Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1873-04-25

things to mattress laid in the correr Of
the room. The light was rendered so flick
ering by the gusts of wind that swept
through the window-to which bits Of
newspaper had been pasted for want Of
glass-that I could not at first distinguish
very clearly where was, and what saw.
I could only hear the affectionate winnings
of the dog, and vaguely see him leaning
upon some one against whom he was rub
bing his head, and whose face he was lick
ing in an exuberance of love. I heard
voice, too-but voice so husky and brok-
en- that 1t resembled whisper-repeat fee
bly,, "Good dog-good Jim p and then
saw hand unite the basket, and heard the
sound of money poured out on the couch.
"Good Jim i-good Jim - went on the
cracked voice; and 1t began counting,
zone, two. Oh, good Jim !-good Jim
here's shilling. One-aud-pence, and
nine-pence, two shillings. oh, good dog
three, and penny, three and" But here
followed terrified shrek.
"Who's that p cried the man, covering
up the money with his sheet, and he looked
at me, livid and haggard with the sgue of
fever.
"Don't be frightened" I said "I am
come to do you no harm. am friend. I
have followed your dog home, and desire
to help you If you are in need"
He seemed to be a man about fifty, for
his hair was not all grey; but the ghastly
bollowness Of | Is cheeks, the emaciated
condition of his body, and above all, the
fr1a NJ In 10 hrr nt,,r, 10
him older than man of ninety, for they
told more plainly than words could have
told that he already had one foot within the
grave.
My tone and appearance seemed TO re-
assure him but he continued to hide his
money.
az am poor man, SIR" he gasped-"a
very poor man. have nothing but wba,
my dog earns me, and that's nothing. He
goes out TO idle; and If he picks up few
pence, sir, it's all he do pick up"
felt my heart ache, for I guessed the
truth.
"He's not an idle dog" said. HAS he
not earned you more than three shillings
to-day?"
"Oh, no, sir-no sir; it's threepence,"
protested the miser, trembling. "It's
reepence-tlreepence, sir. Look and
see."
And he held up three copper coins from
out of his coverings.
"You are very i'll my man." I said ap-
preaching his mattress. "You must let
me send you DOCTOR"
"Oh, sir! no, no; 1--we no money to
give them. Let me alone, please. Pm not
i'll; shall be better to- morrow. It's moth
ing but a cold-a-a cold"
His dog was continuing to lick his face. I
remembered that the poor brute had not
eaten.
"Your dog must he hungry" observed;
| .'shall give him this bone? He has earn
ed it we'll"
"Oh. God !-oh God! Let that bone
alone" faltered the unhappy wretch, try
ing TO rise "it's my supper for tonight.
Jim doesn't want anything; he picks up
plenty in the streets. oh !-oh! shall
starve If you give him that bone"
"I will buy you something to eat," an
swered, tax ing up the bone, to which there
was no particle OF flesh left. "Here, Jim,"
said I holding it out. But the dog. instead
| of accepting the bone, looked wistfully al
| his master to ask for leave.
"No! no! Jim," painted the miser fear
fully ; and the dog turned away his head,
refusing to be enticed.
"How long have you been laid up like
this?" was my next question. l was grow
| ing sick at heart. ,..
"Ten weeks, sir,-oh, ten weeks,' groan-
ed the man who had caught the bone out
of my hand and thrust it under his pillow
-"ten weeks; and when fell i'll, the dog
went out one morning and brought me
back penny in his mouth. Since then, l
bought him basket, and he goes out ev
cry day = but he's-he's idle, sir
he's idle, he brings me nothing to what he
used to do when we went out together.
Yes-oh, yes he's an idle dogr'
| But why proong such dialogue? Is
there anything more depressing than the
sight OF moral infirmity coupled with bod
lily disease. This palsied miser was rich
man at least rich compared to his station.
He had made himself a small fortune by
the intelligence of his dog, and his sudden
illness, instead of reducing him to pover-
ty, had, on the contrary, only added to his
means. The dog earned more alone than
he had ever earned with his master. Each
morning at the break of day, he went ont
with his empty basket, and every night at
sunset he returned with 1t half full. /
learned this from the miser's neighbors
honest people, though poor, who pretend
ed to believe In the fevered wretch's tales
of want, in order that he might not have
cause to dread them, and so refuse their
necessary services.
There is a good deal of this innate, un-
working poor. These rough and uncouth,
but kindly natures, tended the graceless
miser in his sickness. They bought his
food for him, they washed his linen, and
they asked for no payment for anything
they did. AS for the unhappy mans gold,
II was at their mercy; but the thought OF
touching it never seemed to cross their
minds.
"Only," said one, with a naipe accent, ~
think, sir, twill be better when he's laid
in the ground. His money might be good
then to some as would make use Of it,"
"And the dog?" I murmured reflective
ly.
'Tho dogs his friend, SIR" was the neigh
boris answer, ''and he won't live long when
his masters gone"
And these words were prophecy. sen,
for doctor, for nurse, and for nourish.
ing food, to battle against death but oui
efforts were useless. The mser lived Q
week, and upon each of the seven days the
dog went out, according to his habit. with
his basket round his neck, and remained