The record-union., 1898-01-03
WHY

He was only twenty-three, and yet
there he lay in one of the narrow aims
house cots in ward of the almshouse
hospital and he was dying.
1t was the dear, old chaplain who
told us of him and the pitiful, horrible
story of his ruined life.
His name-well, / have forgotten the
false one, and the real l will not tell
it might be recognized by New
Yorker
We always called him Max, and that
was right as far as it went.
He was the only son of wealthy
father, who let the boy have his own
way unchecked so long that when at
twenty-one he gained his legal free
| dom and the full control of $4,000
there was no power of love or authority
or respect to hold him, and boy as he
was he began course of the widest,
most reckless, debauchery, going from
bad to worse until he broke his moth
er's heart, his sisters never spoke of
him, and his father disowned him, and
then at last, with love and home and
health and money all gone, came a
complete physical breakdown six
months in a charity hospital, where in
the end they pronounced him incur
able and packed him off to the aims
house to die.
! He was a handsome young reprobate,
| too, with curling black hair and a pair
of bright dark eyes that looked pre-
| ternaturally big and black shining out
of the thin, pale face
| He was finely educated and a good
! taIker when he chose, speaking in a
/ deep, soft voice with a plaintive ring
in it which was peculiarly attractive
to strangers. For it was impossible te
know Max for a day and not hate him
The fellow was born cad and sneak
He got a. fellow pauper punished and
an orderly dismissed before it was dis
| covered that there was no believing a
| word he said, for he was the most ac-
! complished and thorough liar that
| ever knew.
He complained of us-we did a little
missionary work in the wards-to the
doctors and nurses, of the doctors te
us, and of the nurses, bed and food te
| everyone who would listen
We hated him and kept away from
him, until suddenly the chaplain died.
Now, honestly believe that he, too
had disliked and distrusted Max as
much as his gentle, loving heart was
capable of disliking anyone, but never,
theless he had watched him, helped
him, done for him, carefully, tenderly
to the very last, and when we heard
that the dear old man could do no more
it seemed to us two girls that he ha6
left this half done task to us, and WE
must help Max on through the bit OF
Erf1 I,
fully as we could.
And so, the day after the chaplain's
| funeral, began the most trying month
| I ever spent.
| We both went to see him every day
he flirted with us collectively so out
rageously that neither cared to go alone
and we took turns in bringing him
dainties, and after a time in feeding
| them to him, too for he soon lost the
use of his hands. At first we thought
this merely a trick, but the doctor soor
| said no, and thereafter it was no un-
common sight to see one Of us seated
on tilty wooden stool beside the bed
| spooning our best beef tea or chicken
broth down his throat, while the other
| stood by with relay of crackers, and
he lay there snirking up at us. and
boasting between gulps of his family
his education, his talent, even Of his
misdoings, complaining all the time Oh
| the taste and temperament of the souI
and trying to f1irt with both or either.
Sometimes flirting Is pleasant-often.
er annoying or embarrassfng-but now
it was simply disgusting, and many
time We could have kicked him with
hearty good will. But we didn't. In.
| stead, we got hold of an old spirit lamI
and imported it to the ward, and spen
a good deal of valuable time in tryins
to get his daily broth to just the proper
state of heat
We read to him, we did errands fo1
him, we listened to complaints from
him and everyone who came near hin
convert him? Oh, no, we didn't try
We didn't go into the wards for that
only to make folks happy and comfort.
able, and, besides, he wouldn't have
| converted, for he did not regret one day
or one dollar that was ..one-he sale
so more than once
But the new chaplain tried, and az
a class was to be confirmed soon. he
said he would be, too, and as he coul6
not to go to church there was a very i'm.
/
eryona said how lovely and touching i,
was, and the tears rolled down Max's
cheeks in the most orthodox way, anC
then when they had all gone he nearly
died from laughing at it all, and hi
off the Bishops voice and the chap
lain's lisp in a way that nearly drew q
smile from us, indignant and Disguised
| as we We're
think it was to celebrate this event
that he asked for a dinner He sale
he was tired of "slops" and he wanted
| a good course dinner once again will
soup and oysters and roast, lots o1
vegetables wine and black coffee.
That was too much, and the unior
struck. IF you think" said I, "that
| we are going to turn ourselves into
| walters or lunch carts for you you are
very much mistaken" and we depart.
ed in wrath
1T was after that that we went tt
his father. We felt that the expense
as well as the responsibility, was a lit
tie too much, and we needed help.
So we mustered courage to invade
certain bank, and as we entered the
luxurious office where the father sal
we thought of the dingy, barren warG
| where the son was lying.
| I suppose the mans heart was touch
ed. I hope So He gave us 50 bill
from a roll of fives and tens, and sai6
may be he would come over. Then We
| went away and bought a new spiri
! lamp with the money. The next weeI
he asked us to his house to meet hi.
| daughters The mother was dead-o
! g. broken heart they told u.s. and amons
| them all, / believe it. Well, the girl.