ting upon my future course of _life_,
when an accident determined me. I picked up a pocket-book,"--(here
Captain Debriseau eyed him hard)--"I know what you mean, continued
McElvina, but it _was_ on the pavement, and not _in a pocket_, as you
would imply by your looks. It was full of slips and scraps of paper of
all sorts, which I did not take the trouble to read. The only available
articles it contained, were three one-pound notes. The owner's name and
address were written on the first blank leaf. I cannot tell what
possessed me, but I had an irresistible desire to be honest once in my
life, and the temptation to be otherwise not being very great, I took
the pocket-book to the address, and arrived at the house, just as the
old gentleman to whom it belonged was giving _directions_ to have it
advertised. He was in evident perturbation at his loss--and I came just
at the fortunate moment. He seized his book with rapture, examined all
the papers, and counted over the bills and notes.
"`Honesty is a scarce commodity, young man,' said he, as he passed the
leathern tongue of the book through the strap. `You have brought me my
book without waiting till a reward was offered. I desired my clerk to
offer twenty guineas in the advertisement--I will now give you a larger
sum.' He sat down, opened a cheque-book, and wrote me a draft on his
banker. It was for one hundred pounds! I was profuse in my
acknowledgments, while he replaced his book in his inside-pocket, and
buttoned up his coat. `Honesty is a scarce commodity, young man,'
repeated he; `call here to-morrow at one o'clock, and I will see if I
can be of any further service to you.'
"I returned to my lodgings in a very thoughtful mood. I was astonished
at the old man's generosity, and still more at my having honestly
obtained so large a sum. I went to bed, and reflected on what had
passed. The words of the old gentleman still rang in my ears--`Honesty
is a scarce commodity.' I communed with myself. Here have I been
nearly all my life, exercising all my talents, exerting all my energies
in dishonest practices, and when did I, even at the most successful hit,
obtain as much money as I have by an honest act? I recalled the many
days of anxious waiting that I had found necessary to accomplish a
scheme of fraud--the doubtful success--the necessity of satisfying my
associates--the inability of turning into ready money the articles
purloined until the hue and cry
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