Alpena weekly argus. [volume] (Alpena, Mich.) 1871-1893, 1882-12-20
THE MERCHANT AND THE BEGGAR.
SCRAP OF REAL LIFE.


At convenient corner of one of the
most popular thoroughfares of London a
poorly-looking, sad-faced, ragged mendi-
cant had for long time daily taken his
station seeking aims. A more woe-be-
gone man it would be difficult to find.
He was advanced in lfe-he must have
been near three-score-had been once
tall, and evidently of commanding
presence; but he was now bent and trem-
ulous, and seemed near to his end. No
jibes, no sneers, could move him to an
unkind retort; though tears were often
seen upon his cheeks when the finger of
scorn had been pointed at him. He
stood there, at his post, from early morn
ing till late in the afternoon, craving of
all who passed few pence TO aid him in
sustaining his unhappy existence. And
many were the small gifts that fell into
his outstretched palm. His every look
was prayer, and his whole appearance,
from top to toe was an earnest supplica-
ton.
There was one mana young mer-
chant doing good business-a happy
faced, handsome man-who never passed
the old beggar without giving him some
thing; sometimes copper, but oftener sill
yer. For more than year, or, for al
most two years, this gentleman had
passed the mendicant's stand daily, and
made his daily contribution. But the
day came, at length, when the merchant
passed without experimentation be-
slowing his pittance of charity. He did
it once; he did it again, and again-now
turning his face away as he passed that
corner; and that handsome face, which
had been wont to beam upon the beggar
with a warm smile, now wore sad ex-
preston, with never smile upon it.
AT length, when this neglect on the
part of the young merchant had been
going on for week or more, the mendi-
cant, one day, when none others were
near, stopped the gentleman as he was
passing, and spoke with him.
Good sir-you will pardon me the
liberty take; but your conduct of late,
and your bearing, have puzzled me. You
used to be generous. OF late you have
failed to recognize me. Will you tell
me why it is?'
"With pain / tell you; but willingly"
returned the gentleman, trying to smile.
when l was prosperous, | allowed you
to share in my prosperity. Now that
misfortune has befallen me you must
share that also"
"What is the misfortune~
"The failure of an Indian house at
Calcutta, which / had trusted heavily.
The managers failed, owing me ten thous-
and pounds for money advanced, besides
several thousand more for goods. They
cannot pay a penny. | am trying to
struggle up from the blow; but friends
are scarce, and money hard to find. Yet
/ hope to weather the storm. At all
events, will try. And, my friend, you
shall know when have met with sue
cess, for / will then remember YOU"
The mendcant cast furtive glance
around, and then said to the merchant,
In low, musical tone, vastly different
from his usual wall:
"Will you, this afternoon, at half-past
six o'clock, call at Number-Little Bar
rington street, If you will do so, l think
you will meet friend there"
The merchant said he would do so if
he could make it convenient, and then
went his way.
At six o'clock he asked himself if he
should 60, as he had been hidden, to Lit
tic Darlington street, and, after deal
OF anxious cogitation, he resolved to CO.
Arrived at the number designated, he
pulled the bell-knob, and shortly we'll
dressed, polite servant came to the door,
and, upon having received his name,
usbered him into the hall, and thence
Into spacious and elegantly furnished
drawing room, and there he met gentle
man, tall and handsome, dressed in vel
vet and fine linen, who might have been
general or an earl-so far as outward
appearance went, and the visitor would
not have recognized him-not a single
familiar feature would he have been
able to discover, had he not on that very
day, met that same smile, and that same
friendly beaming of the eye, in the old
mendicant of the street corner! Yes,
1t was the beggar himself, now in pro-
prta perSona--and a really grand and
handsome person he was
They shook hands; the solutions were
bries; the visitor was too much of gen.
teman to express great surprise, or TO
aot leave him long in doubt. The first
,alutations over, and the recognition COM
plete and acknowledged, they sat down,
and the old gentleman spoke:
You wonder to find me in this COM
Portable house; and you may wonder
still more when tell you that it belongs
to me-not only it, but six others like it
in this street. You will see am trust
ing you. In my youth was poor enough,
yet well educated. My father was a
poor curate i'm the north of Yorkshire,
who educated me in his own study, and
ut the age of eighteen sent me out to
gain my living. entered into trade,
and for q little time flourished. | had
married young Many years ago-more
than score--I came to London, and my
very firstexperience here was misfortune.
A friend whom had trusted ran away,
carrying with him not only every penny
of my money, but robbing me of my
wardrobe. An old beggar who, twenty
years ago, stood on that very corner
where you have of late seen me, saw my
detected look, and took pity on me. ]
had given him generously. when had il
to give, and lie had marked me. He
hailed me. as / hailed you to-day,
ard asked me why was so sad and
down-hearted. told him my story. /
will not tell you all the conversation
that passed between us. He took me to
his home, and took me in hand to make
beggar of me. had seen my father
su honest, Christian, humble, God-serv-
ing man-absolutely suffering for the
necessaries of life, and resolved that
the world should give me living. /
would not-because l could not-rob,
but / could-and did-beg. Ere long
my teacher gave up to me the old cor
ner, and there ] have been ever since"
And now, sir, will you tell me what
sum you require TO place you spbstan-
tially-frmly-on your feet?"
"Ah! /" replied the young man, shak.