Washington standard. [volume] (Olympia, Wash. Territory) 1860-1921, 1879-03-28
Old Mike, the Miser.
BY e. T. TAGGARD.

There is no such thing as total de-
pravity. No matter how debased
man may be, there yet remains within
his bosom one faint spark of human
feeling. If we search amid the ashes
that whiten the hearth in the morning
We may still find a lingering spark
which we may fan into fame.
If we fail to awaken or arouse human
feeling within the heart of debased
creature, it does not prove its non
existence, but only goes to show that
we have failed to touch the proper
chord. I had an ample illustration of
the truth of what / assert in the con-
fines of our little village.
On its outskirts stood O little log
cabin. 1t was built on the side of the
hill into which its occupant had bur
rowed like rabbit, to secure the space
which was lacking in the tumble down
shanty itself. The sole and only occu-
pant of this dreary abode was Michael
Callaghan, or, as he was more generally
known for miles around. Old Mike, the
Miser.
An Irish miser is an anomaly, but.
nevertheless, we had genuine one in
our village, and the fact that such q
species was rare only served to increase
the curiosity of the people and toJkeep
alive the interest which they manifested
in his every movement.
How he. came to settle there nobody
could declare, but there in that drcary
abode he had dwelt for quarter of a
century, enduring the SCOTS of the
children, the derision of the men, the
contempt of the women, and the rigors
OF the winter uncomplainingly.
Occasionally some inhabitant of the
village in momentary exhibition of
sympathy would present him with food,
but with these few and exceptional
cases he lived from the products of the
garbage of barrels.
The boys, tired after season. ceased
to pelt him with decayed vegetables
and opprobious epithets, but the dogs
that dwelt in the village streets never
ceased to bark and snarl at his heels.
He bore it all meekly and unresist-
ingly, for there was not q dog for miles
around, from the veriest cur to the
noble mastiff, but what had tasted of
the shrunken flesh that chung TO his
wasting bones.
One day, during the month of An.
gust, met him at the hour OF noon
slowly vending his way back to his
hoyel. He had no covering to his head
to protect 1t from the piercing rays of
midsummers sun his long gray hair
was flying to the breeze, and there was
q peculiar flush upon his cheeks. vbeth-
or the result Of the suns rays, the kiss.
ing OF the gentle breeze, or the hectic
mark OF disease, il was impossible to MS.
certain, rs at all times il was desirable to
keep distance between yourself and the
Old miser. His frame seemed bowed
more than ever, his step was less elastic.
and the oaken staff which he always
carried with him fairly bent from the
weight it was upon this occasion called
on to bear. Under his arm he carried
a1olded newspaper, and as he passed
must confess that my ideas in regard to
the doctrine of total depravity were
somewhat shaken.
He was a depraved, debased. de.
mented,. demoralized human being.
utterly shameless, without any apparent
instinct OF humanity, upon whom even
the low-bred ours Of. the village looked
with contempt. The only thing tbat
terminated the pickering spark within
his soul was the sound Of his boarded
dollars. and his sole aim by day and
dreams by night was to increase and
hoard, to accumulate, and to hide be-
yond the reach and eyes of his fellow.
man ms nl-gotten gains. Are you sur
prlsed that my ideas were shaken?
Nearly week passed since tie tot
tering steps of the feeble old miser had
been seen in his accustomed haunts in
the village. The mongrels Of the place
began TO look sleek and fat, for the
portion OF the refuse OF the town that
the old man had appropriated was now
entirely their own. The curiosity Of
the residents had began to be aroused