The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1879-12-11

IL pOSSIDle 10 speak q WOrd IN MS praise !,
the poor trembling at sound of his
step, and rejoicing at his departure; the
very dogs of the street are shy of him,
/ who has no word of kindness, or no gem
tie act for either man or beast"
"'Tis sufficient that God sees all,
DEAR" the husband said, taking
one of his little childrens hands be-
tween his and trying to rub some heat
into it.
Riddle me this, pa" said the little
one, cheered by the warmth infused
into her puny palm. What is it,
come whether at night or morning, is
sure to come with a greedy warming )"
"Cringer!" shouted the children,
clapping their hands and dancing
around, that's Cringerl "Now, listen
to me, pa" said another; "who is it
that, let him come night or day, every
ones glad when he goes away?"
Cringer!" shouted the children
again, in clamorous chorus. "Cringer!
Ohio, Cringer, of counsel"
My turn next, cried another. "Who
is it that, when at last he'll die, will
make for the worms a stingy pie?"
"Cringer! Cringer! Although if I
we're worm, . said one. think he'd
taste awful bitter to me, cause that's
how he looks"
Yes, and he'll have nothing to COM
fort him, anyway, for his spirit will
have found out by that time that tits
hard to get to heaven without pass"
Well, who is to blame but himself?"
said the Oldest, "he's been making the
bolts ali his life to bar himself out;
'twould be funny enough if miser
should be let into heaven among all the
angels, and all the good saints who
have labored so hard in this world to
get inside the gates of better"
Children" said the father, cit is
your duty to speak well of the foolish
old man"
This remark created a general out
burst of laughter
"Speak well of Cringer!" they all
cried in breath. Why, pa, we
couldn't do that unless we made some
thing up" and Immediately they cud-
died closer together, and Cringer could
see they were still having a delightful
time comparing notes as to who could
make the best rhyme over him.
In the midst of it all their mother
was folding thin shawl about her, and,
after rubbing her blue hands together,
took from it's place on the mantel a
small mirror, and, hiding it under her
arm, half whispered, ooh, provident
God, grant [ may be enabled to sell
this; for he dies before my eyes in need
of medicine, and nay little ones, poor
things, famishingl famishing!" Then
she hurried away on her errand, the wind
Tapping her scant rags about her and
cutting her limbs with it's sharp edge.
"You could prevent that, Cringer,"
said the gobbler, flying with him still
further up the chimney, and bidding
him to look once more through the
freboard.
what dye see now?" he asked.
Cringer, with falling jaw, shook from
head to loot.
"What dye see?" screamed the COB
bier, fiercely; ANSWER me-"
A. DEATH" gasped Christopher; .ssshe
lis dead, and little Wilhelm cold land
stiff beside her"
"Who is dead?" demanded his stern
companion.
"My sister; ali! poor Gretchen! 3"
and hot tear melted the frost from his
eyes as he gazed.
"Your own flesh and blood, Cringer;
that's pretty hard, eh?" and up Chin
ney again swooped the gobbler into the
shrill blast; but, somehow, although he
suffered as before, Cringer felt he de-
served it, and kept his mouth closed on
complaint, when suddenly his COM
panion shook him off his back, and he
found himself tumbling through space,
flinging out his arms with terror-strick-
en- yells, and trying in vain to catch at
something for support, while continu-
ally before his eyes foated a beautiful
vapor. which gradually developed into
a figure with dropping, sorrowful head,
and sweet, mournful eyes. Softly it
raised it's shining finger and pointed
to blank scroll and idle quill, over
which it seemed to preside.
"Son," it said, with a glance of re-
proach that pierced the miser's heart,
Il am Charity! Through your whole
life you have not placed it in my power
to write on yonder scroll one act to re-
commend you, and yet only await your
command"
| At that moment loud crash resound-
ed through the shanty, and Cringer
found himself in the narrow limits of
the coal-box at the hearth, his legs in
the air, and his head buried in ashes,
into which rather undesirable position
he had fallen from his time-honored
high-backed armchair.
Scrambling to his feet he glared
around.
There lay the skeleton of the old COB
bier where he had pitched it, and there,
sure enough, he was under his own
shanty roof.
Then it was only dream after all"
he faltered, in voice that could scarce
ly control whisper. "Sure enough it