Bradford reporter. [volume] (Towanda, Pa.) 1844-1884, 1855-04-21
ON DOLLAR PER ANNUN, INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE.


upon his charity, more than any other starving
wretch What was to him He pited me,
| Heaven knew but what could | expect from
him? 0, the smooth-speaking, soft-spoken
knave, with his pity and his charity? Hypo-
critic in look and word His tone was as gen
tie as if he had been bidding me welcome to
bed and board for my whole life long What
a fawning parasite that would have been now
if | had accosted him like a rich man Well
there is some virtue in these rags, since they
teach false tongues to speak the truth. Then
came my cousin Anthony, whose daughter
| portloned whose runaway son | clothed and
sent to sea- And this Anthony is now great
meal man--a rich mSer, who could buy up half
the county. What says he Why, he was
poor himself the escomdrel-notoiyk knew how
poor, and had been forced to make rule to
| give nothing to beggars aye he called me a
beggar might 60 to the Union, he said !;
the wOrkhouse 0, the precious rascal The
son of my fathers brother, brought up in my
fathers house--worth a hundred thousand
pounds, and would have sent me to the work
house-ne, his only living knsman 0, this
world this world Then-for was resolved
to try them ALL sought out my old school
fellow Nicholas Hume the spend-thrift, whom
[ baiied in my young days, when little richer
than himself, and saved from prison by paying
his debts. What was bis gratitude Why
| he, forSooth, had never heard my name Mi
chael Norris Who was Michael Norris o,
| they knew me we'll enough twenty years ago.
when returned from the West Indies a rich
man. husband of wealthy Creole, master of
hourishing plantations, to visit my early haunts,
| help my poor relations-I found them all in
distress, some way or other--and shook hands
with my old friends Nobody had forgotten
me then. But now that come back a ragged
cripple, houseless, and friendless" And the
old man paused, and lifted his wretched nat
from his thin gray hairs and passed his latter
ed handkerchief over his furrowed brow, with
an air which proved that he was as much OPP
pressed by mental suffering, by indignation and
disappointment, as by the sultry heat Of an
! August noon.
There are none left now" thought old Mi
chael to himself, as, exhausted by his vehemence.
he sank into mildcr mood none left for
me TO apply to now, except the three orphan
children of my poor nephew, William Leslie,
the cousin OF these hard hearted Collinses, and
their mother and they, / fear, are themselves
| i'll great want, and great trouble. He, lately
died, after series of undeserved msfortuneS
and long and wasting illness and she, work
ing as hard as ever woman did work to keep
herself and her family out of the work house
that Union to whose comforts my precious
cousin Anthony SO tenderly consignS me. Poor
things They may well deny any knowledge
Of me, for they never saw me and | have had
a good sample of the slight I'M preston that
| benefits conferred leave behind them Will
| liam was only eighteen when | left England
and returned to jamaica after my last visit.
\ fine, frank-hearted lad he was. remember
wishing to take him with me. But my poor
sister would not part with him. She had mar
ried again after the death of her first husband,
Williams father, and a wretched match she
made; for this second husband proved to be a
habitual drunkard always half mad when in
toXcated, who broke out at last into desperate
frenzy, and, but for my interposition, would
have murdered the poor boy. | seem to see
the struggle now thought the old man, clos
ing his eyes % he flinging himself upon VIII
liam with table knife, and rushing between
them ust soon enough to receive the blade in
my arm. | bear the mark of the wound still
The mailman was sent to an asylum, and there
soon died. And my poor sister, well off for
her station, could not part from this only son.
lie was fine lad, was William, spirited and
generous and when she also died he was al
ready attached to the girl whom he afterwards
married. / helped them, too, for | loved the
| boy / helped on that match, for it was one
of sincere affection, and they were in way to
| earn handsome competence {; there must have
been some imprudencc, or great i'll luck, to have
reduced them to such poverty" SO ran the
train of the old cPipple'S reyery " never sus-
pected it he never wrote to nc and |, en-
gagged in my own affairs, and with children then
of my own-wcll, will see them, however,
They are in this field, cleaning. So said their
neighbor Yes, this is the field there they
are. III see them," thought Michael Norris,
though it is probable that they, too, will
know nothing of me0 And, opening the gate,
the old man limped slowly across the furrows,
and began gathering the scattered cars OF corn
| i'll his withered hand.
We have said the field although, after pass
ing the gate, which admitted him between the
| two high hedges that bound it on the northern
side, the wide eXpanSe from which the wheat
| had just been carried assumed the appearance
rather of large open ridge of arabic land bor-
dered by the high road and terminated by
distant village, than of the small wooded enclo-
| sures so common to the midland counties.
pretty scene it was, as it lay before him, bath
| cd in the sunshine and lovely group was
! that to which his attention was Immediately
directed. A pale young woman, whose regu-
| lar and beautiful features received additional
| interest from her close widows Cap stood be-
! fore him, holding fine infant in arms ;
very pretty girl of twelve or thirteen was
aourishing a tuft Of wheat ears before the ba-
bys eyes, smiling herself at the smile she ex-
cited, while her little brother clung to the mo-
theirs pettcoat in momentary fear of two high
fed dogs attending gentleman and lady riding
slowly along the road
The poor cripple drew back, and sat down
under clump of maple and hawthorn, gay
| nth 4ln ,,,,r,,Io ,riIl ,ro;tnh tho Whita hind.