AN ECCENTRIC CHARACTER.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 670, 16 July 1870, Page 3

AN ECCENTRIC CHARACTER.

Mr Paul Trotter was a man who was everybody's friend but bis own. His course in life seemed to be directed by the maxim of doing for everybody what everybody asked him to do, even to the extent of impossibilities, but in which of course he failed. Whether it was that his heart beat responsive to every other heart, or that he did not like to give offence, or that' he " could not be bothered " to resist importunity, we could never precisely ascertain; but certain it is that he was rarely or never asked to sign a requ'sition, to promise a vote, to lend money, or to endorse a bill, that he did not at once comply. He couldn't say "no;" and there were many, who knew him well, who said he had not the courage to do so. I knew him when a mere boy. He was then the scape-goat of the school. Every mad-cap trick which came to the master's ears was fathered on Paul. One day, a gross caricature of the master, drawn with chalk on the black board, met his eyes on entering the schoolroom when least expected. " Whose trash is this? Is it yours, sirrah?" bellowed the algebraic Triton, turning to a quaking youth with chalky fingers, suspiciously near the black board. "No 1" was the bold answer, and he looked in the direction of little Paul. "Then it was you, scoundrel 1" Paul could not say "No;" of course he was thrashed as usual — for there was little mercy shown in that school, as in most other schools in our younger days. Another time, when some of the boys, among them Paul, were out at their usual forenoon interval, the master's big dog came bounding into the schoolroom with a great tin-pan tied to its tail, and flew along the passage between the forms, where the master was flourishing his cane over the heads of his trembling infantry; the dog caught him under the legs, and canted him over in an instant, his heavy body falling between the dog and the pan. You may conceive the howling of the dog, the consternation of the pupils, and the tremendous indignation of the fallen pedagogue. Of course the mischief was fathered on poor Paul, and as he couldn't say "No," or, at least, said it as if it were unnatural to him, or untrue, he suffered as usual. Any idle truant who wanted a companion, and asked Paul to accompany hun, was sure of his acquiescence. He was sent on all imaginable errands; to a bookseller, to ask if he had a copy of " The History of Adam's Grandfather;" to a grocer, for a pennyworth of " dove's milk;" or to a saddler, for some " strap oil," which generally brought him a warming. He would be presented with an egg, which, on being deposited for safety in bis breeches-pocket, his tempter would "squash" forthwith by a blow; and then Paul had to dig out the remains from amidst pen-knives, whip-cord, and marbles. But he grew out of jackets and buttons, and left school to enter the world, where the consequences arising from saying " Yes " and "No" are more serious than at school. Paul's infirmity accompanied him. He was importuned— as who is not ?— to do this, that, and the other tb : ng, for the advantage or the

pleasure of others. He YrA not the heart to refuse. A party of pleasure was proposed — Paul could never say "No " to this. " Shall we have a glass of something hot tHs cold evening?" Paul was unanimous with the proposer ; and, on these occasions, Paul's habit of acquiescence not unfrequently led to his being selected as the paymaster. Often •he promised what he could not perform — for instance, he in two places at the same time, for he could say "No " to neither's solicitations; and he began to have a bad narr-?; Ms friends said they could not rely upon him— he was not a man of. his promise. He promised too much ; he promised to lend money before he had earned it; he promised to go to the theatre with one party, and join an evening party elsewhere on the same night. He refused nothing — couldn't say "No" to any solicitation. His father left him a snug little fortune, and he was at once beset by persons wanting a share of it. Now was the time to say "No," 5* he could; but he couldn't. His babit of yielding had been formed ; he did not like to be bored ; could not bear to refuse; could not stand importunity ; and almost invariably yielded to the demands made upon his purse. At one time it was a baby-linen providing society, at another an association for prosecuting street beggars; now, a subscription for a monument to some deceased railway man, or some great orator (no matter what his politics); and, again, a joint-stock company for the supply of sweet milk for the metropolis; or it was a new theatre, or a temperance-hall, or a chapel, or a charity ball for the New Zealanders; had it been a gin-palace, be sure you would have seen Paul Trotter's name in the list of patrons and subscribers. While his money lasted, he had no end of friends. He was a universal referee—everybody's bondsman. " Just sign me this little bit of paper,'.' was a request often made to him by particular friends. "What is it?" he would mildly ask ; not for the purpose of raising any objection, far from it, but simply for information— for satisfaction; for, with alibis simplicity, the honast creature some • times prided himself on his caution ! " One must not sign every bit of paper presented to him," he wovTd observe on those occasions. And yet he never refused— not he " Oh, it is all right; one cannot refuse such little fovovrs to a friend;" and he signed. Three months after, a bill for a rather heavy amount would fall due, and who should be called on to make it good but everybody's friend— foolish Paul Trotter ! Many a time he thus burnt his fingers, but never learned wisdom from his losses. At last a maltster, for whom he was bondsman—a person with whom he had only a nodding acquaintance —suddenly came to a stand in his business, ruined by speculations in funds and shares, and Paul was called upon to make good the duties duo to tho Crown. It was a heavy stroke for Paul, and made him a poor man. But he never grew wise. He was a post, against which every needy fellow came and rubbed himself; a tap, from which every thirsty soul could drink; a flitch, at wbich every hungry dog had a pull; an ass, on which every mischievous urchin must have his ride; a mill, that ground everybody's corn but his own; in short, a "a good-hearted fellow," who couldn't, for the life of him, say " No." In his better days, Paul was a borough voter. An election happened, and one day a smirking agent, accompanied by a candidate for Paul's suffrage, marched into his office — " I have the honour to introduce you to Sir Ealph Wheezlepiper, Baronet, a candidate for the representation of this ancient borough in Parliament." A low bow from Paul, and ditto from the Baronet. "He is a friend to all good measures, of large and beneficial plans of reform, and an enemy to all abuses and corruptions in Church and State. Knowing your opinion, I have no doubt we shall have the honour of your support at the approaching election." Paul rubbed his hands—" I shall have the greatest pleasure, I am qiute in favour of the principles which you have ju3t stated, and shall be glad to have the honour of recording my vote in favour of Sir Ralph." A hearty Bha':e of the hands, a few common-places from Sir Palph, an entry made in the little agent's canvassing-book,andthe worthy pair marched out, with loud huzzaing from the attendant partizans. But Paul's tilal was to come. Scarcely had the first candidate left, but the Becond made his appearance. He was the chief banker of the town, and Paul did business at his house. Paul's unresisting compliance with bis friends' requests had rendered bis circumstances less easy now than they had been— and who does not know how good a thing it is to " stand well with one's banker," and have a friend ? This candidate was a man difficult to refuse, and Paul, in his heart, wished that he had come first. He professed himself to be a friend to " our glorious constitution in Church and State ; in favour of all measures calculated to promote the good of the country, and opposed to the destructive principles now afloat, and which threatened rain to our most cherfohed institutions." Paul, after cordially agreeing in the soundness of these views, was solicited for his vote, and — he could not refuse 1 Who would to their banker ? Besides, Paul quite approved of the views summarily expressed by him. Thus he was . pledged to vote for both candidates, simply because he could say "No "to neither. ,* This election was;, a terrible trial to Paul. He was beset by the friends of both candidates, and so entreated and canvassed, bo argued and expostulated with, that he found himself under the necessity of making a nice short summer tour until the election was over, and when he returned, he found that he had been burnt in effigy by both sides. Paul came to a sorry end. He breathed his last in the workhouse. The many friends to whom he never could say "No " did not look near him. They who had beggared him had scarcely their- compassion to give. "Ah I it has just happened as we thought it

would : he was never done throwing away his money : why couldn't he have refused to sign that maltster's ugly bond ? " This was all their sympathy. It is of great importance to a man's peace and well-being that he should be able to say "No" at the right time. Many are ruined because they cannot, or do not say it. Vice often gains a footing within us, because we will not summon up the courage to say " No." We offer ourselves too often as willing sacrifices to the fashion of the world, because we have not the honesty to pronounce the little word. The beauty hesitates to say it, when a rich blockhead offers her his hand, because she has set her ambition upon an " establishment." The courtier will not say it then, for he must smile and promise to all. When pleasure tempts with its seductions, have the courage to say "No" at once. The little monitor within will approve the decision ; aud you will feel virtue grown stronger by the act. When dissipation invites you, and offers its secret pleasures, ' boldly say "No ; " if you do not, if you acquiesce and succumb, you will find virtue has gone out from you, and your self-reliance will have received a fatal shock. The first time may require an effort ; but you will find your strength grow with use. It is the only way of meeting temptations to idleness, to self-indulgence, to folly, to bad custom, to meet it at once with an indignant " No." There is, indeed, great virtue in a "No," when pronounced at the right time.