"This sounds all very fair, Mr. Jonas; and yet, there is not so much true charity involved there as appears on the surface. It will avail little, however, for us to debate the matter now. Your time and mine are both of too much value during business hours for useless discussion. I cannot give, understandingly, in the present case, and so must disappoint your expectations in this quarter." "Good morning, then," said Mr. Jonas, bowing rather coldly. "Good morning," pleasantly responded Mr. Prescott, as his visitor turned and left his store. "All a mean excuse for not giving," said Mr. Jonas, to himself, as he walked rather hurriedly away. "I don't believe much in the benevolence of your men who are so particular about the whys and wherefores--so afraid to give a dollar to a poor, starving fellow creature, lest the act encourage vice or idleness." The next person upon whom Mr. Jonas called, happened to be very much of Mr. Prescott's way of thinking; and the next chanced to know something about the family for whom he was soliciting aid. "A lazy, vagabond set!" exclaimed the individual, when Mr. Jonas mentioned his errand, "who would rather want than work. They may starve before I give them a shilling." "Is this true?" asked Mr. Jonas, in surprise. "Certainly it is. I've had their case stated before. In fact, I went through the sleet and rain one bitter cold night to take them provisions, so strongly had my sympathies in regard to them been excited. Let them go to work." "But can the man get work?" inquired Mr. Jonas. "Other poor men, who have families dependent on them, can get work. Where there's a will there's a way. Downright laziness is the disease in this case, and the best cure for which is a little wholesome starvation. So, take my advice, and leave this excellent remedy to work out a cure." Mr. Jonas went back to his store in rather a vexed state of mind. All his fine feelings of benevolence were stifled. He was angry with the indigent family, and angry with himself for being "the fool to meddle with any business but his own." "Catch me on such an errand again," said he, indignantly. "I'll never seek to do a good turn again as long as I live." Just as he was saying this, his neighbor Prescott came into his store. "Where does the poor family live, of whom you were speaking to me?" he inquired. "O, don't ask me about them!" exclaimed Mr. Jonas. "I've just found them out. They're a lazy, vagabond set." "You are certain of that?" "Morally certain. Mr. Caddy says he knows them like a book, and they'd rather want than work. With him, I think a little wholesome starvation will do them good." Notwithstanding this rather discouraging testimony, Mr. Prescott made a memorandum of the street and number of the house in which the family lived, remarking as he did so: "I have just heard where the services of an able-bodied man are wanted. Perhaps Gardiner, as you call him, may be glad to obtain the situation."