p. 46 | Resolve and Push On

Pacific Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Oakland, California · Feb 7, 1878

"Resolve and Push On."

The famous Paris merchant, Julian Legrand, is said to have often related the following incident, seldom closing the narration but with swimming eyes:—

"During the financial crisis and crash of fifty-seven, when great men were sinking all around us, and banks were tottering, our house became alarmed at the condition of its own affairs. The partners—three of us, of whom I was the senior—met in our private office for consultation. Our junior made a careful inventory of everything—of bills receivable and bills payable—and his report was that twenty thousand pounds (speaking in English currency) of ready money, to be held through the pressure, would save us. Without that we must go by the board; the result was inevitable. I went among my friends, but in vain. Men who had gold would not let it go, save upon sound security, and the only security we could give was our word and honor, for the many thousands due us were as nothing in that hour.

"Two whole days I strove and begged, and then returned to the counting house in despair. I sat at my desk, expecting every moment to hear the voice of our junior sounding the terrible words: 'Our paper is protested!' when a gentleman entered my appartment unannounced. He was of middle age, with a frank, gentle face, and though I fancied there was something familiar in his earnest, kindly look, yet I could not call him to mind in any way.

" 'M. Legrand,' he said, taking a seat near my desk, 'I hear that you are in need of money?'

"The very face of the man inspired confidence, and I told him just how I was situated.

" 'Give me your own note of hand, for one year, without interest, for £20,000, and I will give you a check for that amount.'

"While I sat gazing upon him in speechless astonishment, he continued thus:—

" 'You don't remember me, but I remember you. I remember when you were a member of the superintending school committee of Mezieres. I was a boy at the school. My father was dead, my mother was poor, and I was shabbily dressed, though clean. When our class was called up to recite, on examination day, you asked the questions. I fancied you would praise and pet the children of the rich and fortunate parents and pass me by. I blundered and stammered and quivered with shame. But it was not as I had thought. In the end, you passed by all the others and came to me. You laid your hand upon my head and told me I had done very well; and then you told me I could do better still if I would try. You told me that the way to honor and renown was open to all alike—no one had a free pass. All I had to do was to "resolve and push on." That, sir, was the turning point in my life. From that time my soul aspired, and I have never reached a great good without blessing you in my heart. I have prospered, and I now offer you but a poor return for the soul wealth you gave me in that by-gone time.'

"I took the check," said Legrand, "and drew the gold, and our house was saved. And where, at the end of the year," he added, "do you suppose I found my promissory note?"

This was not easily conjectured.

"In the possession," said he with trembling voice, "of my little orphaned granddaughter." And he added, "Hearts like this man's heart brings earth and heaven nearer together."