Wreaths of Friendship: A Gift for the Young

PASSING FOR MORE THAN ONE IS WORTH.

The other day I had occasion to pay a man half a dollar, and gave him a dollar bank note, for which he gave me in exchange two silver pieces that I supposed to be worth twenty-five cents each.  One of the pieces, however, I found afterward would only go for sixteen or seventeen cents.  It was not a quarter of a dollar, though it looked very much like one.  It had passed for some eight or nine cents more than it was worth.  Well, that was an affair of very little consequence, you say.  True enough, but I am going to take hold of something else with this handle, that may be of more consequence.

There are a great many folks in the world who, like this pistareen, pass themselves off, or try to pass themselves off, for more than their real value.  It is bad business, though; and they always feel cheap when they get found out, as they are sure to be in the end.

Did you ever see a dandy under a full press of canvas, as the sailors say, showing himself off on one of the principal streets of a city—­on Broadway, for instance, in New York?  He was trying to pass himself off for more than his worth.  And no doubt he succeeded, too, in some instances.  By the way, do you know what definition Webster gives of a dandy in his large dictionary?  It is worth remembering.  Suppose we turn to it.  “A dandy,” says he, “is one who dresses himself like a doll, and carries his character on his back.”  It is a most capital definition; but the silly fellow will pass for something else where he is not known.  He will make a great swell, and some people will believe he is a gentleman.  Indeed, it would not be strange if he should pass himself off, one of these days, upon some young lady who is quite ignorant of this kind of currency, as an Italian count, or, perhaps, the marquis of this or the duke of that.  There is no telling.  But if she takes him for a cent more than Webster rates him at, she gets cheated, depend upon it.  He is not worth the clothes on his back.  He has to cross the street sometimes, to get rid of being dunned by his tailor; and he has been two or three hours trying to find a barber who will trust him.  He’s nothing but a pistareen, and hardly that.

Some people pass themselves off for being very learned, when they are as ignorant as a horse-block.  But, oh! such mistakes as they make sometimes; it is enough to set one into a fit of laughter, only to think of some of them.  I know a miss, who tries to pass herself off for a great reader, when the truth is, she has only dipped up a spoon-full, here and there, from a score or two of authors, and has not the slightest idea about the merits of any of them.  Some one came up with her nicely the other night, at a party.  He had suspicions, I suppose, that she was trying to pass for too much; at all events, he asked her a great many roundabout questions, which she was obliged to answer, and in doing so she let out the secret.  Every body saw what sort of a coin she was, at once.

What fools some folks make of themselves, by attempting to pass for more than they are worth, in the matter of dollars and cents.  It is said, that in the city of New York there are a good many poor fellows that can scarcely get enough money to appear in a respectable suit of clothes, who will buy a dinner in some cheap eating-house for sixpence, and then pick their teeth on the door-steps of the Astor House, to make people think they have dined there.  And that is not any worse than some would-be genteel people manage when the warm season comes on, every year.  They close their front window blinds, and steal into and out of their houses like thieves, or dogs that have just had a flogging, so that their neighbors will think they have gone to Saratoga, or Rockaway, or some other fashionable summer retreat.  They take a good deal of pains to pass for so much more than they are worth—­do they not, little friend?  They only go for pistareens, though, where they are known.

One sometimes comes across a public speaker—­a lawyer—­possibly a preacher—­who displays his eloquence by using all sorts of long and out-of-the-way words.  A man may be listening ever so quietly and innocently, and the first thing he knows, down comes a word about his ears half as long as his arm almost, and half as heavy as a mallet.  That is what the orator calls a knock-down argument; and when he wishes to be particularly convincing and eloquent, he throws at you such brick-bats and bars of iron as incomprehensibility—­epexegetically—­anthropopathically—­so fast that you have scarcely a chance to dodge one before another comes whizzing along.  Of course, you are confounded with the man’s assault and battery, and if you are a thinking person, perhaps fall to musing how such monstrous words can come out of a man’s throat whole, without choking him, or themselves splitting to pieces.  When I hear a public speaker going on in that way, I generally think that the poor fellow is making up in big words what he lacks in brains, and if I could whisper a small word or two in his ear, I should be apt to say, “That will never do, sir.  You can’t pass yourself off for a great scholar with this clap-trap.  You are nothing but a pistareen, and rather smooth at that.  You are, indeed.  Those big words that we have to bend up and twist around to get into our coat-pockets, will not go for sense.  So pray be quiet, and not attempt to pass for any more than you are honestly worth, which is little enough, to be sure.”

I have known boys and girls at school attempt to pass for more than their real value.  Whenever I hear a boy asking somebody to write a composition for him, or to help him write one, which he intends to palm off as his own, or see him jog the boy that sits next him in the school-room, to get some help in reciting a bad lesson, I think of the pistareen, and want very much to caution the little fellow not to pass for more than he is worth.  And it makes very little difference that I know of, whether it is a boy or a girl.  It seems just as bad in one case as it does in the other.

It happens once in a while that a young lady puts on a great many charms that are not natural to her, and uses every kind of deception, just for the sake of being admired, or, perhaps, to get a good husband.  It is bad business, though.  Sensible men are not often caught with such a trap; and if they are, when they find out how the matter stands—­and they will find it out sooner or later—­they despise the trick as one of the meanest that was ever invented.  I have a notion, too, that this kind of deception is pretty common among young gentlemen, as well as young ladies.  But it is a miserable business, whoever may work at it.  It never turns out well in the end, if it does after a fashion at first.  It is a great deal better to be natural, and to act like one’s self.  This passing for more than one is worth, to buy a husband or a wife, as the case may be, don’t pay, as the merchant says.

Some people work like a horse in a bark-mill, to make every body believe they are most excellent Christians, very nearly as pious as the angel Gabriel, when the truth is, their religion is all sham, and they will lie and cheat as bad as any body, if they think they will not be found out.  Whenever I see one of this class, trying with all his might to pass for a saint, with his face as long as a yard-stick, or, perhaps, all lighted up with kindly smiles, I can’t help thinking of the pistareen.  It will come into my mind in spite of all I can do.  Why, all the time the man is putting on these airs, he is plotting some scheme for selfish gain, or some mischief, just as likely as not.  “He does not rise toward heaven like the lark, to make music, but like the hawk, to dart down upon his prey.  If he goes up the Mount of Olives to kneel in prayer, he is about to build an oil-mill up there.  If he weeps by the brook Kedron, he is making ready to fish for eels, or else to drown somebody in the stream.”  Poor man! he has a hard time of it, trying to keep up appearances.  But it will be harder still, by and by, if he does not look out.  He cannot carry his mask with him into the other world.  There no one will pass for any more than he is worth.