The Man Who Never Made Mistakes
Mr. Jervis, the assistant bank cashier, was about to close for the day the little window behind which he stood, the door suddenly swung open and a man walked hastily in. “Young man,” he said, “you made a mistake this morning when you cashed that check for me.” Mr. Jervis glanced severely at the speaker, a middle-aged man, in plain farmer’s attire. “We never make mistakes, sir,” he answered, haughtily. “You ‘never make mistakes?’” repeated the farmer. “No, sir. If there is anything wrong, you should have mentioned it when you drew the money.” “Just so, but, you see, I was in a big hurry. I glanced it over, and thought it was all right, but when I got home I found—” “We can’t help that,” interrupted the cashier; “you might have lost or spent it, for all we know. If there has been any mistake, it is yours, and can’t be helped now, it being our inflexible rule not to rectify errors made by customers after leaving the bank.” “All right,” said the farmer, buttoning up his coat and turning to the door. “My name is Johnson. I live just five miles out on the Middleton Road. It is a long way to come, but I don’t mind it. I feel more than repaid by the chance it has afforded me of seeing what I never expected to look upon in this life—a man who never makes mistakes.” The following day the cashier sat examining his balance sheet, a look of perplexity and dismay in his countenance. Every check taken by the bank was before him, every dime paid out had passed through his hands, and yet, in spite of all his efforts there was a deficit of forty-five dollars. Where could the money have gone, and what should he do about it? Suddenly there flashed upon his mind the recollection of the man who had called the day before. Could it be possible that the mistake was against the bank? Yes; it must be so. There was no other way to account for it. An hour later, as Mr. Johnson sat in his garden resting after a day in the hay-field, his acquaintance of the day before turned in at the gate and strode up to him. “My name is Jervis. I am cashier of the Bloomingdale Bank,” he began, confusedly. Mr. Johnson stood up. “O, yes, I remember,” he said, “the man who never makes mistakes. Proud to see you at my home, sir. My dear,” turning to his wife, “this is the young man I was telling you about. As I was saying, we do not meet such people every day.” Mr. Jervis turned very red. Dropping into the chair that Mr. Johnson considerately placed for him, he blurted out: “Mr. Johnson, I am forced to acknowledge that I did make a very serious mistake yesterday morning, when I cashed that check for you, giving you a fifty-dollar bill instead of five.” “That was what I supposed after I got home, and thinking you would be uneasy, I lost no time in going back to make the matter right. I should hardly have taken so long a ride, however, at such a busy season, had I known your rule to be so inflexible as to the rectifying of mistakes.” “But I want to have it rectified,” was the alarmed and excited response. “It is no joke with me, but a serious matter.” “I am far from regarding it in the light of a joke,” said the farmer, coolly. “Still, I see no reason why any difference should be made because the mistake happened to be in my favor.” “Come, father,” interposed Mrs. Johnson, “why do you tease the poor fellow so? You know you put the money away for him. Do go and get it.”15 Thus adjured, Mr. Johnson got the money from the house and handed it to the cashier. Mr. Jervis’ fingers closed over it with feelings of joy and thankfulness that he vainly strove to put into words. “One moment, young man,” said Mr. Johnson, as his visitor turned to leave. “Solomon says, ‘He who answereth a matter before he heareth it, it is folly and shame unto him.’ If you had waited a moment and heard what I had to say yesterday, you would have been spared this mortification and trouble. To this counsel, let me add something of my own: Don’t be so sure again that you never make mistakes.”—Exchange.