Chapter 6 OPERATIONS OF FRANK MERRILLS-A SAD HISTORY.-BUSINESS TROUBLES, ETC.

In the fall, of the year 1840, a young man by the name of Franklin Merrills was introduced to me as one the smartest and likeliest business men in the whole country. It was said that he could trade in horses, cattle, sheep, wool, flour, or any thing else, and make money. He belonged to one of the first families in Litchfield county. I thought by his appearance and recommendations that he would be a good customer for me and I sold him a thousand dollars worth of clocks to begin with. He gave me his four months' note which was promptly paid when due.

He hired three pedlars and went with them into Dutchess county New York, where they sold the clocks very fast. The one-day O.G. brass clock was a new thing to them, first-rate for time, and they readily went off for fifteen and twenty dollars apiece. I sold them to him for six dollars apiece, and it appeared, at this rate, that he could make a fortune in a few years. His credit became established for any amount, and he soon began to want clocks about twice as fast as at first. A man by the name of Bates transported them for him in a large two-horse wagon from my place to Washington Hollow, about twelve miles east of Poughkeepsie. Mr. Bates lived in the same neighborhood where Frank was brought up in New Hartford, Conn. Every week or two he would go out with a load. Things moved on in this seemingly prosperous way for some time. One day I accidentally heard that parties in New York with whom I had never dealt, were selling my clocks at very reduced prices, and I began to mistrust that Frank had been selling to them at less than cost. On seeing him, he told me I was greatly mistaken and smoothed down the matter so that it appeared satisfactory to me. He had at this time got into debt about eighteen thousand dollars. One day he went to Hartford and bought seven thousand dollars worth of cotton cloth from a shrewd house in that city, telling them a very fine story that he had a vessel which would sail for South America the next day, and that the cloth must go down immediately on the boat. He told them who his father was, and promised to bring his endorsement in a few days, which was satisfactory to them, and they let him have the goods. But the paper did not come. One of the firm went to New York and there found some of the goods in an Auction store, and a part of them sold. He got out a writ and arrested Frank. His father was sent for, and settled this matter satisfactorily. I thought I would go up to New Hartford and see Capt. Merrills about Frank's affairs-he told me all about them, and said he had been looking over Frank's business very thoroughly, and found that a large amount was owing him and that Frank had shown him on his book invoices of a large amount of goods that he had shipped to South America, besides several large accounts and notes-one of eight thousand dollars. He told me that he thought after paying me and others whom he owed, there would be as much as twenty thousand dollars left. This was very satisfactory to me, though I knew nothing about the cotton cloth speculation at that time. If I had, it would have saved me a great deal of trouble. This was in February, 1844. There was a note of his lying over, unpaid, in the Exchange Bank in Hartford, of two thousand dollars. I had moved a few weeks before this to New Haven. In the latter part of February, I went down to New York to see if he could let me have the two thousand to take up the note; he said he could in a day or two. I told him I would stay till Saturday. On that day he was not able to pay me, but would certainly get it Monday, and urged me to stay over, which I did. He took me into a large establishment with him, and, as I have since had reason to believe, talked with parties who were interested with him, about consigning to them a large quantity of tallow, beeswax and wool which he owned in the West. He told me that he had some trouble with his business, and that all he wanted was a little help; he said he had a great deal of property in New York State, and that if he could raise some money, he could make a very profitable speculation on a lot of wool which he knew about. He told me that if I would give him my notes and acceptances to a certain amount, he would secure me with the obligations of Henry Martin, one of the best farmers there was in Dutchess county. He also gave the names of several merchants in New York who were acquainted with the rich farmers. I called on them and all spoke very highly of him. I thought, there could be no great risk in doing it, for my confidence in Frank was very great. I thought, of course, this would insure my claim of eighteen thousand dollars, but it eventually proved to be a deep-laid plot to swindle me. Frank had no notes or accounts that were of any value; they were all bogus and got up to deceive his poor old father and others. He had no property shipped to South America. It was all found out, when too late, that he had ruined himself by gambling and bad company, often losing a thousand dollars in one night. He was arrested, taken before the Grand Jury of New York, committed to jail for swindling, and died in a few months after. He ruined his father, who was a very cautious man, ruined three rich farmers of Dutchess county, and came very near ruining me. It was a sad history and mortifying to a great many. I was advised by my counsel, Seth P. Staples of New York, to contest the whole thing in law. I had five or six suits on my hands at one time, and it was nine years before I was clear from them. What he owed me for clocks, and what I had to pay on notes and acceptances and the expenses of law, amounted to more than Forty Thousand Dollars. Nine years of wakeful nights of trouble, grief and mortification, for this profligate young man! There never was a man more honest than I was in my intentions to help him in his troubles, and I am quite sure no man got so badly swindled. Every clock maker in the state would have been glad to have sold to him as I did. This young man was well brought up, but bad company ruined him and others with him. This life seems to be full of trials. In latter years I have remembered what an old man often told me when a boy. "Chauncey," he says, "don't you know there are a thousand troubles and difficulties?" I told him I did not know there were; "well," he says, "you will find out if you live long enough." I have lived long enough to see ten thousand troubles, and have found out that the saying of the old man is true. I have narrated but a small part of my business troubless [sic.] in this brief history. One of the most trying things to me now, is to see how I am looked upon by the community since I lost my property. I never was any better when I owned it than I am now, and never behaved any better. But how different is the feeling towards you, when your neighbors can make nothing more out of you, politically or pecuniarily. It makes no difference what, or how much you have done for them heretofore, you are passed by without notice now. It is all money and business, business and money which make the man now-a-days; success is every thing, and it makes very little difference how, or what means he uses to obtain it. How many we see every day that have ten times as much property as they will ever want, who will do any thing but steal to add to their estate, for somebody to fight about when they are dead. I see men every day sixty and seventy years old, building up and pulling down, and preparing, as one might reasonably suppose, to live here forever. Where will they be in a few years? I often think of this. My experience has been great,-I have seen many a man go up and then go down, and many persons who, but a few years ago, were surrounded with honors and wealth, have passed away. The saying of the wise man is true-all is "vanity of vanities" here below. It is now a time of great action in the world but not much reflection.

An incident of my boy-hood has just come into my mind. When an apprentice boy, I was at work with my "boss" on a house in Torringford, very near the residence of Rev. Mr. Mills, the father of Samuel J. Mills the missionary. This was in 1809, fifty-one years ago. This young man was preparing to go out on his missionary voyage. How wickedly we are taught when we are young! I thought he was a mean, lazy fellow. He was riding out every day, as I now suppose, to add to his strength. An old maid lived in the house where I did who perfectly hated him, calling him a good-for-nothing fellow. I, of course, supposed that she knew all about him and that it was so. I am a friend to the missionary cause and have been so a great many years. How many times that wrong impression which I got from that old maid has passed through my mind, and how sorry I have always been for that prejudice. The father of Samuel J. Mills was a very eccentric man and anecdotes of him have been repeatedly told. I attended his church the summer I was in Torringford. He was the strangest man I ever saw, and would say so many laughable things in his sermon that it was next to impossible for me to keep from laughing out loud. His congregation was composed mostly of farmers, and in hot weather they appeared to be very sleepy. The boys would sometimes play and make a good deal of noise, and one Sunday he stopped in the middle of his sermon and looking around in the gallery, said in a loud voice, "boys, if you don't stop your noise and play, you will certainly wake your parents that are asleep below!" I think by this time the good people were all awake; it amused me very much and I have often seen the story printed. Many a time when I think of Mr. Mills, an anecdote of him comes into my mind, and I presume that a great many have heard of the same. He was once traveling through the town of Litchfield where there was at that time a famous law school. Two or three of the students were walking a little way out of town, when who should they see coming along the road but old Mr. Mills. They supposing him to be some old "codger," thought they would have a little fun with him. When they met him one of them asked him "if he had heard the news?" "No," he says, "what is it?" "The devil is dead." "Is he?" says Mr. Mills, "I am sorry for you-poor fatherless children, what will become of you?" I understand that they let him pass without further conversation. He was a good man and looked very old to me, as he always wore a large white wig.