The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1885-07-29

into his kindly young face. Those
tenants are poor, helpless woman and
her sick son, whom misfortune, not
idleness or extravaganza, have made
unable to meet their last quarters rent.
If they go out from this, all the home
they have, there is not roof but that
of the poor-house to shelter them, while
the shock and exposure will be pretty
sure to kill the sick boy outright
The carpenter turned to his EN-
ployer with flushed and indignant
face: Is this true, Mr.. Healey-that
you wanted me for such dirty piece
of work as this?'
g Instead of replying to his question,
the old man turned upon me like
tiger: Deacon Lowe. I'll thank you to
mind your own business, and I'll at
tend to mine. This isn't the first time
you've .meddled with my affairs, and if
you do it again it will be at your own
risk, for l warn you / won't stand it,
Then, turning to the carpenter, he
growled, savagely:
"' Come along, you fool Don't
stand gaping here any longer
But the young fellow stood his
ground manfully:
GO tell you, Mr.. Healey, once for
all, l won't put my hand to a job like
that if 1 go hungry for the want of it,
And gathering up his tools he walked
away, paying no manner of heed to the
angry mans oaths and threats.
"'Then I'll do the job myselfl' he
growled, at last, and started off, still
at his heels, for l couldn't leave the
poor woman unprotected, and / had
half hope even then that his hard heart
would relent at sight of the poor peo-
ple's helplessness and misery. But /
hadn't counted on the hardening power
that avarice has over the human heart,
and when found that all my expostu-
lations and the tears and entreaties of
the half-distracted woman made not
the least impression upon him, was
forced to employ the only argument to
which he would listen, i'll as 1 could af-
ford it.
Will you take my note for the
amount?' 1 asked.
He grinned triumphantly.
OF course, deacon, of course: your
L. o. U. is as good as any mans in
town, If you are fool
eve went to his office, and / gave
him my note for the amount due on the
poor woman's rent. But all that win
ter mother and I went without sugar
in our tea, and l wore my old overcoat,
that was so shabby that it was hardly
decent.
Gone day i met old Healey on the
street, and he eyed me from head to
foot with meaning smile; then touch
ing with one long, lean forefnger the
frayed edges of my coat, he chuckled,
mockingly:
"' No doubt virtue is it's own reward,
eh, deacon? But it won't buy decent
clothes for man, after ALL
=" | didn't answer him word. If /
had, l should have said something that
l must have been sorry for afterwards,
so l said nothing. Well, the years
slipped by, and we both grew grayer,
and he at least richer with every twelve
month that passed over his head. He
grew feeble, and bent, too, for even
wealth cannot secure youth and health
to its possessor, and one day was not
surprised to hear, on the street, that
the old man was very low-not expected
to live through the night, people said.
Il remember well what a cold, blus-
tering night it was, too, and how, when
the bell rang, at midnight, dreaded to
get out of my warm bed to answer the
call
1t was messenger from the dying
millionaire, who had been sent, post
haste, to summon me to his bedside.
"'I wouldn't have disturbed you,
deacon, at this time o. night the man
said, apologetically, but the doctor
says the old gentleman won't last till
morning, and he was so set upon seeing
you before he died that we couldn't
refuse him.
g AS l hastily prepared to accompany
this midnight messenger, l wondered
what could be the dying mans object
in sending for me at such time. And,
almost insensibly, the hope crept into
my heart that, standing face to face
with death, the heart that for years
had been growing hard as the neither
milestone, might be melted into some
thing like repentance and remOrse for
all the sorrows that his selfish policy
had brought upon his fellow-creatures
during all these long, busy, grasping
years.
y recalled how, more than thirty
years before, he had taken from my
hard-earned daily wages the amount
due for the rent of the poor sailors
wife, and thought vaguely of the posi-
bility of his desiring to make some
restitution at this late hour. When l
went into his room he was propped up
in bed with pillows, white and wan,
and breathing with the greatest diff
Guilty. But his eye was clear and
shrewd as ever, and when he saw me
something like a smile of satisfaction
crossed his CHASTITY face, and he feebly
beckoned me to come closer to his bed
side. AS obeyed, he asked, with an
energy wonderful to see in one so low
&C. Deacon, II sent for you toto
ask where your brother Cyrus is now
50 Was the poor creature out of his
head? Why, he knew, as well as l, that
Cyrus moved out West all of twenty
years before, but / repeated the fact,
naming the place where he was at that
time living. He nodded his satisfaction,
and then went on, in his hoarse, broken
voice, to tell about an agreement that
they had made together, when they
were young men, in regard to leaving
off smoking-the one who first broke
the contract being obliged to pay the
other ten dollars. 1t seems that, few
| weeks afterwards Mr.. Healey detected