpose. . “If I had no ambition, Mark, I suppose I could be content to let all other chances slip sake of steady work and $5 a week; but I was born for something belter than that. There’s no need to worry about me; I’ll be on the top round of the ladder yet, and be able to see you only with a telescope.” But a year passed by, and Frank had not mounted the first round of the ladder. He was dreaming away still of the great things h$ meant to do in the worid, and the vast fortune he expected to accumulate; while Mark had been made book-keeper at the mill, at a salary of S6OO a year. “He’ll neyer get any higher,” said Frank, when his father cited Mark’s success to him. “He’ll be a bookkeeper on $606 a year for the rest of his life. I wasn’t born for such drudgery.” A few months later Mark heard that Frank had gone to the city. “He found this place too small for him,” said,old Mr. Lardelle, when Mark stepped into the drug-store on his way home one night to inquire for his friend. “Frank is determined to make a fortune.”

Later, Mark heard that Frank had gone into the business of a broker. But what he did not hear was that Mr. Lardelle had expended $2,00(1, the savings of many years, to establish his son. Years passed, add Frank did not return to his old home. His friends in the little town heard vague rumors of the daring speculations in which he embarked, and believed him to be too busy making hip fortune to spare time for a visit. But ithe truth was that Ffrank had failed as yet- to realite the golden dreams of his you|h, and found that his expenses far exceeded his income. Even his mother did not know how frequent were the calls he made on his father for money, or how wild were the speculations in which he indulged in his mad pursuit after wealth. Mr. Lardelle found it extremely difficult to meet his son’s demands for money. He was forced to sacrifice his property bit by bit, until at last he mortgaged the house in which he lived. Yet he still believed in his son, and put faith in his assurances that each speculation into which he entered was certain of success. But he grew bent and grey. His face looked -sad and worn, and people began to say that old Mr. Lardelle was failing fast. Alter an absence-of ten years Frank. came home for a two davs’ visit, and of Course dropped in at the mill to see his old friend. He was dressed with great elegance; sported eye-glasses and a cane, and wore a tall silk hat, patent leather boots and diamond shirt studs. On the little finger of his left hand was a large seal ring, and he frequently drew from his pocket a handsome gold watch, ; attached to a heavy chain. “Still pegging away in the old mill, Avery,” he said, as Mark came into the office in response to a call through the speaking tube. “Yes, I’ve grown used to it,” said Mark. “I believe I understand the business as well as Mr. Harlan, now.” “You’re not book-keeping now, I see,” said Frank, glancing toward the desk, where an elderly man was at w’ork over a big ledger. i “No! I gave that up a year ago,” said Mark, “when Mr. Harlan offered to make me superintendent.” “Big wages, I suppose,” said Frank, . with a twinkle of Iris'grey eyes. “I get $1,500 a year,” said Mark, “and if the business continues to prosper I shall receive $2,000 at the end of three years. You see, the town is growing, and I’m sure to make my way.” “Too slowly to suit me.” said Frank. “I couldn’t content myself with such a snail’s pace.” “Then you have been very successful ?” queried Mark. “Not as much so as T would like,” said Frank. “But I see my way now to doing something big, which will insure me a handsome income for the rest of my life. Then I shall give up work and enjoy my money,” and with a gay laugh, and a promise to “look in again before leaving town,” the young speculator left the mill. “Poor Frank!” said Mark, as he watched his friend out of sight. “I’m afraid he is still after that bird in the bush.” ' * Five years more slipped by, and then Frank, with his fortune still unmade, was called to his home to attend the funeral of his father. Mr. Lard&le’s affairs were found to be in a lameritable condition. The drafts made upon him by his idolized sod, whom he had foolishly indulged to his own ruin, had stripped him of every-

thing. After the funeral expenses were paid nothing remained but a meager stock of drugs, which, when sold, would not realize SIOO. Frank was aghast at this state of affairs, and knew not where to turn. Not only was he without means to support himself, but he had his. mother to care for. To return to the city was out of the question. He had no money with which to give the fickle wheel of fortune another turn. In his distress he sought Mark and asked his advice. “If you could only take the store,” said Mark. “The town is growing so fast that you could easily build up a good business. Your father’s health was such for the past few years that he neglected the store, and it has run down. How unfortunate that you know nothing of drugs.” “It is too late now to think of that,” said Frank, sadly. “I see now what a mistake I made in not going into the store seventeen years ago. But regrets won’t help me. I’ve wasted my life so far, perhaps; but I don’t want to waste the rest of it. I must gq to work at once at something which will bring me in enough to support my mother and myself in comfort at least.” “ Suppose you come here,” said Mark. “I can make a place for you as superintendent of the sorting room at a salary of ten dollars a week. Small, I know, but you can work up. I’m junior Jartner in the mill now, and will do all can for you.” “I’m deeply obliged,” said Frank. “I know I don’t deserve this kindness, Mark. But I will show you that I can work. And so you are a partner here? “Yes; I saved my money from the first, and a year ago I found that, principal and interest, I had enough to buy a share in the mill. Mr. Harlan was glad to let me have it, for he is getting old, and has talked a good deal lately of retiring entirely.” “You’ve been tremendously lucky,” said Frank. “I don’t call it luck. I’ve simply stuck to one thing,” said Mark, “and. in nine cases out of ten, when a man does that, the thing pays in the long run—provided it is a legitimate business. I kept my hand on the bird I caught the day I left school, and never chased after the one in the bush.” And Frank felt that, had he followed his friend’s advice years before, he would not have allowed that bird in the bush to ruin him.— Chicago Standard.