Daniel And The Devil
by
Daniel was a very wretched man. As he sat with his head bowed upon his desk that evening he made up his mind that his life had been a failure. “I have labored long and diligently,” said he to himself, “and although I am known throughout the city as an industrious and shrewd business man, I am still a poor man, and shall probably continue so to the end of my days unless–unless–“
Here Daniel stopped and shivered. For a week or more he had been brooding over his unhappy lot. There seemed to be but one way out of his trouble, yet his soul revolted from taking that step. That was why he stopped and shivered.
“But,” he argued, “I must do something! My nine children are growing up into big boys and girls. They must have those advantages which my limited means will not admit of! All my life so far has been pure, circumspect, and rigid; poverty has at last broken my spirit. I give up the fight,–I am ready to sell my soul to the Devil!”
“The determination is a wise one,” said a voice at Daniel’s elbow. Daniel looked up and beheld a grim-visaged stranger in the chair beside him. The stranger was arrayed all in black, and he exhaled a distinct odor of sulphur.
“Am I to understand,” asked the stranger, “that you are prepared to enter into a league with the Devil?”
“Yes,” said Daniel, firmly; and he set his teeth together after the fashion of a man who is not to be moved from his purpose.
“Then I am ready to treat with you,” said the stranger.
“Are you the Devil?” asked Daniel, eying the stranger critically.
“No, but I am authorized to enter into contracts for him,” explained the stranger. “My name is Beelzebub, and I am my master’s most trusted agent.”
“Sir,” said Daniel, “you must pardon me (for I am loath to wound your feelings), but one of the rules governing my career as a business man has been to deal directly with principals, and never to trust to the offices of middle-men. The affair now in hand is one concerning the Devil and myself, and between us two and by us two only can the preliminaries be adjusted.”
“As it so happens,” explained Beelzebub, “this is Friday,–commonly called hangman’s day,–and that is as busy a time in our particular locality as a Monday is in a laundry, or as the first of every month is at a book-keeper’s desk. You can understand, perhaps, that this is the Devil’s busy day; therefore be content to make this deal with me, and you will find that my master will cheerfully accept any contract I may enter into as his agent and in his behalf.”
But no,–Daniel would not agree to this; with the Devil himself, and only the Devil himself, would he treat. So he bade Beelzebub go to the Devil and make known his wishes. Beelzebub departed, much chagrined. Presently back came the Devil, and surely it was the Devil this time,–there could be no mistake about it; for he wore a scarlet cloak, and had cloven feet, and carried about with him as many suffocating smells as there are kinds of brimstone, sulphur, and assafoetida.
The two talked over all Daniel’s miseries; the Devil sympathized with Daniel, and ever and anon a malodorous, gummy tear would trickle down the Devil’s sinister nose and drop off on the carpet.
“What you want is money,” said the Devil. “That will give you the comfort and the contentment you crave.”
“Yes,” said Daniel; “it will give me every opportunity to do good.”
“To do good!” repeated the Devil. “To do good, indeed! Yes, it’s many a good time we shall have together, friend Daniel! Ha, ha, ha!” And the Devil laughed uproariously. Nothing seemed more humorous than the prospect of “doing good” with the Devil’s money! But Daniel failed to see what the Devil was so jolly about. Daniel was not a humorist; he was, as we have indicated, a plain business man.