The Knickerbocker, Vol. 10, No. 6, December 1837Various
History
The Knickerbocker, Vol. 10, No. 6, December 1837
Various
Periodicals
Late in the evening, an old Quaker gentleman, who accidentally heard
the 'poor relation's' story, while passing the door of one of the
Worthingtons, offered him a lodging and supper. He went with the
benevolent old gentleman; and on the following morning he again
wandered forth, to renew his calls of the day before. It was observed
that he was very particular not to neglect to call upon every _son_
of the deceased Mr. Worthington. He expended several days in this
way, but every where there appeared the same undisguised dread of a
'poor relation.'
At length, he sought the magnificent dwelling of the Honorable
Benjamin Worthington, which was situated about two miles from
the main settlement of the village of Weckford. It stood upon a
commanding eminence, which overlooked the village, and was justly
regarded as one of the most delightful rural retreats that the
country could boast. After going through the usual ceremonies of
the door, he was introduced to the business-office of the 'Oaklands
Mansion.' Presently, the Hon. Mr. Worthington appeared. The stranger
repeated his solicitation for relief, and his claim as a relation;
but here, too, he met nothing but coldness and neglect.
'Then,' said the stranger, 'if you will not relieve the wants of your
most unfortunate cousin, perhaps I can tell you something that will
move your pity. You had a brother Thomas, who, many long years ago,
most mysteriously disappeared?'
'Yes,' said the honorable gentleman; 'but he is no doubt dead, long
and long ago.'
'He is NOT dead!' said the stranger, 'but after an age of misery and
misfortunes, he has returned in poverty and in rags; and now solicits
you to clothe and feed him.'
'Impossible!' exclaimed the Honorable Mr. Worthington.
'Here is a mark upon my arm, received by a burn, when a child, which
proves the truth of what I say,' said the long-lost son.
Horror seemed to convulse the frame of the lord of the Oaklands.
'Take this note,' said he; 'go to the Swan Hotel, a small tavern
directly upon the road, about two miles beyond this, and I will come
to you with some clothes, and money to provide you a passage over the
seas.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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