Rensselaer Republican, Volume 19, Number 24, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 17 February 1887 — The Honest Man. [ARTICLE]

The Honest Man.

I once knew an honest man; this is no fable. I knew him; he iran honest. He was poor, of course. Not that all poor men are honest; I have known some wretchedly poor men who were dishonest and-.-very mean. Neither would I have you understand me to say that all rich men are dishonest. Some, you know, have inherited their fortunes. • - This honest man lived in a small frame cottagellTaiPunfreijueuted street, and re gularly on the first Monday of every month for years he settled with his landlord for the rental due. His name was on the tax duplicate, but the figures that told of his personal property were small, and twice in each year Be borrowed at least half the money with which he paid his taxes. T never knew him t<> give a wine supper, and the wealthiest banker in the city had ten friends to his one. Very few, indeed, of the distinguished visitors to his city were introduced to him, and most of them left the place knowing nothing of him—only as a unit which, added to many other units, made up the sum total which the oensns-taker returned. Now and then the poor itinerant minister stopped with him, preferring his frugal board to the paying of a bill at the hotel. He was hard of hearing, but he occupied a pew near the back part of the elniifch, for the ones in front were needed for the rich members of the congregation- The band never serenaded him, yet he never refused to help those poorer than himself-,- - even though the beggar be a poor—a very poor—musician. By and by, when he was old and full of years, he sickened. His next-door n< ighbor brought him dainty food to tempt his appetite, and the physician made but one hasty call a day, so he lasted several weeks. But finally he died. The easket in which his body was placed was a very plain one, and the attendants at.his funeral were very, very few. Many'had intended to be present at his funeral, but somehow they were so very busy when the time came that they could not get away; yet one week later, to thejvery day, when the gilded coffin that hem a wealthy man’s remains entered the same gate, to the same burial-ground, it was followed by carriages in which rode all those very busy men. A few years passed away. I visited that burial-ground. I looked in among the lofty monuments for the name of this departed honest man, but I found it not. I asked the sexton if he could point me to the grave, but he had forgotten where it was. could only find it by looking up the; record, and Ijhd no time for that unless it was a matter,of importance. But I fount! if bv-and-by. Here, in this piece of hallowed ground, dedicated to the dead of men but to the living God, I found the grave of this departed honest man, still in the rear, while the wealthy occupied the front. No shaft or slab of marble, chiseled in his praise, told who it wais that slept beneath the mound, upon which was planted a dainty flower, cared for by poor but honest hands and watered by the tears of honest love. All others had forgotten him but she who knew him best, and thought him, great and good because of honesty. This, ail this, in a community that talks of honest men. — Chicago Ledger.