THE HONEST OLD GERMAN

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Nov 27, 1901

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 27, No. 48.

THE HONEST OLD GERMAN.

A VERY good illustration of sterling honesty is given by J. H. Worcester, Jr., as follows:—

Some years ago, a certain Mr. S., being desirous of obtaining a loan, applied to a friend of his, an old and prudent German, to indorse his note, assuring him it would be promptly paid at maturity, and that he should be caused no uneasiness on account of it. The German accepted his statement without distrust and signed his name. The note soon passed into other hands, but when it became due, the original maker was either too poor or too dishonest to pay it.

Great was the consequent surprise of the German at discovering that the indorsement of the note was something beyond the empty form he had supposed, and that Mr. B., the innocent holder into whose hands the note had passed, expected him to pay a sum which he had never intended to pay, and for which he had received no equivalent.

Reluctant to part with his hard-earned capital, and indignant at the deceit practised upon him, he at once sought counsel of an eminent lawyer, in whose hands he placed his cause, determined to resist the collection of the note to the utmost. Judge Blank promised to investigate the case, and bade his client call again in a few days.

Returning at the appointed time, he was met with the assurance, in the most cheerful tone,—“My dear sir, this note is worthless. You can not be compelled to pay it.” And the lawyer went on to show that for the lack of some technicality demanded by the law of the State, the promise was not worth the paper it was written on. The German’s face lighted up.

“What is that you say? I shall not have to pay the note?” “No.” “And S., he will not pay it?” “No.” “And Mr. B., he won’t get his money?” “No, the note is legally void.”

For a moment a look of triumph could be read on the German’s wrinkled features. But it was instantly succeeded by a more sober expression.

“You say Mr. B. won’t get his money?” “No,” repeated his counsel. “Then I will pay the note. I must die sometime.”

“I must die sometime.” Would to God it were written over every desk in the counting-room, over every page of the ledger and the face of every draft, and across every bill, “I must die sometime!”

What a new world it would make, if in all our borrowing and lending, in all the relations of this most complicated thing that we call trade, in which all of us are in some way involved, our hearts might hourly admonish us, “I must die sometime!”—The Lookout.