Rensselaer Republican, Volume 14, Number 18, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 19 January 1882 — TWENTY POUNDS STERLING. [ARTICLE]

TWENTY POUNDS STERLING.

There never was such a man to bet as Staining. He was always so sure hewas. right. Our mutual frit nd Marxwell ought to have sailed for Brazil, but I felt confident I had seen him in the street, but Staining said it was nonsense, and he bet me £2O to Is I was wrong. He had hardly finishedspeaking when Marxwell came in. Staining pulled out of his pocket a £2O note and handed it to me. “There you are, old fellow. A fool and his money,’ etc. Another illustration of that wise adage.” “Not exactly; for you don’t expect I shall take your money?” ,qYes I do; and shall be extremly annoyed if you refuse.” I protested, but presently he said, in considerable irritation: “Then be my almoner, and give the money away in charity.” He left presently, and as there are objections to standing in the public highways with a bank note in your hand and a puzzled expression in your face, the note was transferred to my pocket, and I went my way wondering, /when I was met full "tilt by a clergyman whom I knew. “Hulloa!” he cried. “Mr. Smith, you and I seem to have our minds so much occupied that we cannot take care of our bodies. “No grave matter of mine,” I said; “but you look sad. Nothing wrong with you and yours?” “No thank you; but I have just left a depressing scene. A young couple, married in haste, have come to grief. The wife and child are ill. Relatives and friends have receded into the remote background. And worse than all the husband—”

“Has become intemperate or has gone mad.” “Neither one nor the other.” “Something worse?” “Yes; for to be dishonest is worse than going mad. And it is such a mere trifle that is needed, apparently, to put all straight, that I groan at my inability to And it.” ‘.What’s wanted? ••Well, it’s only £20.” “There’s the money you require. Haste away, and do all the good you can with it” My friend looked astonished. He even hesitated a moment. “It is very good of you,” he said, nervously, “but really ” “I have the power to give this away. Good by.’, And I hurried off. Then I hastened back to him. “May I request that you will on ho account mention my name?” “As you wish it, I won’t but you should know the object of your bountry.” And he told me. Then we parted. I had only gone a dozen yards when there passed me a young man with a flushed face and a frightened, anxious look in his eyes. He caught un to my friend and spoke to him. 'That is the man, I said to myself, whose proceedings have been dubious, and who will, I trust, be rescue! by Staining’s 7 £2O. Well, if the wheel should turn, and this poor man should ever be in a position to deliver a fellow creature from such trouble as he himself is now ia, by the surrender of £2O, I wonder if he’ll do it? Smith, you surely know human nature well enough *to answer your own foolish question. Not he—not a bit of it. This incident was soon swept from my mind by a sudden call to go abroad even to the place where Marxwell did not go—Brazil. Nothing happened to me then! I was a yosng bachelor and could start for the antipodes at two days’ notice. When I take my wife and children—l forget the number—in our autumnal trip, in these later years in my life, I require weeks’ preparation.

Away, then, to Brazil; away to new life, new companions, new hopes and ■fears; away to fortune and the yellow fever! Here occurs in my tale an interval of twenty years (my story deals in twenties). I doubt whether I should have come back had not a young English lady one night sung in my hearing an old home ballad,so well remembered in connection with some loved ones who in this world will sing no more, that a craving for my native lamb mastered me kt once, and in a very short time I was on my return home. , On the way I had one night a frightful dream. I fended a terrible enemy had me down and clutched m£ throat. Tighter grew his grasp add, fainter my breath. My staring eyes fanned every feature df my murderer. Slowly and nainftilly did I call to mind the race above me. It was Staining—but he was reckless, desperate. I gasped an entreaty for mercy. \ “Give it to me; I want it; I must have it instantly— instantly!” was the hoar* reply. “ Wbat—what can he mean ?” X “What!” he shrieked, in maniacal fkenzy. “MyX2O.

, I had quite forgotten about the bet and the £2O; but the dream set me thinkirig of what rumors I had heard respecting Staining since I left England—tha* his money had wasted, that he had fallen in position and even into poverty. “Poor fellow,” I thought, “there may be something in that dream. If his pride will accept it he shall have that money back, and very glad 1 shall be to restore it.” Back in Ehgland, settled down in the old country. Main matters disposed of, I began to think of minor ones, and among the latter the discovery of Staining. He was not in the former haunts, and I failed so long to find him that I was beginning to despair, when one night I met him in the street. The brilliant light of a ball-room may"increase the luster of a woman’s eyes, but if you want to see a brokendown man in his worst aspect, survey him standing disconsolately under a street lamp, a drizzling rain descending upon him,and he with folded arms g resenting a picture of mute despairr o did 1 behold Staining. I put my hand upon his shoulder. He sprang from me as though I were a wild beast. “I did not want to run away,” he said hoarsely; “they knew that. Go on; I’ll walk quietly enough. Why—what- can it be —” “Yes, it is Smith, your old companion. Come out of this and confide in me. If you are in trouble and money can help you, you shall not want.” And I took his arm ana we went together. And then I heard poor Staining’s confession, and it amounted to this. When He had wasted his! money, he obtained a situation in al merchant’s office./ The pay was sufficient to keep Juny/out even now nothing could re'strain him from betting on horse-rac-ing. As a consequence he was soon penniless, and worse—disnonest. He had paid a betting debt out of a £2O note which had ben entrusted to him. Discovery had ensued, and though the luckless man had explained that it was only through a failure of another member of the virtuous fraternity £re> could not replace the money at once, he bad reason to suppose he would be prosecuted.

“Many, many thanks,” replied the poor fellow to my offer. “You can see the firm in the morning: but j doubt whether they will take the money. I believe they are bent on my ruin.” Early next morning I was at the office of Baydon, Blendon & Co., and, having stated my errand, I proffered my £2O. - 5 Mr. Baydon was a sleek old gentleman. There was an air of wealth and ease all over him. He bbwed complacently, and said: “I can appreciate your kindness to this poof man,and Imyself would pass the matter over at once, but my partner takes a different yiew, and I cannot interfere.” “Can I see Mrl Blendon?” “Yes, if you will call again in two hours.” tn the cab I kept muttering to myself: “Bjlendon, and Robert Blendon, too? liam sure of it. Still, if it be so it is very strange. I think I should know that face again. We shall see who will be master.” Back to Messrs. Blendon, Baydon & Co.’s office, and then in the presence of Mr. Blendon. All my anxiety for my poor friend faded away. I was master of the situation. I stated my desire to pay the amount of Staining’s defalcation, and my hope that under the extenuating circumstances no publicity would be given to the miserable wrong-doing. Mr. Blendon heard me with some impatience, and before replying drew a cneck to “self or bearer” for £IOO. Having given this to the clerk, he said tome:

‘ You will excuse my answering ' somewhat shortly. It cannot be. It is not the money we care about, but we must vindicate the law,” I declare I was pleased at the grandiose style of his speech. How beautifully he was walking into my net! I suggested that in a case like this there was no imperative call to such a course, and that forbearance might be shown. . i “Ido not see,” answered Mr. Blendon. “You do not appear, sir, to observe the, immense importance of punishing a delinquency of this kind. I cannot take your money. If I were to let this man off, I would be ashamed of myself. I have just overcome some foolish hesitation of mypartner. lam always firm myself.” (Not always, Mr. Blendon—nor when I last saw you. But wait a bit. A little further into my net, please.) “And, therefore, however sorry I may be, sir, I must say\ no. If I were myself to commit an act of this kind, and—” ’ Why did he stop? I bowed quietly, and rising said:

“You are quite right, Mr. Blendon, for dishonesty is a terrible thing, and while not for a moment pressing my request, I know you will forgive my calling to remembrance a curious case knownfto myself. Some twenty years ago a poor young couple, not long married, had fallen into poverty. The wife and infant were ill; the husband was distracted; he must get money. When his young wife and infant child were almost starving what was to be done? The money was obtained —Mr. Blendon, you know how. But in what way was it repaid before mischief came, and how was the husband saved froth ruin and degration—saved to become a rich and respected merchant? Whose money saved him? That you do not know, but I will tell you. The S2O note which rescued the husband rested only ten minutes j before in the pocket of this very Staining whom you are about to prosecute. Then Staining was as rich as you are now; but he was a kind, Christian man. Mr. Blendon, I have a right to ask you to what character do you lay claim?” I have Often thought since what admirable advantages are a clear head and calm temper. I’d worked myself up to a white heat. It was only when he first saw my drift that my listener manifested any emotion. Then he rose from his chair with flushed face, but he resumed his seat, and by the time I had finished he was almost as calm as when I entered. There was a slight pause, and then he said: “You have acquired some knowledge of an incident in my life which lam not called upon to discuss. Is this knowledge confined to yourself?” “I believe it to be confined to myself and my informant, and I have no de-1 sire it should be otherwise.”

Mr, Blendon bowed. ‘ / “I will not conceal that I shall »e glad if this goes no further, and on taat footing I will say that your friefid shall be freely absolved, and I will even aid him if I can. You must Excuse my taking your £2O. I am obliged to you for coming. Good-morning.]’ I felt as I left him that the enemy had well covered his retreat, and had not left mb a morsel of triumph more than he could help. But my ©Meet Was accomplished, and I hastened to meet Staining. He was not at the appointed place, so I went to his lodgings. The landlady told me he had come in early and gone to his room—not well, she thought. She and I went up together and knocked more than once. Then I went in. Poor Staining lay up on the bed—dead. His enfeebled frame had not been able to endure the recent wear and tear, and he was now beyond the reach of his follies and his troubles. ~