The Seattle post-intelligencer. [volume] (Seattle, Wash. Terr. [Wash.]) 1888-1914, 1892-06-26

shaH oilct y week at HFSt, ne unfortunately
possessing strong natural distaste for all
alcoholic liquors which it would be neces-
sary Tor him to overcome. As ne got more
used TO them he would do better
over the disagreeable old man, my
cousin also had trouble. 1t was hard to
mt the right degree of disagreeabieness.
some OF them were so very unpleasant.
he eventually made choice of decayed
cabdriver with advanced radical opinions,
who insisted on three years contract.
Tine plan worked exceedingly well, and
does SO, my cousin tells me, to, this day.
The drunken father has completely con-
quered his dislike to strong drink He has
not been sober for over three weeks, and
has lately taken to knocking his wife
about The disagreeable fellow is most
conscientious in fulfilling his part of the
bargain, and makes himself perfect curse
TO the whole village. The others have
dropped into their respective positions,
and are working we'll. The lady visits
them all every afternoon, and is most
Charitable. They call her Lady Bountiful
and everybody biesses her. 1t is generally
felt throughout the parish that if she does
not go TO heaven, then 1t will be because
heaven doesn't know its own business"
Brown rose as he finished speaking and
mixed himself glass of whisky and water
with the self-satished air of benevolent
man about to reward somebody for having
done good deed; and MacShaugnassy
lifted up his voice and talked.
Il know story bearing on the subject,
too, !" he said, "but mine is not so serious
as yours. 1t happened in tiny York
shire vIiiage-a peaceful, respectable spot.
where folks found life bit slow. One
day, however, new curate arrived, and
that woke things up considerably. He
was nice young man, and, having large
private income of his own, was altogether
most desirable catch. Every unmarried
female in the place went for him with one
accord.
But ordinarily feminine Establishments
appeared to have no effect upon him. He
was seriousiy -inclined young man. and
once, in the course of a casual converse
ton upon the subject of love, he was heard
to say that he himself should never be at
tracted by mere beauty and charm. What
would appeal 10 him, he said, would be
woman's goodness-her charity and kind
Hness TO the poor.
We'll, that set the petticoats all think
ing. They saw that in studying fashion
plates and practicing expressions they
had been going upon the wrong tack. The
card for them to play was the poor.
"But here serious difficulty arose.
There was only one poor person in the
whole parish. cantankerous old fellow
who lived III a tumble-down cottage at the
back of the church, and fifteen able-bodied
women eleven girls. three old maids and
widow wanted to be good to HIM.
Miss Smmonds, one of the old maids,
got hold of him first, and commenced feed
ing him twice q day with beef tea and
then the widow boarded him with port
wine and oysters. Later III the week 9TH
ers of the party dritted in upon him and
wanted TO cram him with jelly and chick
ems.
The old man couldn't understand it.
He was accustomed to a small sack of
les 4 id ixya
long lecture on his sins, and an occasional
bottle of dandellon tea. This sudden squirt
on the part of Providence puzzled him.
He said nothing however, but continued
to take in as much of everything as he
could hold. AT the end of a month he
was too fat to get through his own back
door.
"The competition among the women
folk grew keener every day, and at last
the old man began to give himself airs,
and to make the place hard for them. He
made them clean his cottage out and cook
his meals, and when he was tired of having
them about the house, he set them to work
in the garden.
They grumbled a good deal, and there
was talk at one time of sort of a strike,
but what could they do2 He was the only
pauper tor miles round, and knew it. He
had the monopoly, and, like all monopo-
lists. he abused his position shamefully.
he lldue LUeIn run eTTdlus. he SeuI
them out to buy his baccy,' at their own
expense. On one occasion he sent Miss
Simmonds out with a jug to get his sup
per beer. She Indignantly refused at first,
but he told her that if she gave him any
of her stuck-up airs out she would go, and
never come into his house again. Ii she
wouldn't do it there were plenty of others
who would. She knew it and went.
They had been in the habit of reading
to him-good books with an elevating
tendency. But now he put his foot down
upon that sort of thing He said he didn't
want Sunday school rubbish at his time
Of life. What he liked was something
spicy. And he made them read him
French novels and seafaring tales, con-
tanning realistic language. And they
didn't have to skip anything either, or
he'd know the reason why.
He said he liked music, so few of
them dubbed together and bought him a
harmonium. Their idea was that they
would sing hymns and play high-class
melodies. but it wasn't his. His idea was
Keeping Up the Old Girls Birthday
and She Winked the Other Eye with
chorus and cellar-tiap dance, and that's
what they sang.
ITO what lengths his tyranny would
have gone it is difficult to say, had not an
event happened that brought his power to
a premature collapse. This was the cur
| ates sudden and somewhat unexpected
marriage with a very beautiful burlesque
actress who had lately been performing in
a neighboring town. He gave up the
| church on his engagement, in consequence
of his iiancee's objections to becoming a
minister's wife. She said she could never
tumble to the district visiting
With the curate's wedding, the old
pauper's brief career of prosperity ended.
They packed HIM off to the work house
after that, and made him break stones"
AT the end of the telling of his tale. Mac
Shaugnassy lifted his feet Oft the mantel-
piece. and set 10 work TO wake up his legs;
and Jephson took a hand and began to
spin US stories.
But none of us felt inclined to laugh at
Jephson's stories, for they dealt not with
the goodness of the rich to the poor, which
is virtue yielding quick and highly salts
factory returns, but with the goodness of
the poor TO the poor, a somewhat less re-
munerate investment and a different mat
ter altogether.
I For the poor themselyes-not the noisy
professional poor | do not mean, but the
silent, fighting poOr-one is bound To feel
with Charles Kingsley a genuine respect
One honors them. as one hOnors wounded
lean Old soldier
In the perpetual warfare between hui
mainly and nature, the poor stand always
IN the van. They die in the ditches and
We march over Their bodies with the flags
flying and the drums playing.
can never think OF them myself with
/ out an uncomfortable feeling that | ought
/ II be little bit ashamed OF living in
security and ease. leaving them 10 take all
the hard blows. II Is as if one were always
skulkln2 in the tents, while ones comrades
we're lighting and dying In the front.
They bleed and tall III silence there
As4fFF ars-fF "a r1rr