The Superior times. [volume] (Superior, Wis.) 1870-1912, 1877-12-29
From Frank Leslie.
THE LAST CUSTOMER
a Christmas Story.

There is, perhaps, not in all England a
prettier little town than Wilton. Since
the days of railway travelling commenced
it has almost been forgotten, lying as ii
does far out of the route of any of the
lines which now, like a network, cross
and re-cross England.
But in the days of stage coaches, when
the " Highfyer " or the q Rapid ratified
along its broad street, the passengers be-
held with delight the neat villas, the
clean, comfortable-looking houses, and
rosy-cheeked children that shouted
merrily as the coach went by. There
was dark side to this brightness. The
great northern road led through the
town, and it was consequently the halt
ing place of beggars and tramps of all
kinds. The lodging houses that gave ac-
commodation to these wayfarers were
situated in dark, dirty alleys, unseen by
the passing traveller, who could have little
suspected, as he gazed ON the vine and
jasmin-trellised porches, and the trim
front gardens of the main street.-the
High street-that behind a scene so fair
lurked so much foulness and misery.
On Christmas Eve, 1925, John Thur
good stood at the door of his shop, which
was rarely seen open at so late an hour;
but number of country people, many
from a far distance, had been making
their purchases for the holiday season,
and John had been unusually busy He
had put up the shutters, and was taking
last look at the snow, which was
whirling in big flakes down the High
street.
Z" Well, | am thankful that this days
work is DONE" he said to himself, and
going in, closed the door,
He had just turned the key and shot
the bolts when he heard low, timid tap
at the door
Now there was not shopkeeper in
Wilton, who, had he heard that tap at
that time of night, but would have
growled surlily, GO along with you,
whoever you are. A pretty time o.
night to be coming, annoying peoplep'
But John Thurgood had a kindly
heart, Some people who could not un-
derstand or appreciate him said he was
led more by his heart than his head. And
perhaps he was, and better it was for the
poor and distressed of Wilton that such
was the case.
The rector excepted, no man was look
ed up to with more respect by the towns
people. Often would many of his poor
er customers get into his debt; but if he
found that their inability to pay arose
neither from idleness nor dissipation, he
never pressed them for his money. Like
his Divine Master, whose example he
tried to follow as closely as frail humanity
can, he went about doing good, and his
deeds of charity were done in secret. TIC
feed the hungry, to comfort the afflicted
to smooth the bed of death, his purse
was as ready as his prayers. Many Of
his brother shopkeepers envied his pros
perity in business, but they had not
est accusation they could have brought
against him was his overfowing goodness
That low, timid rap did not fall sec.
ond time on the door, for it was instantly
opened by John. Before him, with up
turned eyes, in which there was a strange
look of appeal mingled with terror,
stood decently-dressed boy of about
eleven years of age.
Well, my little lad, what brings you
here at so late an hour?" asked John.
Please, SIR" whispered the bow, "is
1t too late to have penny loaf?'
"Why have you not come sooner, my
boy?" he asked, for he saw something
was amiss, and he put the question in q
somewhat legal form.
Mother and |, sir, have lust come to
the town; we have been walking in the
snow all day, and she is very unwell:
and she thinks, sir, if she had something
TO eat she would get better"
now?" J'''
She Is in house in Poplar Lane
believe the woman told me PopIar Lane !,
Johns eyes were growing waterv. be
knew the house WELL 1t was one of thu
lowest haunts in Wilton.
There's the loaf, my dear. Hurr,
home. I'll not be long in following YOU
The form of the boy disappeared il
the darkness. John went to the back.
shop, where hung his great coat, which
he flung over his shoulders; then calling
up stairs, Margery, come down anC
bolt the shop-door, lass; won't be away
long," he snatched parcel of tea, anc
another of sugar from the shelves, anC
away he run
Yes, the staid, sober John Thurgood
aged sixty-seven, ran down the street
bounding over the snow-heaps and half
frozen puddles like schoolboyl
Why did not Margery ask her hus-
band whittier he was going at so late an
hour? Ali but these late and sudden
departures of his were not uncommon.
She knew well that Mercy called him
away, and she loved him the more, if
such a..thing were possible, the oftener
be obeyed her summons