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Mrs. Haddock told the ladies that if they were willing to devote any time to relieve the wants of the poor by sewing, she should be happy to unite with them, and would invite them to her house. Several professed a willingness to do so. But Miss Flush thought the ladies had better finish the missionary box first, and in this opinion some others warmly coincided. Mrs. Shire, a little aside, declared that as for the old paupers, they were a miserable, swearing, drinking set any way, and she had seen enough of them. Many of the ladies, however, promised immediately to send Mrs. Haddock parcels of second-hand clothing for them, and this promise was not entirely broken. She was able to make several of the poor creatures far more comfortable than they had been, through the liberality of her friends.

But Mrs. Haddock was not permitted to have the whole ground to herself. By-and-bye in came Mr. Ben. Stout himself, first selectman of Crampton, overseer of the poor, etc., etc. Of course Mr. Stout knew every thing that any body else did about the paupers, and a little more -- certainly much more than any lady of the town could be supposed to.

Rev. Mr. Rodman appealed to Mr. Stout in behalf of the poor, and asked if something more could not be done for them.

"As for that matter," said he in reply, "there is a great deal of what we may call mawkish sympathy expressed in behalf of these paupers. Now we must admit that they are human beings. This is an evident truth. Secondly: They are poor and miserable. No one can deny this. Thirdly: They have made themselves so -- almost equally a self-evident truth. Fourthly: They need help. Now, in my opinion, these are the important points in their history, and cover the whole ground. Out of this summary grows the following idea, viz., 'It's the duty of the town to support the paupers.' We come, then, to view the matter from this very clear point, and we see that what is the duty of the town, is not the duty of the individual. So, as an individual, I feel no responsibility in this case. As a member of the community, I give my vote to lay a tax sufficient to answer all the reasonable charges of this unfriended class of persons, and commit the keeping of them, for a valuable consideration, to A, B, or C, as the case may be. If, then, I have done my duty as a man of the community, what further call can there in reason be made on me, eh?"

"Ah -- well -- er --" said the minister, being a little befogged.

"Yes, you see it's just here. They are hopelessly poor, and want boosting all the time. Now we can't be always running after them. They are done with. Society can't expect any thing further from them. And all we can do, you know, Mrs, Haddock, it's about so, after all -- all we can do, is to put them where they'll be, on the whole, in a comfortable sort of a condition; eh, say so?"

Mrs. Haddock couldn't bear that their clergyman should carry away just that impression of the paupers from so respectable a source likewise, and she answered Mr. Stout as a Christian woman should.

"But, my dear sir, these are our own fellow-beings. They are poor and dependent, I admit, and are, some of them, even vicious and ill-deserving; but ours is a duty not so easily surrendered to the town, as you seem to regard it. We certainly, as a town, are in duty bound to take care of them, and to show them such care as is worthy the name; but as individuals who receive daily mercies from God, and mercies we do not, nor can deserve, we are bound to reach out to them the helping-hand, and to make their path to the grave as comfortable as lies in our power."

Mr. Rodman assented to this. He now began to get the fog a little from his eyes, and his heart began to respond to the earnest pleadings of gospel mercy. But Esq. Stout maintained that we might feel too deeply, and do too much. "The fact is, Mrs. Haddock, where'll you stop? There must be some stopping-place, you know. , Now give old Tucker and Polly a new dress to-day, and they'll want another to-morrow. Give Jims a new suit this fall, and he must have another next spring. And so you go on: no stopping-place, you see, if you once begin."

"Then ought we to begin at all, Mr. Stout, if we can not pursue our intentions to the end? I do not see how the town may feel liberated from a full and proper care of the poor, if it assumes it at the first."

"It is something so," said the Squire. "And I -- am -- rather of the opinion -- that is -- I have been so -- that you will find, on inquiry, that our poor folks are, on the whole -- you understand, we must lump these things, you know -- about as well cared for as the poor ever are -- or can be. It costs the town seven hundred dollars to take care of them: that's a large sum in these days. And really, Mrs. Haddock, what do they want?"

This was said with such an earnest manner, and betrayed so true ignorance of their real condition, that she replied, directly --

"They want the very things the town pays for!"