Huntsville gazette., 1883-11-17

out OF course he did not, and thew finally
parted IN deepest grief on her part and an.
ger on his. As he soon after left the town
and went West to seek his fortunes, he saw
and heard nothing more of her.
foor grip he sighed now, 81 wonder
| now she has Jared? would have been kind
TO her, at least. doubt if he was. All, mel
lie might have been very different to me
| lf-But pshaw! 1 am too old to be senti-
mentalizing. wonder never happened to
read about those poor children before.
hum! Thanksgiving-wel | believe will
| Keep Thanksgiving this year-that is, if
Sarah will let me-" he added, with queer
smile. Il have great mind to be master
IN my own house for once. l never have
been. Sarah has always loomed up ter
ror before me, and | have found it great
| deal easier to give up and do as she pleased.
| Butt
Here he was interrupted by neighbor
VINO, approaching him, begged few mo-
ments' conversation. Some of the people in
| the neighborhood, he said, especially those
| families that had entertained poor children
from the city, had determined to raise
| fund to bring number of them and their
mothers to spend couple of days at
thanksgiving in the country, and as the
| projectors of the plan were all in moderate
| circumstances, they thought that perhaps
MIR. Dwight would be willing to contribute
| something to their project.
|
his whole face shone with pleasure.
why" said he, ''this is what call
| special Providence! / was thinking of those
children and of Thanksgiving just as you
came up. Of course l will contribute.
| How much do you want"'
"Well," answered the neighbor, some
what surprised at his readiness, ''we
| thought of inviting twenty-five or thirty in
| all, and if you will let us have that many
dollars we shall feel that you have nobly
| done your share"
"Nobly done MY share?" repeated Mr..
| Dwight, meditatiyely, and was silent for
| few moments. Then he added: ''Mr.
| Brown, am not heathen, though perhaps
| you have all Thought me one. / wish you
| had said something about this charity to
me before. Invite as many children as you
please-ffty-a hundred, don't care, and
| Pll pay all expenses"
"Y ou are kindness and generosity itself,
Mr.. DwightW exclaimed the astonished
Mr.. Brown. But" he added, ''we could
not find accommodation for more than the
number 1 have named"
''Send them to the hotel.' interrupted
Mr.. Dwight, ''and-Brown-I will take-a
| dozen myself; there, now!'
"You! Mr.. Dwight? Why, 1 never
| thought you''
"You never thought Benjamin Dwight
| had heart, did you? Well, don't blame
| you. He hasn't known much about it him.
! self for a good many years; but Mr..
| Brown, | have been reading about that
| Fresh Air. charity, and it has made me
hunt around little within myself, and 1
| believe | have heart somewhere. At any
| rate, will do what | say. You arrange
| about the children dozen remember,
! and if one or two more crowd in, | won't
| mind, only let me know few days before
| hand, and if those children don't have
rousing time, don't know myself, that's
| allD'
! And Mr.. Brown bowed himself away
with profuson of thanks, leaving Mr..
| Dwight as excited and happy as boy. All
day he could think of nothing else, and
when he lay down to sleep his mind was
still busy with projects of the entertain
ment of his expected guests.
This benevolent state was new expert
ence for Benjamin Dwight. He had never
been called close man in money matters,
but he was known to be very prudent. If
money was wanted for any improvements in
! the little town he always gave literally, or
| if any charity was to be aided in the city,
| committees knew that they could depend
| upon him, but he gave decentralization
| his abundance, and without any feeling in
| the matter. He threw many a small coin,
| too, to street-sweepers and beggars, but it
| was as he would have cast bone to dog
| from his well-filled table; he never missed
| 1t, and passed on his way without a second
! look or thought about it; but if asked, he
| could not have recalled time when he had
| denied himself single qualification, or put
| himself to any special Inconvenience for an
others happiness or accommodation. Of
| the generosity which involves self-denial
and personal discomfort, or the charity
| which leads one to seek opportunities for its
| exercise, he knew nothing. He rode with
| the favored few on the crest of the waves,
without thought of the many who were
| struggling in the trough of the sea. His
solitary life and habits kept his neighbors
at distance, and prevented them from
| finding out what was really good and ami
| able in him, and perhaps no one but Sarah
Rounds knew just how amiable he was. His
winters were passed in the city, and at his
summer home a few friends occasionally,
from distance. made up the sum of his
social life. He kept up his pew in the one
church in the little town and attended the
services regularly, and this was about all the
town people ever saw of him; their surprise,
therefore, when they learned that he had
actually offered to entertain dozen poor
children can scarcely be imagined. Some
doubted if he would keep to his offer, and
many pitied the children, for Sarah's repu-
taton as shrew was widespread, and her
arbitrary control over everything about the
Dwight establishment was well known.
And in fact it was Sarah who just now
was the only obstacle to Mr.. Dwight's en-
tire satisfaction at what he had done. How
was he to tell her, and what would she say?
All the next day he pondered over this prob
lem until he felt ashamed of his weakness,
and resolved to end the matter without
more delay.
He was in his library, and ringing the
bell, he desired that Sarah be sent 10 him.
She came, and as Mr.. Dwight glanced at
| her, he noticed weary look in her eyes
which made him for the first time think
what solitary life she had led ever since
he had known her. He had intended to be
very decided, but this thought gave to his
tone more than its usual kindness as he
| said:
sSit down, Sarah, want to talk to you.
| have decided to keep Thanksgiving this
year-to have sort of party, you know"
ga dinner, suppose you mean; Thanks
giving dinner?' she said, quietly, as she
| turned a bunch of keys in her had. "Well,
don't know as there's anything to hinder,
| only it does seem a mighty foolish waste of
money a-bringin' people all the way from
| New York just to give 'em what they get
| at home every day of their lives"
''But the people have invited are not
| that kind, Sarah, and expect them to stay
| two DAYS and nights at least"
'How many of them be there?" she asked
| in hard tone.
ga dozen, may be few more," answered