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As “honest John” was drawing on his gloves to leave his commercial institution, after the above occurrences had had some ten days’ grace; one evening, the senior partner of the house of Perkins & Ball came in. Greetings were cordial, and in the private office of Jenks, an hour’s discourse took place between the merchants; which, in brief transcription, may be summed up in the fact, that Jenks received a two-third indemnification on all his liabilities for the smashed house of P. & B., which the senior partner assured him, arose from the fact of his, Jenks’, gentlemanly forbearance in not joining the clamor against them, in the adverse hour, nor pushing his claims, when he had reason to believe that they were down; quite down at the heel. Jenks “hoped” he should never be found on the wrong or even doubtful side of humanity, gentlemanly courtesy, or Christian kindness; they shook hands and parted; the senior partner of the exploded firm requesting, and Jenks agreeing, to say every thing he could towards sustaining the honor of the house of P. & B., and recreating its now almost extinguished credit. Those who fought the bankrupt merchants most got the least, and because Jenks preserved an undisturbed serenity, when it was known that he was as deeply a loser, they supposed, as any one, they were staggered at his philosophy, or amused at his extreme good nature. This latter result seemed the most popular and accepted notion of Jenks’ character, and proved the ground-work of his pecuniary destruction.

The firm of Perkins & Ball crept up again; Jenks had, on all occasions, spoken in the most favorable terms of the firm; he not only freely endorsed again for them, but stood their referee generally. In the meantime, Jenks’ celebrity for good nature and open-heartedness had drawn around him a host of patrons and admirers. Jenks’ name became a circulating medium for half his business acquaintances. If Brown was short in his cash account, five hundred or a thousand dollars—-

“Just run over to Jenks’,” he’d say to his clerk; “ask him to favor me with a check until the middle of the week.” It was done.

“Terms–thirty days with good endorsed paper,” was sufficient for the adventurous Smith to buy and depend on Jenks’ autograph to secure the goods. When in funds, Bingle went where he chose; when a little short, Jenks had his patronage. Jenks kept but few memorandums of acts of kindness he daily committed; hence when the evil effects of them began to revolve upon him–if not mortified or ashamed of his “bargains,” he at least was astounded at the results. Brown, whose due bills or memorandums Jenks held, to the amount of seven thousand dollars, accommodation loans, took an apoplectic, one warm summer’s day, after taking a luxurious dinner. Jenks had hardly learned that Brown’s affairs were pronounced in a state of deferred bankruptcy, when the first rumor reached him that Smith had bolted, after a heavy transaction in “woolens”–Jenks his principal endorser–Smith not leaving assets or assigns to the amount of one red farthing.

“By Jove!” poor Jenks muttered, as he tremulously seated himself in his back counting room–“that’s shabby in Smith–very shabby.”

The next morning’s Gazette informed the community that Bingle had failed–liabilities over $200,000–prospects barely giving hopes of ten per cent, all around; and even this hope, upon Jenks’ investigation, proved a forlorn one; by a modus operandi peculiar to the heartless, self-devoted, they got all, Jenks and the few of his ilk, got nothing!

For the first time in his life, Jenks became pecuniarily moody. For the first time, in the course of his mercantile career, of some six years, the force of reflection convinced him, that he had not acted his part judiciously, however “well done” it might be, in point of honor and manliness.