The Brookhaven leader. [volume] (Brookhaven, Miss.) 1883-1891, 1883-06-21
TIE DEACON's REWARD.

"Josiah," said Mrs. Middleton,
"you win certainly end your days in
the poorhouse!
The Deacon was reading his paper,
quite unconscious, in his furry and
haste, that he had got it upside down.
Mrs. Middleton, tall, gaunt woman
of sixty, who, by all outward indica-
tions, ought certainly to have been an
old maid, was viewing him severely
through her spectacles.
"Ihope not, my dear" said the
Deacon. 81 hope not. What should
put such an unpleasant idea as that
into your head?"
Don't be hypocrite, Deaconm
said Mrs. Middleton, severely.
"A hypocrite, Elizap"
"Yes, hypocrite!" 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 drinkr'
Eat and drink, eh?'' satirically re-
peated Mrs. Middleton. "What did
you give him to drink. I'd like to
knowp''
"Only bowl of cold coffee, my
DEAR" said the Deacon, deprecatingly.
And that red comforter he had
,.onnd b;c nonL o.,
Really, my DEAR" stammered the
detected culprit, Latter the nice new
muller which Miss Mitchell gave me
for Christmas, did not need the old
red comforter. And the poor wretch
was blue with coldr'
blue, indeedr shrilly echoed Mrs
Middleton. Il wish he'd been black
and purple, and all sorts of colors, be-
fore he had ever come here! But it
don't make any difference who it is, or
what ridiculous trumped-up story he
tells-anything will take 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. GAN the coun-
try knows it! There isn't beggar nor
a tramp but knows he is sure of a sup
per and shilling, if he comes here and
gets your earl
My dear, we are told in the Good
Book"
1--WE are told in the Good Book"
angrily interrupted Mrs. Middleton.
THAT charity begins at home. Or if
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. don't believe
our barn would ever have burned up if
it hadn't been for his old pipe the night
he slept there"
1t 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 a new violin
when his got cracked by the frost-and
served him right! vow and declare,
Deacon, I've no patience with you! You
are running us! Yes, ruining"
Deacon Middleton shifted uneasily in
his chair, and grew very red, If that
Aantippe spouse of his had only known
OF the coins slipped at odd times into
the old fiddler's horny hand; the cold
meat and mugs of cider surreptitiously
sent into the barn for Lame Peters
benefit; the ten-dollar bill at Christmas
to help buy him warm coat! If
this! said Mrs. Middleton, excitedly.
I" We he'd 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 seer'
VERY 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.
"Yes, my dear," said the Deacon.
Haven't you anything to say for
yourselfp" cried Mrs. Middleton.
What should I say, my dearP'
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.
g It's true enough" said he to HIM
self, as he laid the newspaper on the
table and let his spectacles fall slowly
into their case. 1--WE are ruined, al
though poor Eliza didn't realize 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 improyident, but somehow
everything has gone wrong. There
was last summers dry spell. and then
that sickness among the cattle, and the
fall of prices in grain, and the loss of
twenty tons of hay in the barn that
burned up-nothing but 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