Litchfield enquirer., 1881-05-05

to Lis fathers, and Abraham was left s0me- thing more than wealthy. He had the prop erty in Surrey, a loose hundred thousand or s0 in ConsOls. and. above all, the sleeping part nership in the city. Surely no man stood better as to the future, SD far as worldly prns- perity was concerned;, while the blessings of the poor and needy came daily showering upon his head. And for once in a way. the world was agreed that no man more entirely deserved his happiness.
 The only changes he made in his way of
 living were, to let the house in Brook Street, removing himself 10 chambers in the Albany, and launching more lavishy into cIl, ,ritable expenditure. His chequ-s were always forth coming for the victims of appalling caamities, from explosions in English coal mines to fam ines and contiagratinns in the East. But still his favourite hobby was prisJn reform He was hand ill glove with the governors and chap plains of most of the metropolitan and suburban jails; though these case hardened gentlemen Kept themselves on their guard against the characteristic weakness of their ssisltur. They would remind him that in his sympathy with the suffering he forgot the crimes for which they were doing penance i; that he ignored the necessity for protecting snciety by intiicting deterrent retrlhuIion on the vicious. Naturally. the sIirewder sinners got on the b!iui side of the philanthrnpist |; tut neither dsaplnintments nor indiscre,inns seemed to shake his faith in the perfccliI,ilily of the most erring of his fellow creatures.
 And so it came about that he made the ac quaintance of his too famoIs protege. Pen toniook prison. which had been hitherto be- yond his beat, clanced to become. one sum mer, his favourite resort. It is pleasantly situated in the meadows on the banks of the Thames, halfway between Chrrisey and Staines and in going to il he could combine pleasure with duty. ca liahy d sunny day in July and August might he have been seen scuiling an outrigger between Walton on Thames and the little pIbiIc-house. dear to buating men, where he changed his fannels for more conventional garb. But Abraham had made the acquaintance of Mir. Molyneux. the prison chaplain had taken q strong liking to him at first sight, and had repeatedly in viled him .o dinner at the Albany and the Samaritan Club
 little cottage :" said Mir. Molyntux one even- ing: ''you1 in it qlieter. .aniquite as cnnven tent as The Bells" Mir. Cox had at once ac cepted the mvitaton. He was glad to do a good natured thing by letting the. chaplain make some little return for his dinners and his kindly thnughtfulness had it's reward when MT. M"lyneux, nsllering him into d pretty little sitting-rU'm, presented a young lady as ''my daughter"
 IL was really love at first sight, though Cox as yet knowing nothing of the feeling failed at first to recognise tue symptoms For once, to his surprise he felt difiident and etmbar rassed-phenomena strange enough in man sn entirely free from self consciousness; and he beat rather precipitate retreat to strip his
 1annels up slairs. Miss Mulyneux was wo .1 four aud twenty at the least. She could ilard ly have been illsensible to her own attractions. even if she distrusted her fathers par ialiiy j; aud yet seeing their visitor for the first tune, she never suspected the callse of his confusion She was prepared to like Mir. Cox, and was grateful for his kindness tO her father but he llved iE a very different sphere from theirs; {; and she fancled she was never likely to see much of him though there, as it subsequent ly proved, she was mistaken.
 ''He's nice, daresay, papa. and Pm sure he's very gend: isn't he rather rather well rather stupid1" But she spoke all the more diffidenHy that Mr. MoIyneux had been eloquent in praises of his friend
 Stupid, Saint Cecilia! Why, what can you be dreaming of, my darling? have met few abler men than Cox: vast stores of prac. tical information, and a really remarkable ca pacity for adding to them. Why, though he is always so willing to learn, can tell you he gave nie more than one wrinkle as to prison economy. He has mixed with the criminal classes from Paris to St. Petersburg and ac tually had himself lncked up for d couple of days in the cells of Sing Sing. that he might judge for himself of the solitary and silent system " And Mir Mnlyneux shrugged his shoulders somewhat indignantly an extra ordinary stretch of severity towards his daughter
 ''Ah, well, papa, you know him, and no doubt you are right" returned the young lady apologeIically. She was too honest to recant altogether without being really con vinced And then there's one good thing" she added. changing the suhjrct-''I don't feel Tn the least alarmed at him. and I am quite sure he is extremely good. naturrd. So shall have all the less hesitation in iecoln. mending poor Lurcher to his kindness
 Miss Molyneaux, like Abraham. WAS an on ly and motherless child, and as much or more the pet of her father She had known little of the luxury the banker had been brought up to but since she had arrived early at years of discretion, she had managed, on very mod. crate means, to surround them in their modest household with many of the elegancies of life. Abraham, as he attired himself in his upper lad already assured himself that it was one nf the brightest cottages in the world. while the arrangement of the tiny garden was d miracle of graceful good taste. In all the details of everything about him. he recognized the presence of the ministerng angel who presided over the establishment.
 His enthusiasm might be hurrylng him rather fast yet had he ''inquired below" facts would have confirmed it. MolyneuX had good reason to knew ail the domestic virtues of his daughter. Moreover. she WAS as gently beneficent "ut of doors as within-a sister of mercy in the prison hospital Hitting about the rutf1ed pillows of the sick, and whispering comfort Tn the ears which the most ohdurale bent to listen Then she played the organ ex- qnsitely in chapel. and she led the hymns in a voice that echoed from the hearts of the prisoners. And sp her father in his pride and loving admiration had long ago dubbed her his Saint Cecilia. As for tue saints figure, ii was goh and though her face might be trIf1e over-placid in repose. there was no re- proaclIing 1t with want of expression wien it frightened with mirtl,, or love, or pity. Abra ham seemed to have had the luck at last to light upon his sympathetic affinity"
 For the first time Tn his life he felt reluctant to enter prison. But the clock reminded hln that the hours were slipping away. and he rose to say good bye to his nosrss and that delightful little dra~ing room. Not till then did she muster resolution 10 make her request flor she was little m the habit of asking fa- yours, even for other people. Mir. Cox evi- dently listened to it with unfeigned interest and pleasure; and there was neither confusion of manner nor lack ot decision in his cordial response.
 Anything can do to befriend him you may depend upon; But I must say do think it rather hard that you won't tell me his story yourself"
 No, no. Mr. Cox: had much ratLer leave that to him. And if he tells il as t0uchingly as he told 1t to me. am sure you will forgive me f"r bringing him to your notice. Perhaps should have asked my father to make t..e request but poor James made me promise that would interest myself personally tor him if ever had the opportunity. Pm sure don't know why"
 Il can guess. sad her father. smiling at her. ''The young man is no fool; nor do think any the worse of him for his choice of an advocate must say,' he observed, as he nsntF NSxAdN sS,f,: Sc,