Des Arc citizen., 1859-04-08
THE DEVIL AND TOM WALKER.
A STORY OF THE LAST CENTURY

BY WASHINGTON IRVING.
 As Tom waxed old, however, he grew Having secured the good things of this world, he began to feel anx ious about the next. He thought with re- gret on the bargain he had made with his black friend, and put his wits to work to cheat him out of his conditions. He be- came, therefore. all of sudden violent church -goer. He prayed loudly and srenuously, as if heaven were to be car ried by force of lungs. Indeed, one might always tell when he sinned most during the week by the elamor of his Sunday de- votion. The quiet Christians who had been modestly and quietly travelling Zion ward were stru k with self-reproach at seeing themselves SC suddenly outstripped in their career by this new-lnade convert. Tom was as rigid in religion as in money matters; he was stern supervisor and censurer of his neighbors, and seemed to think every sin entered up to their account became credit on his page He even talked of the expediency of revivng the persecution of the Quakers and Anabap- lists. In word, Toms zeal became as his riches.
 Still, in spite of his strenuous attention 10 forms, Tom had lurking dread that the devil after all would have his due That he might not be taken unawares, il is said he always carried a small Bible in his pocket. He also had a great folio Bible in his counting house desk. and would be frequently found read ing when people called on business; on such occasions he would lay his green spectacles on the book to mark the place, while he turned around to drive some usurous bargain.
 Some say Tom grew little crack -brain- ed in his older days, and that, fancying his end approaching, he had his horse newly shod, saddled and bridled, and bu- ried with his feet uppermost, because that, at the last day, the world would be turned upside down, in which case he would find his horse ready for mounting, and he was determined at the worst 10 give his friend a run for it. This, however, IS probably a mere old wife's fable. If he really did take that precaution, it was totally super fuous-at least, so says, the authentic old legend which closes his story in the fol- lowing manner:
 One hot afternoon in the dog 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 mort gage, by which he would complete the ruin of an unhappy speculator for whom he had prolessed the greatest friendship. The poor land -jobber begged him to grant few months, indulgence. Tom had grown testy and irrilated, and refused an- other day.
 My family will be ruined and brought upon the parish" said the land d-jobber.
 "Charity begins at home, /" replied Tom, /" I must take care of myself these hard umes."
 {" You have made so much money out of me-" said the speculalor.
 Tom lost his patience and his piety !" The devil take me-" said he, !" if have made farthing."
 Just then there were three loud knocks at the street door. He stepped out to see who was there. A black man with a black horse, which neighed and stamped with impotence.
 ' Tom, you are come for" said the black fellow, gruffly. Tom shrunll back, but too late. He had left his Bible at the bottom of his coat pocket, and his big Bible on the desk, buried under the mort gage he was about to forelose-never was poor sinner taken more unawares. The black man whisked him like child astride of the horse, and away he galIoped in the midst of thunderstorm. The clerk: stuck their pens behind their ears and stared after him from the windows Away weut Tom Walker dashing dowr the streets. his white cap bobbing up and down, his morning gown fuuerIng in lhe wind. and his steed striking fire out of the pavemenls at every bound. When the clerks turned to look, the black man hac disappeared.
 ! Tor, IVallrar pauar rafurpaI in foro