The Literary echo, and Pawcatuck advertiser. [volume] (Westerly, R.I.) 1851-1854, 1852-07-15

shall never come to want"
1t was about this time that Gripe re.
ceived message from his rich old rela'
tive, Henry Fairfield, stating that he
Fairfeld) was dying and wanted to see
him. How this welcome news gladdened
the heart and quickened the pulses Of
the worthy Dab Gripe! Henry Fair
field was dying and wanted to see him
there now was proof positive that he had
won the old mans favor, and conse-
quently would have his property, while
Goodwell, thank fortune, wouldn't get
anything. 1t would require a more
graphic pen than mine to describe how
Dab Gripe grinned and chuckled and
rubbed his hands with glee as he thought
of the dying man and his princely for
tune how he glanced with malicious
eyes at Goodwell's handsome dwelling,
and muttered /" Aha old rebel don't
you wish he had sent for you' Now,
Mr.. Stif-neck, now I'll make you feel
the difference between poverty and rich
es, between farmers and manufacturers.
Yes, I'll learn your stubborn pride to
bow, you old Jackanapes 20
With joyful haste Gripe saddled his
fiery steed and proceeded to the house of
his sick relative. All the way he was
congratulating himself at his good for
tune. But oh! you should have seen
his rueful, anxious countenance, when
he entered the dying mans room, con-
trasting so strangely with the proud
exulting smile which it wore when he
stood upon the threshold. You should
have heard the kind inquiries and SYM
pathizing words that came from his lips
as he bent over the old man and smooth
ed his dying pillow. Fairfield was boil
stored up in sitting posture in the little
blue-curtained bed, and his only attend
ant, lazy slip-shod country girl sat in
one of his favorite arm-chairs staring at
Gripe with her great gawky eyes, but at
Fairfeld's motion to be left alone with
GRIPPE, she reluctantly withdrew.
-" Aminadab Gripe,' said Fairfield as
the door slowly closed, CT have sent
for you for the double purpose Of leaving
my will with you and teaching you a
lesson from my own follies. feel that
1 am dying-the sands of my life have
almost run out, but though my body is
prematurely worn out, yet my mind is
even more active now than when was
well. With vivid distinctness do the
scenes of my former days rise before
me. Oh, that could live my life over
again Oh, that 1 could recall the past
that I could blot out the evil deeds that
I have done, and have recorded in their
stead the good deeds that / might have
done. But this can never be-my hours
of youth and manhood are gone, irrecov-
erably gone-no wish of mine can blot
out the stains that are upon them-no|
deeds of mine can atone for them. Ere
I take my final leave of this world I
wish-to warn you of the dreadful quick
sands upon which my own happiness
was shipwrecked; for if fame tells true,
you are going on in the same course.
Aminadab Gripe, it is auarioe that has
worked the ruin Of both my temporal
and eternal happiness. It was for gold
that I left my home and friends, and
sought my fortunes in the far west-it
was for gold that oppressed the poor,
defrauded the needy and loaded myl
own soul with guilt-it was for gold that
I won the warm affections of a lovely
maiden and made her my wife, and
nav, do not interrupt me, had it not
been for gold I might now have been al
well and happy man, blest with an affec-
tionate wife and a lovely family. N.Y.
wife soon saw through the shallow mask
with which I tried to hide from her eyes
my all-absorbing damning passion of
ayarice. by degrees the conviction forced