Martinsburg independent. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1875-1900, 1884-07-05
Bread Upon the Water.

kind words and kind acts never dien
s'Ah, Jacob, now you see how all
your hopes are gone. Here we are,
worn out with age-all our children
removed from us by the hand of
death, and ere long we must be the
inmates Of the poor-house. Where,
now, is all the bread you have cast
upon the waters ?n
The old. white-haired man looked
up at his wife. He was, indeed, bent
down with years, and age set trem-
blingly upon him. Jacob Manfred
had been a comparatively wealthy
man, and while fortune smiled upon
him, he had ever been among the
first to lend listening ear and
helping hand to the call of distress.
But now misfortune was his. OF his
four boys not one was left. Sick
ness and failing strength found him
with but little, and they left him
penniless. An oppressive embargo
upon the shipping business had been
the first weight upon his head, and
other misfortunes came in painful
succession. Jacob and his wife were
all alone, and gaunt poverty looked
them coldly in the face.
"Don't repine, Susan" said the
old man. "True, we are poor, but
we are not yet forsaken."
mot forsaken, Jacob :? Who is
there to help us now ?"
Jacob raised his trembling finger
toward heaven.
"Ah, Jacob, l know God is our
friend; but we should have friends
here. Look back and sec how many
you have befriended in days long
past. You cast your bread upon the
waters with a friend by hand, but it
has not yet returned to you.
Hush, Susan, you forget what
you say. To be sure / may have
hoped that some kind hand of earth
would lift me from the cold depths
of utter want; but do not expecti it
as reward for anything 1 may have
done. If have helped the misfor-
tunate in days gone by, 1 have had
my full reward in knowing that l
have done my duty to my fellows.
O, of all the kind deeds 1 have done
to my suffering fellows, / would
not for gold have one OF them blot
ted out of my memory. Ah,my fond
wife, It's the memory of the good
done in life that makes old age hap
py. Even now, 1 can hear again the
warm thanks of those whom have
befriended, and again [ can see their
smiles" NcYf h46. uaont aaw.
"Yes, Jacob" returned the wife,
in lower tone, 81 know you have
been good, and in your memory you.
can be happy; but, alas ! there is a
present upon which we must look,
there is a reality upon which we
must dwell. We must beg for food,
or starye !" IN
The old man started, and "a deep
mark of pain was drawn across his
features. So &#
"Beg I" he replied with q quick
shudder. "No, Susan are"
He hesitated, and Dig tear rolled
down his furrowed cheek.
1--WE are what, Jacob?"
eve are going to the poor house!n
20, God ! / thought so |" fell from
his poor wife's lips, as she covered
her face with her hand. 1 have
thought SO, and l have tried to bear
the thought, but my poor heart will
not bear it !"
"Do not give up, Susan" softly
urged the old man, laying his hand
upon her arm. "It makes but little
difference to us now. We have not
long to remain on earth, and let us
not wear our last days out in repin-
ing Come, Gomez
"But when-when shall we go 90
"Now-to- day."
s'Then God have mercy on us ~
she WILL" murmured Jacob.
That old couple sat for while in
silence, When they were aroused
from their painful thoughts it was
by the stopping of a wagon in front
of the door. A man entered the
room where they sat. He was the
keeper of the poor-house.
Come, Mr.. Manfred, he said,
''the selectmen have managed to
ornur1 xro., ,nt<< 49, $780,. l. =