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Although the nominal guardian of the poor of the town, which implied some benevolence of feeling, he really "cared not for the poor," except in so far as he carried "the bag" by which they, in being supported, supported him. As with every other individual who, at any given time, had been put in charge of the paupers, it was for the sake of making money he kept them a single day. Boasting of his benevolence, and of a merciful and humane treatment of his poor dependents, the treatment after all was such as the weight of "the bag" demonstrated expedient. Of course!

The Captain farmed a good many acres, heavily under mortgage; and as far as they were able, sometimes exceeding their ability, he compelled the paupers to lend him their assistance. He held this to be a proof of his humanity and benevolence, inasmuch as they being somewhat in years; somewhat stiff and cold; somewhat decrepid; the blood sluggish and low, with little ambition or motive to execution, they were greatly inclined to inaction, and to a dull, monotonous, sleepy sort of life, the indulgence of which was bad -- very; productive of distempers, fevers, agues, and that sort. He would frequently, therefore, counsel them to "stir" themselves, to "take the air," to "shake off melancholy," and "drowsiness," and "gloomy recollections" of the past.

"It is better for you," said he, "better for you 'by half,' to be busy at some close, steady employment, from morning till night, than to sit here moping."

With this merciful and humane view of his duty, Captain Bunce "stirred" up the poor-house community every day with directions to do this and that job of work, to hire which done would have been expensive, and altogether useless with so much unemployed material on hand -- his good intentions sometimes failing, it is true, and the benefit coming short, as the individuals in question, and that not unfrequently, were found more feeble in body than the given employment contemplated, per-adventure actually on the sick list, a bed. But sickness and disappointment are human inconveniences.

This mercy in the direction the Captain gave it, filled a very large field -- an almost boundless one. It contributed very much, in his opinion, to realize a joyful reunion of both ends of the financial year, and thus secure to the paupers themselves the continuous advantages of his roomy and desirable quarters for their home. We ought not to forget it, and will say while it is in mind, that Captain Bunce was by his works a religious man. He attended church, rented a good slip, and when any of the paupers died he sent word religiously and promptly to the minister to lose no time in attending the funeral obsequies. Perhaps there was not one man in the town who entertained a more vivid conception of -- his own personal integrity, independence, morality, mercy, humanity, diligence, thrift, popularity with all classes of citizens, and reverence for religion than Captain Bunce.

But standards of personal excellence are seldom lived up to, and still more rare is it that we see them exceeded. This was the case with the Captain. He formed, notwithstanding every good thing about him, no exception to the rule -- certainly he did no more than equal his. Disguise the matter as he would in his own eye, to others it was palpable that he wore a rum face, managed his affairs loosely, blustered and stewed and swaggered, instead of diligently and successfully minding his proper business, while his humanity and mercy, as well as all the moral qualities of which he boasted a large surplus, were in reality satellites of his extreme selfishness. A very great and wide difference of opinion this, from that which he entertained, and teaching all of us not to think more highly of ourselves than we ought!

However, Captain Bunce had a great many mouths to feed; and this was a trial of his disposition -- of his moral qualities not only, but of his calculations -- his mental qualities. He seemed to have imposed on him directly, a double share of trial, and this required in him all the virtues that, in a hasty enumeration of personal qualities, he accorded to himself.

Annually on the town books of Crampton -- a town of three or four thousand persons -- there was a good average of fifteen paupers. This number, in full, now looked up to Captain Bunce every day of their successive three hundred and sixty-five, for all they had!

In the Bunce family proper, beside the Captain, there was Mrs. Bunce. She was a stout, healthy woman, and the mother of four living children grown up, viz.: Dick and Elisha, Betsey and Henrietta; and beside these, there was a hired man and a servant girl. These were the mouths to feed daily, and the Captain was put hard up to meet the demand; but his heart did not fail him at all as long as brandy and water could be had, and six or seven hundred dollars a year for the paupers found their way to his pockets.

And yet, sublunary calculations and sublunary possessions are closely allied to sublunary disappointments; and the Captain himself could not escape the operation of their causes and effects. The town paupers were beginning to slip through his fingers, and his farm and all that he possessed through his hands. For Mrs. Bunce, though a stout, healthy woman in the common use of language, was rather a red-faced woman, and fond of cider, ale, wine, and all the minor beverages proper for a woman to be fond of; and the two Bunce boys, Dick and Elisha, had a fondness for brandy and cigars; and Dick, the elder, had a cough similar to one that carried off his elder brother Hallowell. Betsey Bunce was a coarse sort of a girl, strong for service -- a stout, noisy, bold girl, engaged to marry Sam Durkee, the butcher. Henrietta, the youngest child, was now seventeen -- a sweet-tempered, pale, good girl, gentle and kind, but unfortunately, nearly blind. When ten years of age, she lost an eye by the carelessness of her brother Elisha, then twelve years old. The boy held in his hand a large bow and arrow, and was showing Hetty his skill in shooting. At length, pointing his arrow in mere play at his sister, with the bow drawn tightly up, by accident the arrow escaped, and struck the right eye of the poor child, and destroyed it. The nerve of the other was so much affected through sympathy, that she was nearly blind ever after. She could, however, read a little, sew a little, knit, and do errands and light work about house. But Hetty was a child of misfortune; and it seemed as if her days would be few on earth, and that she would always be a source of anxiety, trouble, and expense to her parents -- one, indeed, on whom they could place no reliance for help in the times of their own distress. Parents often say of lame Willie and blind Hetty, "we can't expect from them any help or comfort: alas! what a misfortune to us and them." This is, fortunately, a great mistake. Lame Willie and blind Hetty often are lamed and blinded by Heaven for us.