The Worcester spy. [volume] (Worcester, Mass.) 1898-1904, 1899-08-27
The Kindly Charity
of the Late Rev.
Denis Scannell.
HOW HE TRIED TO CONCEAL IT.
The Beneficiary Was the
Last to Leave His
Grave.

Pensioners Of the late Rev. Denis
Scannell, who was buried last Wednes-
day morning, are telling some rare
stories of his kindness. No names can
be mentioned, but one story is well
worthy of place in The Spy.
1t had come to his attention that a
certain worthy. family through sickness
had been reduced to the direst straits
with little to eat and no fuel to make a
fire, though it was in the depth of win
ter. ..l
Father Scanneu called at their house
one morning. To throw the woman off
her guard and avert embarrassment he
said that he simply called as a part of
his duty of making the rounds of the
parish.
Without any intimation of his purpose
in asking the questions, the woman an
| swered him freely, all the while trying
to make him believe that although con-
ditions We're not as she could wish them
to be. still the family was getting along
and Keeping the wolf at a respectable
distance, even if, occasionally, his head
was within sight.
Remarking that he had heard that
friend of his wished to buy the property
the priest requested the woman to show
him over it a little. He was particular
in regard to seeing the cellar. Some
| thing like a tear, as the woman after
| ward said, in telling the story, came
into Father Scannells eyes. There was
| not stick of wood or a lump of coal
in the place. 1t was as barren as the
| desert of Cobb.
| He said nothing but, bidding her
| goodby, left the house.
| Within an hour two teams, one with
a ton of coal, the other with a supply
of wood stopped at the door. The
| woman looked about her bleak, bare
rooms and then out into the streets
crusted with snow. She shivered as the
| wind ratified the panes in her windows
| and sent a chill through her frame as
penetrating as that of the mistral that
sweeps down from the Alps toward the
| Mediterranean.
"Ah," she said, chow 1 wish that l
was as fortunate as my neighbor that
is going to get that coal and wood"
| The cry of one of the children in the
next room, cry born perhaps of the
! gnawing of hunger, sent a pang to her
| heart, and she burst into tears.
A knock at the door recalled her to a
sense of her surroundings, and drying
| her eyes, she opened the door.
Are you Mrs. So-and-so?" asked
| two men in a breath whom she reCog-
nized as the drivers of the coal and
wood team.
She tried to persuade them that there
was some mistake. She had ordered
| neither wood nor coal
That's all right, my good woman, "
| said the coal man. I'VE were told to de-
liver these loads to you, and we are
going to; so stop your talk and show
! US the cellar"
When the coal and wood was safely
| stored away, one of the men handed
| her a sealed envelope. She opened it.
| 1t was a receipted bill for the fuel.
| Neatly folded inside was a five-dollar
bill.
In happier years she had read of the
| raven feeding the holy man in the
| desert, and for moment believed that
the age of miracles was undergoing a
renaissance.
That the good angel was Father
Scannell, however, flashed across her
mind as she knelt in prayer, returning
thanksgiving for her good fortune.
Every day that the body lay in state
! at st. Anne's Church there were no
more heartfelt prayers uttered than
those that fell from her lips. She was
one of the last, too, to leave the grave
when the mortal part of the noble
priest was laid at rest.