"He won't work; that's the character I have received of him," replied Mr. Jonas, whose mind was very much roused against the man. The pendulum of his impulses had swung, from a light touch, to the other extreme. "A dollar earned, is worth two received in charity," said Mr. Prescott; "because the dollar earned corresponds to service rendered, and the man feels that it is his own--that he has an undoubted right to its possession. It elevates his moral character, inspires self-respect, and prompts to new efforts. Mere alms-giving is demoralizing for the opposite reason. It blunts the moral feelings, lowers the self-respect, and fosters inactivity and idleness, opening the way for vice to come in and sweep away all the foundations of integrity. Now, true charity to the poor is for us to help them to help themselves. Since you left me a short time ago, I have been thinking, rather hastily, over the matter; and the fact of hearing about the place for an able-bodied man, as I just mentioned, has led me to call around and suggest your making interest therefor in behalf of Gardiner. Helping him in this way will be true benevolence." "It's no use," replied Mr. Jonas, in a positive tone of voice. "He's an idle good-for-nothing fellow, and I'll have nothing to do with him." Mr. Prescott urged the matter no farther, for he saw that to do so would be useless. On his way home, on leaving his store, he called to see Gardiner. He found, in two small, meagerly furnished rooms, a man, his wife, and three children. Everything about them indicated extreme poverty; and, worse than this, lack of cleanliness and industry. The woman and children had a look of health, but the man was evidently the subject of some wasting disease. His form was light, his face thin and rather pale, and his languid eyes deeply sunken. He was very far from being the able-bodied man Mr. Prescott had expected to find. As the latter stepped into the miserable room where they were gathered, the light of expectation, mingled with the shadows of mute suffering, came into their countenances. Mr. Prescott was a close observer, and saw, at a glance, the assumed sympathy-exciting face of the mendicant in each. "You look rather poor here," said he, as he took a chair, which the woman dusted with her dirty apron before handing it to him. "Indeed, sir, and we are miserably off," replied the woman, in a half whining tone. "John, there, hasn't done a stroke of work now for three months; and--" "Why not!" interrupted Mr. Prescott. "My health is very poor," said the man. "I suffer much from pain in my side and back, and am so weak most of the time, that I can hardly creep about." "That is bad, certainly," replied Mr. Prescott, "very bad." And as he spoke, he turned his eyes to the woman's face, and then scanned the children very closely. "Is that boy of yours doing anything?" he inquired. "No, sir," replied the mother. "He's too young to be of any account."