The Union and journal. [volume] (Biddeford, Me.) 1858-1882, 1862-06-20
Gbe STORY Teller.
SQUIRE DUNHAM's OLD AGE.
ITS LESSON.

NO, what Is ~ n0wI
Squire Dunham is gone-was found dead
in his bed this morning-was carried of by
stroke Of spoplexy.'
lie was one OF of our prominent citizens.
He'll be widely missed
'rm not at all certain about the last re-
mark. In my opinion there'll 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 I'd
make money. He was shrewd enough at a
bargain and always got the best of it; but
think you'd have to 90 long way to find
the man, woman or child that t'sany the worse
of cause Squire Dunham's finished his
days
Its great pity he couldn't take any OF
his bank stock or real estate with him.
tell you my friend, one finds, after all, its
a losing operation to have all ones property
in what goes for nothing on the Other side.
They want different kind Of coin there
That's fact. reckon Squire Dunham
has learned some new truths by this time
The above conversation took place in city
car just as night was falling, so that passen-
gers could scarcely 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 ut the street crossing and
the friends hurried out together.
In the seat behind them sat sn old man OF
somewhat portly figure and digni6ed pres
ence. He had hard. cold sort Of facc-a
face which no tender sympathies, no high
and noble purposes, no earnest, unselfsh
striyings for right and truth had softened or
spiritualized, and, looking in to the keen
gray eyes, under the shaggy eyebrows, a
heart that had gone to them for pity or mer'
cy would have turned away. Beneath lay
no sweet gushing springs of human life, only
the cold, hard rock where no flowers bios
somed, and from whose bosom gushed nc
streams, gladdening the waste desert OF the
mans soul.
But it was evident that the old gentleman
had been an interested listener to the conyer'
sation which had transpired in the seat before
him. At the first mention Of Squlrc Dun
hams name he had leaned forward and drank
in breathlessly every word that followed
while quick aushcs and strange agitation
went over the hard thin face. He leaned
back, 50 that the men could not catch q
glimrse of his features at they left the car
and his reflections went ON somewhat after
this fashion:
We'll it's pleasant, that'sa fact, for mar
to sit still and see his life held up after he !:
laid in his coffin. never met either Of thes'
men, but it appears one of them, at least Il
pretty well posted up about me, and the es
timation in which am held in public opin'
ION, though he's mistaken my name Tor Sila'
Dunbam, the old lawyer, who died last night,
Complimentary, wasn't it, Stephen Dunhami
| 'spOse there was little spite and envy al
the bottom of it all, just such as poor folks
always 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 ole
banker resided. And that but then follow
ed him into his house, and sat down with
him at his solitary supper-table. and after i
was through these words were the text which
the reused conscience Of the rich man tool
up and preached to him after this wise:
But then, Stephen Dunham,' 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 j,
true. There's no use getting aside of it, fol
it hit the nail straight on the head. You
know, too. that your one aim and object in
life has been to make money, and that ther,
isn't human being above ground that would
have reason to shed tear II you were lait
tonight beneath it. You've got money a'
that man said. You generally get the bes'
Of bargain, but. after all, your half mil
lion that you've delved your whole life to gc
together, won't pass for anything in thai
world that you are getting near now; and
as there's nobody to mourn you here, it ISM
likely you'll have any welcome there
And here Squire Dunham sat down in hi
velvet arw. chair by his marble table. and hi
thoughts went back through the long wind
ing Path of the years Of his youth hr
boyhood, his glad, careless boyhood CANT
back to him. The gentle. loving mother, ,th'
young sweet face Of his sister, rose up befor'
him, and he saw tho little brown costag'