Middletown transcript., 1883-02-02

When he quit he was sorry all over,
and more particularly across the small
of his back. 1t is well, perhaps, that
he did not persist in his undertaking,
for if he had cut down the hickory-tree
with that hatchet his fathermight never
have forgiven him.
Thomas was studious and industri-
GUS boy. Every Sabbath he trudged
off to Sunday school, or every Sunday
he trudged off to Sabbath school-just
as you prefer to have it, and brought
home pretty little book with pretty
little moral story in it, just like this, or
perhaps more so. Sometimes it would
be story about wicked boy who
climbed areighbor' 'sapple-tree and went
out on decayed limb and fell to the
ground, bringing the limb with him and
breaking several of his legs; while
good, moral little boy who had remon-
strated with the unfortunate lad for his
wickedness, went to school day after
day with a little girl in long curls and
scalloped pantalets, who lived in the
house where the apple-tree grew, and
gave him all the apples he wanted, and
finally, when he had got old enough,
married him and helped him be great
and good man as long as he lived.
Thomas was deeply impressed with
these stories, and he said he would be a
good boy, too. His father was deli
cate man. He could not work after
breakfast. He had weak back, which
was hereditary in his family. Through
the winter he sat by the grocery fire
and told the assembled citizens what he
would do next summer, and in the
summer he reclined in the shade and
discussed his plans for the next winter.
Thomas was the support of his par
ents, as we have already told you.
Now that he had lost his situation, he
was sad indeed. There seemed to be
something wrong about the thing. He
had been discharged for telling the
truth. It had never turned out that |
way in the books. When he related to
his father the circumstances of his dis
missal, his father was thoughtful for
moment, and then he said, sadly but |
kindly:
81 perceive that you think it is
wicked to lie, Thomas. Ifear that you
will never he good for anything, unless
it is to edit newspaper"
CHAPTER III.
Thomas Goodurchin had hardly left
the store of Barton Skinfint, when a
gentleman entered and walked to the
grocery counter. William Brown stood
there ready to serve customers. He
was a youth of about the same age of
Thomas. He stood with his back
against sugar barrel, and while he
kept one eye fixed upon Skinfint, he
slyly and frequently slipped lump of |
"cut loaf'' into his wealth of mouth.
William was cross-eyed, and therefore
he had no difficulty in looking at Skin
flint and in several other directions all
at the same time. The man who had
approached William, said:
e Show me some good coffee"
William dipped under the counter,
and holding forth scoopful of coffee,
said in business-like way:
"Twenty-five cents, sir.'
81 want something a little better
than that. if you please"
William dipped again under the
counter into the same bin and bringing
out his scoop second time, said
"Thirty cents, sir.''
81 prefer Java, if you have it, " said
the customer, and William dipped for,
the third time into the same coffee-bin,
and holding forth his scoop, modestly
said:
"There is a prime article, sir, at
fifty cents a pound. How much shall
1 put up for you ?''
The customer said he would take five
pounds. This was a good deal, for the
coffee had only cost fourteen cents at
wholesale.
When the customer had gone, Skin
flint called William to him, and Will
liam came timidly forward. There
was a smile upon the austere mer-
chants countenance "a full-width
smile. His brow was not so much cor
rugated as it had previously been. He
placed his hand upon William Browns
head and said:
William, you have done pretty well
but you ought to have asked that man
sixty-fve cents for that coffee the last
time. 1t was evident that he desired
to think he was buying a very fine az
ticle. You should always endeavor to
please a customer. But you are coming
along well, William, and after this week
your wages will be increased to S1.25
week. That will do, William"
And William went back to the loaf
sugar barrel feeling happy in the con-
sciousness that his talents were being
appreciated.
CHAPTER ".
Twenty years have passed away.
Twenty long, weary years. Twenty
crops of comic almanacs have come and
gone, and all with the same jokes.
Barton Skinfint is no more. He has
been laid to rest. He died worth $780,
900, and the local paper filed three
columns with his obituary, and re-
ferred to him editorially as ere
spected, honored and enterprising citi-
zen, with a heart abounding in char
liable impulses and hand ever ready
to stretch forth to relieve the poor"
And Thomas, our hero, the good and
truthful Thomas Goodurchin, what of
him ? Is he happy Has he prospered
= iAO1.