Rutland weekly herald. [volume] (Rutland, Vt.) 1859-1877, 1872-03-21
BREAD UPON THE WATERS.
a Real Life sketch.
BY wN. ANDREW sIGoURSEY.

BN NM. ANDREW sIGOURNEH.
All, Enoch, now you see how all
your hopes are gone. Here we are,
worn out with age-all our children re-
moved from us by the hand of death,
and ere long we must be the inmates Of
the poor house. Where, now, is the
bread you have cast upon the waters =
The old white-haird man looked up at
his wife. He was, indeed, bent down
with years, and age sat tremblingly up
on him. EnOch Whiting had been a
comparatively wealthy man, and while
fortune had smiled upon him he had ever
been among the first to lend a listening
ear and a helping hand to the case of
distress. But now misfortune was his.
Of his five boys not one was left. Sick
ness and failing strength found him with
but little, and they left him penniless.
An oppressive embargo upon the ship
ping business had been the first weight
upon his head, and Enoch and his wife
were all alone, and gaunt poverty stared
them coldly in the face.
Don't repine, Mary" said the old
man, . True, we are poor. but we are
not fOrsaken.
Not fOrsaken, EnOch. Who is there
to help us now?
The old man raised his trembling fin
ger towards heaven.
All, EnOch, | know God is our
friend; but we should have friends here.
Look back and see how many you
have befriended in days gone past. You
cast your bread upon the waters with a
free hand, but it has not yet returned to
you"
Hush, Mary, you forget what you
say To be sure | may have hoped that
some kind hand Of earth would lift me
from the cold depths Of utter want, but
| do not expect it as a reward for any
thing | may have done. If / have helped
the unfortunate in days gone by, | have
had my full reward in knowing that |
have done my duty to my fellows. o,
Of all the kind deeds | have done to my
suffering fellows, / would not for gold
have one of them blotted out from my
memory All, my fond wife, tbs the
memory of the good done in life that
makes old age happy. Even,nOw, l can
hear again the warm thanks of those
whom | have befriended, and again
can see their happy smiles.
Yes, EnOch, returned the wife, in
lower tone, Il know you have been
good, and in your memory you can be
happy; but, alas there is a present
upon which we must look-there is a
reality upon which we must dwell. We
must beg for food or stdrUei'
The old man started, and deep mark
of pain was drawn across his features.
''Begi' he replied, with a quick shud-
der. mo, Mary-we are"
He hesitated, and a big tear rolled
down his furrowed cheek
''We are what, EnOch."
I'VE are going to the pOOrhOuse :"
20, God. thought so." fell from
the poor wifes lips, as she covered her
face with her hands. Il have thought
so, and have tried to school myself TO
the thought; but my poor old heart /
will not bear it,"
DO not give up, Mary" softly urged T.
the old man, laying his hand upon her T.
arm. 1T makes but little difference to /
US now. We have not long TO remain /
on earth, and let us not wear out our last !
days in useless repinings. Come, come +
but when-when-sha we gO?"
''NOw-tO-day"
Then, God have mercy upon MS.
He will, murmured EnOch.
The old couple sat for while III 81 .
painful thoughts, il was by the stopping
of a wagon in front Of the door. A man .
entered the room where they sat He /
was the keeper Of the poorhouse.
Come. Mr.. Whiting" he said. the .
selectmen and overseer have managed to .
crowd YOU into the poOrhousc. The F..
wagon is at the door. and YOU can get
ready as soon as possible.
10 Il.
strength he should need for this ordeal.
There was a cOldncss in the very tone
and manner Of the man who had come
for him that went like an icc-bOlt to his
heart, and with deep groan he sank in
his scat.
'Comc-be in a hurry, impatiently
urged the keeper.
NJ that moment a heavy covered car
riage drove up to the door.
is this th" house of EnOch Whit
ing
This question was asked by a man who
entered from the carriage. He was q
man, about forty years of
age.
That is my name. said EnOch.
Then they told me truly" uttered
he new conner. Are you from the
,lmshouse 2" he continued, turning to-
wards the keeper.
Yes
Are you after these people :"
Yes
Then you may return Enoch
Whiting goes to no poor house while | .
i've"
The keeper gazed inquiringly into the
eaturcs of the man who addressed him.
md then he left the house.
Don't you remember me Z" eX- ,
laimed the stranger, grasping the old
mans hand.
Il cannot call you to memory now" I
DO you remember Henry Lewis 2"
Lewis 2" repeated Enoch starting up /
rom his chair, and gazing earnestly in I
0 the face of the man before him.
Yes, Enoch Whiting Henry Lewis I
hat little boy whom thirty years ago,
-ou saved from the house Of correction. ,
he poor boy whom you kindly took =
rom the bonds of the law and placed on !
ne Of your vessels. :
And are you" :
''Yes-yes-I am the man you made.
,ou found me rough stone from the
ands of poverty and bad example 1t c
7as you who brushed off the evil and L
~ lI5b ltN EAlI " tAiC bNEJb AdlCIS vi ! "
lOral life and happiness. / have profit Il
d by the lessons you gave me in youth, I
nd the warm spark which your kind Il
ess lighted up in my bosom has grown
Fighter ever since With an affiuence I n
Or life have settled down to enjoy the q
of my days in peace and quiet I
ess with such OF good work as my Y
ands may find to do. | heard of your Z
at1d afeto / ho3 .
le children of your own flesh are all
one, but / am a child of your bounty -,
"a child of your kindness, and now
on shall be nv parent. Come, [ have u
home and heart, and your presence 2
i'll make them both warmer, brighter =
nd happier. Come my more than faith p
i. =