Year: 1877

was press day; 1 was very busy in my sanctum, when I heard the door open and a curious shuffling noise followed, which made me look up for a moment from my paper. It was but for mo- ment; 1 saw. as I supposed, crippled beggar, shufling his way on his knees with my hand" Nothing for you," I said, resolutely, little impatiently prs sibly, and turned back to my desk, caught up the broken thread, and wound of the completed sentence from the edi- torial distaff But the beggar was not repelled. He answered something; with divided attention I could not make out what. Nothing for you," repeat ed, somewhat more vigorously than be- fore. The answer was plain enough this time; and in tone that commanded at- tention-"I am no beggar, sir"

 I had gotten to the end of my sen tence now. Two or three weeks ago l had been studying the parable of the good Samaritan. Perhaps the recollec- tion of two very pious men who were in so great hurry to get to the temple that they could not attend to the unfor- tunate, may have had some influence on me. I laid down my pen and went to the unknown

 He was on hls knees his legs from his knees to his feet were useless appendages, which dragged after him and produced the shuffling sound which first attracted my attention. His whole body was dis jointed; his arms alternately hung down like the wooden arms of great toy, and moved about in grotesque attempt at gesture-like the toy arms when the inn age is pulled by the string from below. When he spoke he wormed and twisted his face with the vigor of his endeavor, as though the words were stored below and could be brought up out of a reluc- tant throat only by wrestling and in- vincible will. But his eye was clear, his brow high, and his whole face, when in repose, not unhandsome.

 "I have got something to sell, sir, and it is no humbug, either"

 Then I noticed for the first time leathern bag slung over his shoulder. With a curious spasmodic twist he dove into it and brought out tin box labeled Prof ---'s soap; warranted to take out grease spots," etc., etc. In this as in every motion, his arms, and hands, and fingers, made wild attempts before they succeeded in their purpose, like those of two or three months old babe that had not yet come into possession of itself.

 "What brought you into this condi- tion, my friend?" said I, looking down upon him.

 yoo bnrr q or;n,-a cir lao o,,a,,o~ol But" he added, quickly, as though he saw some sympathy in my face and would refuse it, "you must not think that l suffer, for I don't. I have no pain; it is only weakness weakness of the spine, the doctors tell me, so that don't have good use of my arms, or legs, or face. But don't suffer. And am not unhappy"

 could hardly look in his face when he was speaking, his endeavors were so dis. tressingly labored rarely give to beg gars; for that very reason l am always reluctant to turn away any one, from the gamin who is sweeping the street cross ings up who is endeavoring to cam an honest living. bought his patent soap and gave him the price-a quarter. He turned to go away; should have as soon thought of offering charity to any other independent merchant ss to him, but stopped him with a question. It needed but very little touch of sympathy to open his heart He told me his story

 transcribe 1t here as we'll as l can, but

 am painfully aware that it loses char acteT in the transcribing;

 My father was mechanic. I was always, from my birth, as you see me now. He supported me till 1 was twen- weight, But Ididn't like it. Iwanted to be seli.supporting."

 noted curious feature of his lan- gtiage. It was that of one born in the lower ranks, but selfeducated by courses of reading outside the literature of his companions. l thought thisat the time ; It was confirmed by suggestive hint afterward.

 told my father. He laughed at me.

 What can you do?' said he. told him that he could not always support me he must die some day, and he had no money.

 The Lord will provide said he. But that did not suit me. l resolved if could not have my own way I would run away"

 There was something pathetically hu- morous in this picture of a man-boy of twenty-eight running away on hls knees from tyrannical father who despotically insisted on providing for him. Whether T q