In his own way--and a quaint, singular way it was--Mr. Longworth was exceedingly charitable. Long after he was worth millions, and when every moment of his time was valuable, he was supernumerary township trustee. This was an office which required the expenditure of a considerable portion of his time, and brought him in constant contact with some of the most wretched of the lowest class of the poor. He was always in his office, at stated times, and with a patience and kindness worthy of all admiration, the millionaire listened to their sad tales, and provided such aid as was necessary, oftentimes giving it out of his own purse when the public funds failed. He was a bitter foe to vagabondage and mendicity. If people in need were willing to work, he would place them in the way of doing so. He was the owner of a stone quarry on Deer Creek, the traces of which may still be seen in the lines of the new Gilbert Avenue; and he kept in his office a supply of picks and shovels. When a stout beggar asked him for alms, he would inquire if he was willing to go to work. If answered affirmatively, he would give him a pick and shovel, and start him for the quarry, where the wages were promptly paid out every night. Many availed themselves of the opportunity, and worked for him faithfully; but others gave the quarry "a wide berth," and sold the pick and shovel for money or liquor. It was his custom to buy large quantities of bread tickets from the bakers, and to distribute them to those whom he considered worthy; and he would also keep on hand large quantities of shoes, dry goods, etc., which he gave away in the same manner. Mr. Frank Pentland, who was once in his employ, relates the following incident: "One morning, just after Mr. Longworth had gone to his office, near the Third-Street entrance, where he was accustomed to receive applicants for charity, he was accosted by a man who craved assistance. In answer to a question as to his needs, he replied that his main want was a pair of shoes, and a glance at his feet showed that he spoke truthfully. Mr. Longworth appeared 'to take his measure' at a glance, and impulsively shaking his right foot (he seldom wore his shoes tied), kicked the shoe over to the applicant, saying: "'Try that on, my man. How does it fit?' "'Illigant, yer honor,' "'Well, try that, now,' said he, kicking off the other. 'How will they do?' "Illigant, yer honor; illigant! May many a blessing'-- "'Well, well, go now--that'll do,' and turning to Pentland, who was then a young boy in his service, ordered him to the house to get another pair. Frank obeyed, but was told by Mrs. Longworth that those he wore away from the house were all that he had. The result was that Frank was hurried off to William Hart's shoe store, on Fifth Street, for new ones, with instructions to 'Ask Mr. Hart for the kind I always buy, and don't pay over a dollar and a half for them.'"