Success in Life by Osborne

The Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Jan 9, 1872

Success in Life.

By Osborne

I HAVE heard of two brothers, whose father died, leaving them five hundred dollars apiece. “I will take this money, and make myself a rich man,” said Henry, the younger brother. “I will take this money, and make myself a good man,” said George, the elder. Henry, who knew little beyond the multiplication table, abandoned all thoughts of going to school, and began by peddling, in a small way, over the country. He was shrewd, and quick to learn whatever he gave his attention to; and he gave all his attention to making money. He succeeded. In one year his five hundred dollars had become a thousand. In five years it had grown to be twenty thousand; and at the age of fifty, he was worth a million. George remembered the words of the wise man: “With all thy getting, get understanding.” He spent two-thirds of his money in going to school and acquiring a taste for solid knowledge. He then spent the remainder of his patrimony in purchasing a few acres of land in the neighborhood of a thriving city. He resolved on being a farmer.

After a lapse of thirty-five years, the two brothers met. It was at George’s house. A bright, vigorous, alert, man was George, though upward of fifty-five years old. Henry, though several years younger, was very infirm. He had kept in his counting-room long after the doctors had warned him to give up business, and now he found himself stricken in health beyond repair. But that was not the worst. He was out of his element when not making money. George took him into the library, and showed him a fine collection of books. Poor Henry had never cultivated a taste for reading. He looked upon the books with no more interest than he would have looked on so many bricks. George took him into his garden, but Henry began to cough, and said he was afraid of the east wind. When George pointed out to him a beautiful elm, he only cried, “Pshaw!” George took him into his greenhouse, and talked with enthusiasm of some flowers which seemed to give the farmer great pleasure. Henry shrugged his shoulders and yawned: “Ah! I don’t care for these things.” George asked him if he was fond of paintings and engravings. “No, no! Don’t trouble yourself,” said Henry, “I can’t tell one daub from another.” “Well, you shall hear my daughter Edith play upon the piano; she is no ordinary performer, I assure you.” “Now, don’t, brother—don’t if you love me!” said Henry, beseechingly; “I never could endure music.” “But what can I do to amuse you? Will you take a ride?” “I am afraid of a horse. But if you will drive me carefully down to your village bank, I will stop and have a chat with the president.” Poor Henry! Money was uppermost in his mind. To it he had sacrificed every other good thing. When a few days afterward he parted from his farmer brother, he laid his hand on his shoulder, and said: “George, you can just support yourself comfortably on the interest of your money, and I have got enough to buy up the whole of your town, bank and all, and yet your life has been a success, and mine a dead failure!” Sad, but true words.—Osborne.