The Portland daily press., 1862-06-23
What He Heard.
"Have you heard the news ?"
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''He was, one of our prominent citizens.
He'll be widely missed.
I'm not at all certain about the last remark
In my opinion therell be very few mourners
at Squire Dunham's funeral. He was a hard
old customer from first to last; and all he
thought of, or cared for, was to make money
He was shrewd enough at bargain, and al
ways got the best of it; but l think you'd
have to go a long way to find the man, woman,
or child that's any the worse OFF cause Squire
Dunham's finished his days."
Its great pity he couldn't take any of his
bank stock or real estate with him. l tell you,
my friend, one finds, after all, it's losing OPP
GRAFTON to have all ones property in what goes
for nothing on the other side. They want
different kind of coin there"
"That's fact. l reckon Squire Dunham
has learned some new truths by this time"
The above conversation took place i'm city
car Just as the night was falling, so that the
passengers could hardly discern one another
in the dim twilight. The speakers were two
plain-talking men, in the prime of their years !;
and the conversation was suddenly cut short
for the car stopped at the street crossing, and
the friends hurried out together.
In the seat behind them sat an old man Of
somewhat portly figure and dignified presence
He had hard, cold sort of face-a face which
no tender sympathies, no high and noble pur-
poses. no earnest unselish strivings for right
and truth had softened or spiritualized, and
looking into the keen grey eyes, under the
shaggy eyebrows, heart that had gone to
them for pity or mercy would have turned
away. Beneath lay no sweet gushing springs
of human love. only the cold, hard rock where
no flowers blossomed, and from whose bosom
gushed no streams gladdening the waste desert
of the mans soul
But il was evident that the old gentleman
had been an interested listener TO the CONVEX
sation which had transpired in the seat before
him. At the first mention of Squire Dun
hams name he had leaned forward, and drank
in breathlessly every word which followed ;
while quick flushes and strange agitation went
over the hard, thin face. He leaned back, so
that the men could not catch glimpse of his
features they left the car, and his reflections
went on somewhat after this fashion:
"Well, it's pleasant, that's fact, for man
to sit still and see his life held up after he's
laid in his coffin. l never met either of these
men, but it appears one Of them, at least, is
pretty well posted up about me, and the esti-
nation in which am held in public opinion,
though he's mistaken my name for Silas Dun
ham, the old lawyer, who died last Digit.
Complimentary wasn't it, Stephen Dunham
'spose there was little spite and envy at
the bottom of it all, just such as poor folks al
ways have towards those who have got more
money than they; but then
AT that moment the car stopped in front of
the stately dwelling in which the old banker
resided. And that "but them followed him
into his house, and sat down with him at his
solitary suppcr-table. and after it was through.
these words were the text which the reused
conscience of the rich man took up and preach
edto him after this wise:
"But then, Stephen Durham; :" it whispered
as the rich old miser walked up and down the
gorgeous parlors of his lonely home, "you
know that what that man said about you was
true. There's no use getting aside of it. for it
hit the nail straight on the head. You know
too, that your aim aud object in life has been
to make money, and that there isn't human
being above ground that would have reason to
shed a tear if you were laid tonight beneath
it. You've got money as that man said. You
generally get the best of a bargain, but after
all, your half million that you've delved your
whole life to get together, won't pass for any
thing i'm that world which you're getting pret-
ty near now; and as there's nobody to mourn
you here, it isn't likely you'll have any well
come there"
And here Squire Durham sat down in his
velvet armchair by his marble table, and his
thoughts went back through the long winding
path of the years of his youth. His boyhood.
his glad, careless boyhood came back TO him.
The gentle, loving mother, the Young sweet
face OF his sister, rose up before him, and he
saw the little brown cottage where his life
came up to him. The old appe-tree in front
was frosted with the blossoms of May. and he
stood there with Hetty his little sister, and
her laugh, sweet as the gurgng ofa mountain
brook, was in his ears, and her little round,
plump arms were about his neck. How she
did love him, that little sister Hetty, over
whose sweet face had grown the grass of so
many summers-how proud she was of him,
and he could see the little golden head dancing
out OF the house every night to meet him when
he came home from his work.
Stephen Dllnham's mother was poor widow,
and he had his own way TO make in the world
He had risen step by step In his native town,
and he saw at last that greed of money had
taken possession of him until every other wish
and purpose of his life had been swallowed up
In the pursuit of riches.
He was still a young man when he came TO
the city. but he brought with him the title of
squire, which he had borne for three years.
He took TO himself wife, the daughter of
rich man, and she brought him u hundred
thousand dollars for her dowry; but in a few
years death had summoned her away, and she
had left him no children, whose soft, sweet
voices, calling him "iather," should melt the
cold heart that knew but one love, and that
was money
All this Squire Dunham thought OF. as he
sat alone by the table, with the bright light of
the chandeliers gliding the gray head he rested
on his hands, and he thought, rich man as he
was, that his money didn't pay-that, after all,
the great object OF his life had been. as the
man said, ''losing operation" aud he longcd
10 feel that in the wide world there was one
human being who would be sorry TO hear he
was dead-one human being. man. woman or
child, who would say, Il am happier this night
because you are on earth"
And in the midst of want and ycarning,
sudden recollection flashed across the mind of
Squire Durham. He rose up and walked to
and iro with his hands behind him, and his
forehead knit with perplexing thought, and a
variety of emotions fitting over his face. But
suddenly he stopped, and sat down his foot
resolutely. an do it'll do 1t this very
night" and he went into the hall and took up
his cane, and passed ont into the street, con-
trary TO his usual habit; for the night was dark
and cold.
Did you see Mr.. Minor. Henry ?. 1t was a
faint, monrnitl voice which asked this ques-
ton, and the speaker was pale, sad-iaced wo-
man, whose sunken eyes and hollow checks
told you at once she was an invalid. The
chamber where she sat was very poorly fur
nished, but everything was neat. A small fire
was burning in the CRATE, and a solitary candle
on the stand.
NO, mother, Mr.. Minor won't be at home
for a week" answered the boy slowly and sad
ly, as though he hated 10 communicate the
news. He was a slender. delicate looking boy.
apparently in his twelfth year.
1T is my last hope" said the mother, look
ing despairingly on the thin hands which lay
in her lap. '.There is no way to pay the rent
and the agent said if il wasn't ready when he