The Jeffersonian. [volume] (Stroudsburg, Pa.) 1853-1911, 1871-07-20
The Devil and Tom Walker.
BY WASHINGTON IRVING.

As Tom waxed old he grew thought
lul. Having secured the good things of
this world, be began to feel anxious about
the next He thought with regret on
the bargain he had made with his black
friend, and put his wits to work to cheat
him out Of his conditions. He became,
therefore, all of sudden, a violent
church-goer. He prayed loudly, strenu-
ously, as if heaven were to be carried by
force OF lungs Indeed, one might always
tell, when he had sinned most during the
week by the clamor of his Sunday devo-
ton. The quiet Christians who had been
modestly and quietly travelling Sionward
were struck with self-reproach at seeing
themselves so suddenly outstrpped in
their career by this newly made convert
Tom was as rigid in religion as in money
matters 4; he was a stern supervisor and
censurer OF his neighbors, and seemed to
think that every sin entered up to their
account became a credit on his page. He
even talked of the expediency of reviving
the prosecution of the Quakers and anti
Baptists. In a word, Tow's zeal became
as his riches
Still, in spite of his strenuous atten-
ton to forms, Tom had lurking dread
that the devil after all would have his
due. That he might not be taken un-
awares, therefore, it is said he always car
ried small Bible in his pockets. He
had also a great folio Bible in his count
ing desk, and would frequently be found
reading when people called on business
on such occasions he would lay his green
spectacles on the book to mark the place,
while he turned round to drive some
usurious bargain.
Some say that Tom grew little crack
Drained in his older days, and that fancy
ing his end approaching, be had his horse
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 de-
termined at the worst to give his friend a
run for it. This, however, is probably
mere old wile's fable. If he really did
take that precaution, it was totally super
1uous-a at least, so says the authentic old
legend, which closes his story in the fol-
lowing manner:
"One hot afternoon, in the dog days,
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 foreclos
ing mortgage, by which be would com
plete the ruin of an unhappy speculator,
for whom he had profeSsed the greatest
friendship. The poor land jobber begged
him to grant few months indulgence
Tom had grown testy and irritated, and
refused another day.
"My family will be ruined and brought
upon the parish, said the land jobber.
"Charity begins at home" cried Tom
Il must take care of myself these hard
times
"You have made so much money out
of me, said the speculator.
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 claek man with a black horse, which |
Deighed and stamped with impatience.
tom, you are come for, said the black |
fellow, grufly.
"Tom shrunk back, but too late He |
had left his little Bible at the bottom of |
his coat pocket, aud bis big Bible on the
lesk, buried under the mortgage he was
about to foreclose-never was a poor sin.
Ter taken more unawares. The black man
1hisked him like a child astride the
horse, and away he galloped in the midst
If thunder storm.
"The clerks stuck their pens behind
heir ears and stared after him from the
Away went Tom Walker dash
ng down the streets, his cap bobbing up
md his morning grown auttering in the
Wind, and his steed striking fire out of
he pavement at every bound. When the