Washington sentinel., 1853-11-08

The Devil and Tom walker.
A STORY OF THE LAST CENTURY.

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The Devil and Tom Walker.
A STORY OF THE LAST CENTURY
BY WASHINGTON IRVING.
As Tom waxed old, however, he grew thought
full. Having secured the good things of this
world, he began to feel anxious about those of
the next. He thought with regret on the bar
gain he had made with his black friend, and
puts his wits to work to cheat him out of his
conditions. He became, therefore, all of sud-
den, violent church goer. He prayed loudly
and strenuously, as if heaven were to be car
ried by force of lungs. Indeed, one might al
ways tell when he had sinned most during the
week by the clamor of his Sunday deyotionl
The quiet Christians who have been modestly
and steadily travelling Zionward, were struck
| with selfreproach at seeing themselves so sud
denly outstripped in their career by this new
made convert Tom was as rigid in religion
as in money matters; he was a stern supervisor
and censurer of his neighbors, and seemed to
think every sin entered up to their account be-
came credit on his page. He even talked of
the expediency of reviving the persecution of
the Quakers and the Anabaptists In word,
Toms zeal became as his riches.
STILL in spite of his strenuous attention to
forms, Tom had a lurking dread that the devil
after all would have his due. That he might
not be taken unawares, therefore, it is said he
always carried small bible in his pocket. He
also had great folio bible in his counting
house desk, and would frequently be found
reading when people called on business; on
such occasions he would lay his green specta-
cles on the book, to mark the place, while he
turned around to drive some usurious bargain.
Some say Tom grew little crack-brained in
his older days, and that, fancying his end ap-
preaching, he had his horse new shod, saddled,
and bridled, and buried with his feet upper
most; because that, at the last day the world
would be turned upside down, in which case be
would find his horse ready for mounting, and
he was determined at the worst to give his old
friend a run for it. This, however, is probably
a mere old wife's fable. If he really did not
take precaution, it was totally superfuous- at
least, SO says the authentic old legend, which
closes his story in the following manner:
One hot afternoon in the dog days, Just as
terrible black thunder gust came up, Tom sat
in his counting-house in his white linen cap and
India silk morning gown. He was on the point
Of foreclosing q mortgage, by which he would
complete the ruin Of an unhappy speculator for
whom he had professed the greatest friendship.
The poor land d.jobber begged him to grant o
few months indulgence. Tom had grown testy
and irritated, and refused another day.
MY family will be ruined and brought upon
the parish, said the land djobber. ~
Charity begins at home, replied Tom; IT
must take care of myself these hard times"
You have made so much money out Of me, 2
I Tom lost his patience and his piety. The
devil take me- said he, Hif / have made
farthingr' s
inst then there were three loud knocks at
the street door. He stepped out to see who
was there. A black man was holding black
horse, which neighed and stamped with impa-
tience. tga isatS II
Tom, you are come for" said the black fel-
low gruf1y. Tom shrunk back, but too late
He had left his little Bible at the bottom Of his
coat-pocket, and his big Bible on the desk bu-
ried under the mortgage he was about to fore
close; never was sinner taken more unawares.
The black man whisked him like child astride
the horse, and away he galloped in the midst Of,
a thunderstorm. The clerks stuck their pens
behind their ears and stared after him from the
windows. Away went Tom Walker, dashing
down the streets, his white cap bobbing up and
down, his morning gown futtering in the wind,
and his steed striking fire ont of the pavements
at every bound. When the clerks turned to
to look the black man he had disappeared.
Tom Walker never returned to foreclose the
mortgage. "A countryman who lived near the
swamp reported that, in the height of the thun-
der gust, he had heard great clattering Of hoofs
and howling along the road, and that when he
ran to the window he Just caught sight of a fig
ure such as have described, on horse that
galloped like mad across the fields, over the
hills, and down into the black hemlock swamps
towards the old Indian fort and that shortly
after thunderbolt fell in that direction, which
seemed to set the whole forest in a blaze.
The good people Of Boston shook their heads
and shrugged their shoulders. They had been
so accustomed to witches, and goblins, and
tricks of the devil in all kinds of shapes, from
the first settlement Of the colony, that they
wero not so much horror-struck as might have
been expected. Trustees we're appointed to
take charge of Toms effects There was no
thing, however, to administer upon. On search
ing his Golfers all his bonds and mortgages
were found reduced to cinders. In place of
gold and silver, his iron chest was filed with
chips and shavings; two skeletons lay in his
stable instead of his halfstarved horses, and
the very next day his great house took FIRE and
was burned to the ground.
Such was the end Of Tom Walker and his i'll
gotten wealth Let all gripping money brokers
Law the story well to heart. The truth is not to
be doubted. The very hole under the oak
trees from whence he dug Kidd's money, is to
be seen to this day, and the neighboring swamp
and the old Indian fort is often haunted in
stormy nights by figure on horseback, in a
mourning gown and white cap, which is doubt
less the troubled spirit Of the usurer. In fact,
the story has resolved itself into proverb, and
is the origin Of the popular saying prevalent
throughout New England Of the Devil and
Tom Walker.u
"A WANDERING CHMD.-A young girl Of
about ten years came to this city q few days
a. no N, tho C,pc.nrots co~s oorroo%,J AZ