The Cambria freeman. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1867-1938, 1871-04-22
Gales, ShettRes, 3netOotes, &t
THE ALMIGHTY DOLLAR.
BY GEORGE LIPPARD.
They brought him a dollar.
BY GEORGE LIPPARD.

He took il, clutched it in his long skim
ny fingers, tried its sound against the bed
post, and then gazcd at it long and in
tently with his dull, leaden eyes.
That day, in the hurry Of business,
Death had struck him, even in the street.
He was hurrying TO collect the last
months rent and was on the verge of the
miserable court where his tenants herGed
like beasts in their kennels he was there
with his bank book in his hand when
Death laid his hand upon him.
lie was carried home to his splendid
mansion. lie was laid upon bed with
satin coveret, The lawyer, the rela-
tions and the preacher were sent for. All
day long he lay without speech. moving
only his right hand, as though ia the act
OF counting money.
At midnight he spoke.
lie asked for dollar, and they brought
one to him, and lean and gaunt he sat up
in bis death bed and clutched it with the
grip of death.
A shaded lamp stood on table near
the silken bed. Its light fell family
around the splendid room, where chairs
anu CrAi pSNS anu I'M tOi SIihCli OCN anu
lofty ceiling, all said-GOLD as plainly
as human lips say it.
His hair and eyebrows were white, his
cheeks sunken and his lips thin and sur
rounded by wrinkles that indicated the
passion of avarice. AS he sat up in his
bed with his neck barred and the siken
coverlet wrapped about his lean frame,
his white hair and eyebrows contrasting
with his wasted and wrinkIed face, he
looked like a ghost. And there was life
in that leaden eye, and all that life was
centered on the dollar which he gripped
/ in his clenched fist.
| His wife, a pleasant faced, matronly
| woman, was seated at the foot of the bed
/ His son, a young man of twenty one,
/ dressed in the last touch of fashion, sat
/ by the lawyer. The lawyer sat before
the table pen in hand and gold spectacles
/ on his nose. There was huge parch-
ment spread before him.
''Do you think he will make will }"
/ asked the son.
"Hardly couopos mentis yet" was the
reply. ''Wait. He'll be lucid after a
/ while"
"My DEAR" said the wife, chad not
better send for preacher !"
She rose and took her dying husband
/ by the hand, but he did not mind. His
/ eyes were upon the dollar.
He was a rich man. He owned pal
aces on Walnut and Chestnut streets, and
| hovels and courts on the outskirts. He
had iron mines in this State, copper mines
on ihe lakes somewhere, and golden inter~
ests in California his name was bright
upon the records of twenty banks, he
owned stocks of all kinds he had half
dozen papers in his pay.
He knew but ore crime-to be in debt
without the power to pay.
He knew but one virtue-to get money.
That crime he had not forgiven-this
virtue be had not forgotten in the long
war of thirty-fve years.
To hunt down a debtor, to distress a
tenant, to turn few additional thousands
by sharp speculation-these were the
main achievements of his life.
He was good man his name was on
the silver plate upon the pew-door of a
velvet cushioned church.
He was benevolent man-for every
thousand dollars that he wrung from the
tenants Of his courts, or from the debtors
who writhed beneath his heel, he gave ten
dollars 10 some benevolent institution
lie was jest man--the Jail and tho
rall-----= always found IN him faithful
( and answering advocate.
and now he is q dying mau-see