The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1883-09-08

1t was twelve of the midnight
and Rev. John Humphrey Dollar
wound up his watch with the odd re
flecGion that when he neXt looked at the
familiar dial for that purpose he should
be a millionaire. Certainly that, and
perhaps much more. The fortune his
dying kinsman had Just made over to
him by word Of mouth was known to
be vaster than its accumulation would
ever acknowledge. By what means and
for what purpose, he had amassed such
wealth none of his neighbors knew.
There was the fact, and it concerned
nobody now but his next of kin, Rev.
John Humphrey Dollar, who had been
summoned from his post as schoolmas-
ter a hundred miles off to receive the
miser's millions by verbal testament
before proper qualified witnesses. Ill
ness had stricken down the hale sexa-
genarian in the midst of his money
getting, and, strange to say, he had as
yet made no will But there lived one
of his blood and name-a clergyman, a
sufficient guarantee that the church and
charities would have their due; man
OF learning and parts, moreover, OF
austereness in daily life, sound political
principles and accustomed to work for
daily bread. A CLEAN of comfort was
evidently impaired to the dying man by
the thought that he had such an heir.
He was past expressing these thoughts
now. All that he had to do was to meet
his end as became a good churchman
and bequeather of millions. Doubt
less it had comforted him to think that
the world would talk of his wealth
when he was gone and that, whatever
became of it, the church and the poor
would not be forgotten.
And all that Rev. John Humphrey
Dollar had to do was to prepare his
mind for the extraordinary change of
fortune in store for him. Sorrow for
his kinsman's death he could not pos
sibly feel, nor need affect The pair
had hardly shaken hands half dozen
times in life, and were, indeed, all but
strangers to each other. The utmost
decorum eXacted was as much show of
dismay as if he should see some
stranger drop down dead in the public
ways.
So he sat alone awaiting his millions.
A bright fire burned on the hearth, for
it was winter, and under ordinary cir
cumstances he would have drowsed, in
his soft easy chair after the long rail
way journey, made third-class. Wine
stood on the table, but he left it I'M
touched. Time enough and to spare
for epicureanism! He must think. 1t
was only natural under the circum-
stances that his thoughts should be of
the earth, earthly. He was a good
man, according to his lights, upright,
rigid in the performance Of his duty. an
aims giver, and had been in times past
an excellent son and brother. On the
small stipend he received as headmaster
OF poorly endowed grammar-school,
he had for many years supported an
aged mother and a paralyzed sister,
possessing also an invariable sixpence
to bestow upon a pitiful case. But the
whole concern was a shabby one. The
enforced shabbiness of his life had ever
been thorn in the flesh. 1t perpet,l-
ally CALLED him to feel himself i'll
dressed, meanly housed, straitened in
circumstances, and for these paltry
reasons degraded to a lower social
sphere than that to which he was born.
A gentleman, the son of u gentleman,
possessed certainly of more culture
than most of his neighbors, yet, be-
cause he was poor and shabby. the
world, that is to say, the world he cared
about, ignored him. Sighted he had
not been, simply taken no more notice
OF than if he did not exist. For fifteen
years he had been living in populous
town, large proportion of the inhabit-
ants belonging to his own status, but he
was as completely a stranger to the
population of that pleasant Watering
place as when he first began his honest
career there.
He need not, of course, have led an
isolated life for all that. He might
have found friends and acquaintance
IN other circles; it never entered his
head to descend a rung of the social
ladder. He gave his hand courteously
alike to his apothecary and his washer
woman. He would no more have
dreamed Of visiting on equal terms at
the house of the one than of the other.
After all, perhaps, he hardly blamed
Others for such forlornness. The world s
standards were very much after the
pattern of his own. He felt bitterly
now that unless it We're so he should
regard this sudden accession to wealth
with other eyes.
Were he magnanimous, lofty-souled,
heroic, he should be building up a very
different future now. He had all along
resented his pitiful fortunes from d
worldling's standpoint; what wonder
that his first exaltation should have
something mundane about it, too? He
meant to do good, great good, with his
money, but mans impulse in such q
crisis must be to think of himself. The
first thought to strike him was that he
should be on much better terms with
that poor self of his now. Hitherto he
had not enjoyed self-content. His un.
prosperous appearance and humiliating
circumstances had soured him. HI