There came very near being a little misunderstanding between the House of the Foreign Missions and the House of the Tract Society, in reference to the matter of burying Mrs. Swiggs. The Secretary of the Tract Society, notwithstanding he had strong leanings to the South, and would not for the world do aught to offend the dignity of the "peculiar inst.i.tution," did not see his way so clearly in the matter of contributing to the burial expenses of the sister who had so long labored in the cause of their tracts. However, the case was a peculiar one, and called for peculiar generosity; hence, after consulting "The Board," the matter was compromised by the "Tract Society" paying a third of the amount.
If you would have strong arguments in favor of reform in the Points just look in at the House of the Nine Nations. There you will find Mr. Krone and his satellites making politicians, and deluging your alms-houses and graveyards with his victims, while he himself is one of the happiest fellows in the world. And after you have feasted your eyes on his den, then come out and pay your homage to the man who, like a fearless Hercules, has sacrificed his own comfort, and gone n.o.bly to work to drag up this terrible heathen world at your own door. Give him of your good gifts, whisper an encouraging word in his ear (he has multiplied the joys of the saved inebriate), and bid him G.o.d-speed in his labor of love.
A word in reference to the young theologian. He continues his visits to the old jail, and has rendered solace to many a drooping heart.
But he is come a serious obstacle to Mr. Sheriff Hardscrabble, who, having an eye to profit, regards a "slim goal" in anything but a favorable light.
Old Spunyarn has made a voyage to the Mediterranean, and returned with a bag full of oranges for Tom Swiggs; but now that he sees him in possession of such a fine craft as Maria, he proposes that she have the oranges, while his hearty good wishes can just as well be expressed over a b.u.mper of wine. He hopes Tom may always have sunshine, a gentle breeze, and a smooth sea. Farther, he pledges that he will hereafter keep clear of the "land-sharks," nor ever again give the fellow with the face like a s.n.a.t.c.h-block a chance to run him aboard the "Brig Standfast."
As for Mr. Detective Fitzgerald, he still pursues his profession, and is one of the kindest and most efficient officers of his corps.
And now, ere we close our remarks, and let the curtain fall, we must say a word of Tom and Maria. Tom, then, is one of the happiest fellows of the lot. He occupies a nice little villa on the banks of the "mill-dam." And here his friends, who having found wings and returned with his fortunes, look in now and then, rather envy the air of comfort that reigns in his domicil, and are surprised to find Maria really so beautiful. Tom so far gained the confidence of his employer, that he is now a partner in the concern; and, we venture to say, will never forfeit his trust. About Maria there is an air of self-command-a calmness and intelligence of manner, and a truthfulness in her devotion to Tom, that we can only designate with the word "n.o.bleness." And, too, there is a sweetness and earnestness in her face that seems to bespeak the true woman, while leaving nothing that can add to the happiness of him she now looks up to and calls her deliverer.
THE END.