"And did you think so, my friend?"

"No," he replied, "I did not; but he told me that if I did not stay he
would give me no further employment."

"And so," said I, "you violated your conscience, wronged your own soul,
disappointed me, and all for the sake of obliging a man who was willing
that you should suffer in point of conscience and reputation, if his
selfish purposes might be answered."

"I am sensible," said he, "that I did wrong, but what course shall we
pursue, who are dependent upon our daily labor, for our support?"

"I admit," said I, "that you and others similarly situated, are under a
grievous temptation. But honesty, in the long run, is the best policy.
Acting upon the same principles with the gentleman who has detained you,
_I_ might hereafter refuse to employ you. And others might refuse, whose
work you are probably engaged to perform, but are postponing to gratify
_him_. The consequence of all this is, that your promises will soon pass
for nothing. You will be considered as a man not of your word, and when
once your good name is lost, you will become poorer than you now are,
and remain without employment and without friends."

No one, it is believed, can read the foregoing incident without being
impressed with the great impropriety chargeable upon the gentleman
referred to. The temptation he spread before the poor mechanic was
utterly wrong and unbecoming. It was nothing short of oppression. It was
bringing his wealth to bear upon a point with which it had no legitimate
connection. It was placing self before right; it was a reckless