The evening telegraph. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1864-1918, 1868-12-19


chest by what few buttons that emained,
whilst piece Of string seemed to be the
mainstay Of the centre. His trousers glis-
tened in the freight; and those who looked
closely at them would have seen that, where
the folds came, they were worn through aud
showed no undercoveIing to the spare,
shrivelled limbs of the wearer.
Old Thomas, in his younger days, always
had an odd shifting manner, but now, from the
effects Of the cold, his nasal popularity was so
iHcessant that my mother quietly left the
room, and returned with a pocket bandker-
chief, which she presented with smile to her
old antagonist. He received it with q simple
'Thsnk you: always thOughtful;" and the
rest Of the party was equally thankful.
shall never forget the hunger in that mans
looks. | have seen many ead faces in my
time, pinched and lined by want, but there
was something terrible in the expression of
David Thomas when the servant brought in
Tell-furnithed suppe1-tray, which my
mother had quietly ordered. Nor can forget
the ravenous manner in which the hungry.
man devoured the food placed at his disposal,
nor the time he remained occupied in eating
"Oh, how hungry he must have been ~ said
my mother, afterwards. All the shillings and
sixpences of which l had cheated him years
ago seemed jingling in my ears, and reprosch-
ing me for my wickedness; and yet but few
years ago he was worth thousands
When old Thomas had finished his meal he
took his seat again by the fire, as though
nothing extraordinary had occurred since he
had lett it, and having made free use OF my
mothers pocket-handkerchief, said
'Pm afraid we are going to have sharp
winter Y''
"There was every prospect Of It, no doubt;
and there he sits, thought my father, "with
no more clothing on him than would be need
fol in the tropics"
After two or three sips at a glass OF hot
brandy -and-water, which nay mother had
compounded for him, old Thomas said, rather
abruptly
$50 poor Mrs. Maxwell is gone at last: l
saw her death in the paper yesterday"
Yesterday" said my father: sit was there
three weeks ago."
SAY, yes; but don't often see the papers
now. Did she leave any legacies ?"
'Her property was very fairly divided
amongst her kindred"
"And friends % asked the old man.
"No; unless her servants could be called
so," replied my father; ''they were not for
| gotten"
"Humph % and old Thomas drained his
| glass nearly at one gulp, and then rose to go.
"Well, must be Oft, he said, as though
he had been an everyday visitor. "Gsod-
night, Captain"
My mother was gesticulating to my father,
and his own kind heart soon found the mean
| ing of her pantomime.
I'But you've no overcoat, Mr.. Thomas, and
! it's free zipg like mad said my father give
| degrees colder since you came into the house.
Here, let me lend you this OLD rOquelaire; it
will at least keep You warm"
| The garment in question was plaid rogue
laire or cloak, with red plush collar, fastened
by a brass clasp once the thing, assure you,
| Young gentlemen.-and /, who had been sent to
| fetch it by my mother, felt as though | we're
making some restitution for the damage had
| done to the Whitney coat.
"Well," replied old Thomas, "as you say,
it is colder since came out; and this-this
certainly is a comfortable garment-yes; will
borrow it, Captain. Pll send it back" He
! paused.
"Oh, don't trouble yourself about that. Any
time you are passing you can bring 1t, you
! know
"Yeg-yes," muttered old Thomas. 'T've
had charming evening very pleasant even
| ing. Good nightl''
And SO talking, old Thomas went home.
HomeH Where was that
''How sorry l am did not ask him." said
my mother-and then she made her speech
about her cheating. "Pm afraid he is very
badly off, and should have been glad to have
made amends for my former folly"
''Too late now," replied my father, after a
few moments pause. "Do you know, my
dear, do not believe he is as poor as he
looks"
"Good gracious, my dear when his hunger
drove him into our house TO get meal Sex
claimed my mother.
"Well, he certainly must have been hungry
to have cleared the dishes as he did" replied
my father, sand l hope he is better for his
stOwage. But II was not the supper that he
came for-though that might have been in
cuded in his calculation"
"What then 2" asked my mother, in sur
prise.
him legacy" said my father.
"Why, he could have learnt that for shil-
ling, could he not ?"
"Yes; but he preferred saving his shilling, :"
replied my father. "What | have seen to-
night, coupled with his inquiry about the lega-
cies, confirms me in an opinion | have long
entertained, that old Thomas is miserable
old miser."
"Miser % exclaimed my mother, adding pre-
sently, "well, he was always very stingy and
mean, and -"
"There are vices which grow with age, my
dear, and bring their own punishment. None
more 80 than loving money better than our
| fellow creatures"
''Then we've seen the last of our old rogue
laiTe," said i.
"Georee-for fhame ~ cried my mother.
"George, you're a sharp fellow" said my
father. al don't believe he will ever have the
heart to return it, especially as almost made
him present of it,"
Father and / were right. The old Scotch
cloak came not back to us, though my mother
iancied she saw il on certain occasion.
CHAPTER III
In a small house in Islington lived Mrs.
L