Dodge City times. [volume] (Dodge City, Kan.) 1876-1892, 1883-06-21
THE DEACON,S REWARD.

"you will certainly end your days in
the poor-housen'
The Deacon was reading his paper,
quite unconscious, in his furry and
haste, that he had got it upside down.
Mrs. Middleton, a tall, gaunt woman
of sixty, who, by all outward indica-
tons, ought certainly to have been an
old maid, was viewing him severely
through her spectaclcs.
81 hope not, my dear said the
Deacon. Il hope not. What should
put such an unpleasant idea as that
into your head?''
Don't be hypocrite. Deacon!"
said Mrs. Middleton, severely.
"a hypocrite, Eliza?'
Eyes, a hypocrile.' said the lady,
energetically, nodding her head:
What is it but hypocrisy, should
like to know, To sit here and pretend
you haven't just given half cold
chicken to that wretched tramp who is
limping off across the swamp-lot?'
The top of the Deacon's bald head
turned very red.
"He looked so cold and hungry,
Eliza" said he. "You should have
seen him eat and drink!''
Eat and drink, ch?'' satirically re-
peated Mrs. Middleton. "What did
you give him TO drink. I'd like to
know?''
"Only bowl of cold coffee, my
dear" said the Deacon, deprecatingly.
''And that red comforter he had
round his neck?''
Really, my DEAR stammered the
detected culprit, LATTER the nice new
muller which Miss Mitchell gave me
for Christmas, l did not need the old
red comforter. And the poor wretch
was blue with coldn'
"Blue, indcedr' shrilly echoed Mrs.
Middleton. Il wish he'd been black
and purple, and al aa.s of colors, be-
fore he had ever cone here! But it
don't make any difference who it is, or
what ridiculous trurred-up story he
tells-anything viii C you in! Here
we are, in debt; the very house over our
heads mortgaged; the land running
down for want of proper attention, and
YOU are shoveling out our household
goods to every wretched, lazy, idle
loafer and vagabond that comes along!"
MY dear! my dear!" feebly remon-
strated the Deacon
Don't tell me said Mrs. Middleton,
waxing still more wrathful as she medi-
tated upon her wrongs. "All the cOun-
try knows it! There isn't a beggar nor
tramp but knows he is sure of a sup
per and a shilling, if he comes here and
gets your earl"
my dear, we are told in the Good
Book"
ave are told in the Good Book"
angrily interrupted Mrs. Middleton.
not these very words, it's the same
thing. There's Lame Peter Pike, the
fiddler. I'm fairly sick of the sound of
his squeaking old tunes l don't believe
our barn would ever have burned up if
it hadn't been for his old pipe the nj ght
he slept there
lit was the sparks from the locomO-
tive, my dear, which
Sparks from the locomotive, in
deed!' cried the lady. 1.-The meals
you've given him; the nights lodgings
he's had in our barn; and once five dol
lars towards buying him new violin
when his 60: cracked by the frost-and
served him right! l VOW and declare,
Deacon, I've no patience with you! You
are running us! Yes, ruini,ag!'
Deacon Middleton shifted uneasilv in
his chair, and grew very red. If that
Xantippe spouse of his had only known
of the coins slipped at odd times into
the old tiddler's hornyi hand; the cold
meat and mugs of cider surreptit:ously
sent into the barn for Lame Peters
benefit; the tcn-dolar bill at Christmas
IN, hal, h,,x- l,,,,
But there's got to be an end of ALI
this!'' said Mrs. Middleton, excitedly.
I've he'd a lock put on the buttery
door, and I'm going to buy Hobart
Hogley's big dog, that is as savage as
meat axe, and then We'll see"'
Every well, my DEAR" said the mild
Deacon.
I'm tired of keeping free tavern for
all the wretches between here and
Mount Kearsarge," reiterated Mrs. |
Middleton.
Eyes, my DEAR" said the Deacon.
Haven't YOU anything to say for
YOURSELF" cried Mrs. Middleton.
what should L say, my dear?'
gently questioned the Deacon
And the lady flounced Indignantly out
of the room.
But the good mans face grew very
sad and detected when she was gone.
''It's true enough" said he to him.
self, as he laid the newspaper on the |
table and let his spectacies fall slowly |
into their case. I'VE are ruined, al |
though poor Eliza didn'trealize it when
she spoke the words. Old Nickerson |
is clamorous for his money, and the
interest is all behind, and the mortgage |
is going to be foreclosed next month. |
really don't see," the poor Deacon |
added, knitting his brows together aft
er puzzled fashion, show have been
careless or improvident, but somehow
everything has gone wrong There |
was last summers dry spell, and then
that sickness among the cattle, and the |
tall of prices in grain, and the loss of
twenty tons of hay the barn that
burned up-nothing Z. one continuous
run of ill-luck! And there's no use try
ing to fight against fate any longer, so
far as can see. We must Just let the |
old place go-the place where my father
was born before me-and try to rent a /
little house somewhere, and support |
ourselves by raising small fruit and |
vegetables for the summer hotels, as |
best we may. l don't mind it SO much |
myself, but don't know how to tell |
Eliza"
And one or two tears--the agonizing
tears of old age-escaped from under
the Deacon's eyclids, and. trickling
Slowly down his check, fell with noise |
less plash upon his knee.
I'm poltroon to despair" said the
good OLD man to himself. "What does