Business and Beneficence.
By Editor
THE conviction that the times are "hard"—which is another way of saying that the people generally are feeling the effects of business depression in the way of shortened incomes and diminished revenues—is becoming general; and nearly every other man one meets (especially if asked for a contribution) shakes his head and begins to remark that "the bottom is falling out," and so on to the end of the chapter. Now we suppose there is some truth in this. But it ought to be taken with a good many grains of salt. It is true that a good many factories have stopped for the present, and a large number of operatives are temporarily out of employment. This is particularly hard for the operating classes; and we have no desire to overlook this fact or underrate the suffering which arises therefrom, especially where bread for hungry mouths is not forthcoming as regularly and in as great plenty as when everything was flourishing in the manufacturing quarters. But we are especially interested in making a little inquiry into the extent of the hard times as they are supposed or believed to affect the upper and middle classes of society. As a matter of fact the hard times mean, to most business men and manufacturers, that they are not making such enormous profits as in some former years; they are not growing rich at such a rapid rate. That there is widespread ruin or bankruptcy does not appear. We will suppose that, in some cases, there are business men who, in former years, have grown rich upon large sales and large profits, who are not at this present time making money, or, in other words, adding to their fortunes. Well, what of it? It does not appear that they are suffering, for the reason that they have money, more or less, laid up from former "years of plenty," and are abundantly able to wait for the turn in the tide of business to bring them profit again. In a few cases some small merchants are suffering, and some salaried men are compelled to take reduced pay for their work; but there is no general distress. No one can walk the streets of New York, and look at the enormous stock of elegant goods displayed in the shop windows, and observe the surging crowds of shoppers who are fairly struggling to buy, and yet feel that the times are distressingly hard. . . . There is one place, however, which shows that the times are hard. That is the collection plate and the subscription books which are opened and presented for the beneficence of the people. Here you are convinced that the times are hard, and that business is dull, and the people have scarcely enough to make ends meet. This offers some food for thought. It suggests that the beneficence of a large number of people is not so much a gift based on principles of worship and high moral obligation, as that it is a religious luxury, which can be indulged in when it does not involve any self-denial. In other words, if hard times are to be met with economical habits, the "luxury of giving" must first be cut off. No doubt, there are other places where retrenchment has taken place; but it is safe to say that the first luxury which seven-tenths of the people dispense with is their contribution to religious and charitable work. It is not first the cigars, the ice-cream, the new bonnet or hat; not the new winter wrap for the ladies, or overcoat for the gentlemen. Such curtailments may come along by and by, but not until the experiment of withholding the whole or part of the usual gift to the Lord has been tried. We have heard many say within a few days: "It is Christmas-time, you know, and times are hard; and so we cannot give as we would like to." We have failed to hear many say: "It is hard times now, and as we must not begin to cut down the Lord's work, so we will have to make less expensive presents, or give remembrances instead of gifts." It is not the table, but the collection box which suffers. . . . "I cannot give my usual subscription this year," said a well-known man, living not a thousand miles from New York. "Why so?" queried his pastor. "Because, owing to business depression, I have more than two hundred thousand dollars for which I can find no safe investment. The consequence is that it is lying idle in the bank, and I am getting no interest for it." But the pastor had not heard of that same man dispensing with butter from his table or doing without horses or carriages till times improved. An inspection of his parlors revealed a new picture which was worth twice or ten times as much as his subscription to the object in question had ever been. The pastor wondered how he could afford to buy it when "times were so hard," and learned that his parishioner had been enabled to buy it very cheaply owing to the hard times—although his two hundred thousand was not returning any interest. That little interview was another side light upon the subject of the relation of business to beneficence. Another parishioner who was not nearly so well off, and who was actually losing a great deal of money, doubled his usual subscription. The explanation in this case was: "If business goes on at this rate I may not have anything to give another year; so I thought it best to give while I had something left. That, I know I will not lose, whatever happens." Which was the wiser, not to say the more Christian, of the two men? Let us not belie our profession by saying in effect, "The time has come when economy must begin at the house of God;" but rather remember that it is "judgment" that begins at the house of God, and God may judge us in the matter, and bring in a verdict something like this: "I have blessed you with years of plenty; but because I have tried you with one or two years of diminished property, you have replied by 'robbing me in tithes and offerings.'"—N. Y. Independent.