THE BEGGAR'S OPERA-TION

The ingenuity of the professional begvar oftentimes rises to the dignity of positive genius. No matter where his ot be cast, whether it be beneath the lime of sunny Italy, or within the connes of New-York, or in any place in ur own Dominion, his activity submits

no reduction in scope, and he carries

utthe system of pillage which he has

inaugurated, without fear and without re.

proach, thereby equalling, in some res.

pects, at least, the chivalrous greatness

of the mighty Bayard of happy memory.

lt is not my intention however, to enlarge upon the functions ofthe beggar—T do not

mean the pauper, for that very ordinary l

personage is only the bewgar in reducelh © circumstances, and in consequence is al ?

, x ti

very cheap specimen of the tribe, and * m

perhaps, not worth the mentioning in the

same breath with his more picturesqu and better-circumstanced chief — but | have an incident to relate which will servi to exhibit after a fashion, the wonderfilk resources of the mendicant when reall} put to his wits’ end to devise a system swindle with which to impose on th

benevolent and charitable, A friend t

mine—a young clergyman — who af graduating with high honours, passt

thout re

ome resgr eatness memory.

to enlarge 1] do not . ordinar) n reducel uence 18 1 tribe, and ning in the picturesqui ief — but h will serve

e wonder

hen real |

a system jose Où th A friend

who af

Durs, pass

the first few years of his ministry as a missionary among the poor in the town— atthat time parish—of Portland, Saint- John, New-Brunswick. Inthis capacity he had abundant means of witnessing many pitiful scenes of real distress, and to come into contact with several cases of gross imposture and cheatery. Being naturally of a tender heart, and as sensitive as a woman, his nature was one which might easily be played upon, and it is not too much to say that very often the generous-spirited young clergyman became

the dupe of the shrewd thieves who thrived

Bpretty succesfully on his bounty. The

incident which he related to me, several years ago, will illustrate in a practical manner, one ofthe keenest ways of ‘‘raising the wind,” perhaps ever devised by human kind before. The story is at least Ma good one, and shorn of its meaner ele-

ms AO —

ment, there is something left which may

perhaps, be laughed at, even if the whole | | thing be very justly condemned, and the

fraud practised be duly execrated. My friend tells the tale as follows : d

À woman clad in tie habiliments and * trappings of woe, sad in countenance Li and mien, and leaden-éyed, and with © babe of tender age at her breast, sougft 5

aid for a dying husband, and a helpless family of little ones. The young clergy-

man, deeply touched by her sorrowfil

story, did what he could to assist her, ani

she went away murmuring thanks and

benediction. In a day or two afterward

she returned to the hospitable door ant

sought andobtained further relief. A weel

passed away, when one day, my trient Mr. C his library by an urgent visitor: It provelk

, Was hastily summoned int

ich may 1e: whole and the ed. My

ents and antenance nd witha st, sought a helpless ng clergy-

sorrowfil ist her, an

anks and

afterward A door an

ef, À weel

my trient oned in

Mr. C

;: It provt

to be the same woman that he had re-

lieved on two occasions in the manner related. She told a harrowing story. Her husband, she sobbed, was dead. He had died that morning, and she and her family

were left destitute and alone in the world.

| They had nothing to eat, they must go to

the Poor House, and the husband would have to be buried in the pauper’s lot.

, heard her story, gave her a

little moneÿ, spoke some kindly words of comfort, and promising to call round at her home in the afternoon, he sent her on her way. After dinner he proceeded to the house of death. Knocking softly at the door, he was ushered in by a little girl He found the widow and children bathed in tears. In a dark and further corner of the room was a long

in tatters.

pine table, on which the body of the hus-

and gloom and despondency settled them:

band and father lay, washed, and dressed and ready to be laid in his coffin. The eyes were apparently closed in that sleep

JC ported by a band fastened on the top off th de

which knows no awaking. Coppers were laid over the lids, and the chin was sup:

the head. The iands and arms lay straight and stiff by the side. Every feature 0

the face wore the placid look of death:

selves over the little room. It was a sai

sight this picture of Death in such à

place, and the young man could no hold back the burning tears which fille his eyes and coursed down his cheek:

He extended his hands to the widow. H!

spoke comforting and sympathetic wordiéro

into her ears. He tried to soothe thé s

aching heart, and he kissed the smilin@Th baby in her arms, and patted the curlforf

d dressed, fin. The that sleep

pers were

1 WAS SUP the top 0 ay straight feature 0!

of death:

ttled them:

t was a sal in such could n0 hich fillei his cheek widow. Hi hetic word soothe th the smilin!

j the cuil

heads of the two little girls who sobbed at their father's side as if their very hearts would break. After offering up a prayer in which the mother and the children joined, Mr. C

promising to look in, in the morning ; and

rose to take his leave,

then giving the widow enough money to

defray the burial expenses of her husband, he bade the tearful and narrowed circle adieu, and started for his home with a bleeding heart. He had not proceeded far along the street, when he be-thought himself of something which he had wished to bay to the woman, and which, in his excitement, he had forgotten. He retraced his steps, and stealing softly up the narow stairs, he gently opened the door.

À strange mocking sight met his view.

here, bolt upright on the table, sat the

orpse, busily counting the money the

clergyman had left for his own funeral ex.

penses, while bending over him stood the ‘wife, an interested spectator of the scene, holding a tallow candle in her hand. The two children were playing with the baby on the floor. Mr. C

affrighted gaze of the corpse and the

’s eyes met the

equally guilt, wife. He said nothing, but hastily closing the door, fled away from the iniquitous den of deceit. The story tells its own moral.