Ashtabula weekly telegraph. [volume] (Ashtabula, Ohio) 1853-1873, 1868-02-22
Collecting a Bad Debt.

1t was dlngy, lil-ventllatcd little cell
in the topmost stratum Of one of those
human beehives that people call 'tene
ment houses" room where washlub>
and children, kettles and kittens, potato
parings and clothes pins, were scattered
about in reckless disregard Of the divine
principles of order. DIR. Maynard stood
still in the middle of the chaos, afraid to
move lest he should step into the starch
bowl, or on one OF the children who
swarmed about the floor
DIR. Maynard had recently come into
possession of this property by the death
of n relative, ror was he particularly
pleased with his new acquisition. The
few visits lie had made were not accom-
panied with any particularly agreeable
reminiScences,-i fact he dreaded them
as civilized colonist might dread an If
ruption into savage jungles Of African
wilderness. MIR. Maynard had always
made human nature 4 study, but this ma
ture seemed hardly human in its ODD,
Celtic developments.
''Of all the people l ever stumbled ac
ross" said DIR. Maynard, ''the Irish are
most improvident. What is the reason |
can never get my rent on this floor? The
German people down stairs are always
ready, and my American tenants are a
model of punctuality. It's really a very
unaccountable thing to met
''Sure, sir, 'tsn't my fault" said Mrs.
Toolry, lifting the corner of her coarse
checked apron to her eyes, partly to check
the tears that always rose readily to her
muddy blue eyes, and partly to hide the
flush of modification thot sufused her
freckled check; while Terry and Mike
and little Norah clung TO their mothers
voluminous skirts in sort Of vague ap-
prchension that something was wrong,
although their tiny minds could hardly
take in the full meaning of the castastro-
phe that was disturbing their domestic
peace.
"Not your own fault Mrs. Toolcy"
repeated DIR. Maynard, in sharp accents.
But it never is your fault according 70
your own story"
"My man is sick, sir, wild the rheuma-
tiz in his knee joint" apologized the
Ilishwoman, "and It's hard work We have
to get along, and provide the bit and the
sup for the CROWN childher; meself
knows the rint oleht to be paid, anl ii
You'll have a little patience, sir,--"
'Paticnce, patience, paticnce!" eiacu-
lated the Doctor. each word uttered iii
key somewhat higher than the last. ''One
ought to have the patience of job to get
along with such pack of tenants as l
have. Why don't you work :"
Mrs. Toolcy glanced little reproach-
fully at the washtub in the corner, sort
OF altar enshrined in the Incense OF steam
ing soap-suds.
''Indade, sir, try my best; and l had
hoped to have the money ready for to-
day, but Mrs. Napier put me of, as she's
done many time, bad luck till her. It's
the girls new dresses cost so much, says
she. You are too impudemt altogether,
Bridget, says she, and me starvin' for
the money that's me own, and not hers
at all -
''Do you mean Mrs John Napier ?
asked DR.. Maynard.
''Sure. | do, sir, and it's nine dollars
and sixty cents she's OWN me for the
sweat of me brow and the wear and tear
of me hard-w orked hands," said Bridget
Tooley, looking down at the rcd and par
boiled members aforesaid.
"And won't she pay you %
"Niver a red cent, sir, though | told
her how Patrick had the rheumatic; and
the Children hadn't bread and salt to be
comfortable She's niver paid me since
| began to wash for her, five weeks ago
the last Tuesday that ever was !"
dts a shame" said DIR. Maynard Ia
conically.
"Sure an it is, sir" assented Bridget,
do p
DIR. Maynard murmured something un-
der his breath. Mrs. Tooley could just
catch here and there disjointed word OF
the old Bible sentence having regard to
grinding the faces of the poor -
"Well, Bridget, you are not so much
to blame as I thought you were," said he
in a milder tone, as he turned abruptly
on his heel. "I'll call again next week
it's much more than likely you'll have
the money by that time"