The Albany register. [volume] (Albany, Or.) 1868-18??, 1874-12-18
"Sen1-d-colon." :"

the woman who shares the seat with
Mr. Pennywise. ''Come along do
Conductor, git out here. -
And away she hurries, dragging Jane
Maria with her. A crowd of passen-
gers fill the center of the car. Mr..
Pennywise heaves a luxurious sigh,
throws up the window, and puts up his
legs. They touch something. He looks
down. 1t is a pocket book-a black
leather pocket -book-which lies upon
the cushions. In an instant, without
rejecting about the act, Mr. Pennywise
has it in his hand.
Whose is it ?" he asked himself.
Conscience answered:
"1t belongs to that unpleasant
woman"
Sophistry interposed at once:
'' It may have been there when you
Sc So it may" said Mr.. Pennywise.
And the woman might say it was
hers"
Such is the depravity of the human
heart, replied Mr.. Pennywise. "Be
sides"
Where was the woman? Gone. Of
course, he must run after her and in
quire. He arose slowly.
This amt your station" said the
conductor, and the cars few on. The
chance was gone.
Mr.. Pennywise still held the pocket
book. He had not opened it. The
fresh air blew across his face, balmy
and sweet and pure. It swept away the
demoraizing influence of bad ventila-
ton. Mr.. Pennywise had reseated hino-
self with consolatory reflection that
he had probably found good deal of
money. In ten minutes there was no
consolation for him. Conscience awoke
from her temporary suffocation and
pointed her finger at him, and said:
f' You are thief. You might as well
broken a commandment. Can you ever
show your face in the pulpit again ? I'm
ashamed of you"
The Rev. Mr.. Pennywise writhed in
torture he hid his face in his handker-
chief ard fairly groaned. Awful
thoughts possessed him. Perhaps this
pocket-book held the little all of some
poor widow perhaps she would suffer
for the want of it. He might now hold
in his hand the bread of fatherless chill
dren-he who had thought himself SO
good. Men have suffered less remorse
for murder than did Mr.. Pennywise
during that dreadful period of time
which lay between him and Hopes Cor
ners. At last, there they were. Poor
Mr.. .Pennywise hurried out of the car
totally forgetting his traveling-bag and
silk umbrella. He inquired of the
nearest official when he could get back
to Ogrehill and was informed that no
train but the three o'clock train ever
stopped there. Sc there was nothing
for it but to walk back for, of course,
he must leave the pocket-book at the
station where the poor woman would
come to look for it and down the track
Nh. Pennywise started, knowing that
the sun would sink below the horizon
long before he could regain Hopes Cor
ners, and knowing that his Anuie's
mamma expected him to tea at half-past
five o'clock.
MIR. Pennywise reached the station of
Ogrehill at last. He had walked down
the track in the burning sun. His nose
was scorched, his boots we're white with
dust. He was ready to drop with IA
tigue, and his heart ached with remorse.
It was as much as he could do to ad-
dress the station-master calmly and not
grovel in the dust at his feet and cry,
s Here is thief. ;"
However, he did command himself,
and having explained that he had found
the pocket book in the cars, and that
he thought woman in a green shawl
dropped it, placed it in the hands of
the rather dirty ndividual-who, fancy
ing him passenger astray, and at first
inquired what the deuce he wanted
and begging that he would make sure
the woman got it if she came for it,
departed in a wretched frame of mind.
He walked a few yards away from
the station, and then sat down under
tree. Having done what he could, he
was calmer. And now he remembered
that he had left his travelling bag and
umbrella in the car. By this time they
were-heaven knew where, and, of
course, his visit to Hopes Corners must
be postponed. He had no collars, no
cuffs, no anything. Besides. he could
not show his wicked face to pure, true
Annie Snow.
He would take the next train home
He would walk back to the station and
he entered the wooden building and
walked up to the ticket Office.
The first proceeding when one wants
a railway ticket is to pay for it. And
SO Mr.. Pennywise put his hand into his
pocket.
Alas there was no money there. His
pocketbook was gone.
IS Fitting retribution," said the Rev.
Alfred Pennywise. '' Fitting retribu-
tion.'
He walked out into the open air
again. He felt in all his pockets. He
looked on the ground.
'tI know now" said he to himself,
"just how that poor woman felt
IS Wretch that I am, I deserve it !'
He stood still and looked along the
track, not toward Hopes Corners. OF
course he must reach home now as best
he could. 1t would take at least day
and half to do the requisite walking.
Already he was hungry. No matter.
It was his penance.
He accepted it-not cheerfu1ly. He
knew he should never be cheerful any
more, but he bowed his head and said
that it was well. And then he turned
up the bottoms of his pantaloons and
started on his pilgrimage. That night
he took a short nap under a hay
stack.
The next morning he found some
blackberries by the road side.
At noon the sole of his right shoe had
worked loose. At dusk, the left one.
He tore his pocket handkerchief in two
and tied them on. It had begun to rain
F1xz khie time