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yZZZ' ) . AN INDEPENDENT FAMILY NEWSPAPER. IT
Vo1- IVew Uloomfiold, lii., June 28. 1870. Vo. 2G.
llonmfifltr (times.
JTs rubllslied V'ecJdy,
At New Bloom field, l'eim'a.
BY
FRANK MORTIMER.
SUBSCRIPTION TERMS.
ONE DOLL All rER YE All
iiv advaci:.
A QUAKER AND A ROBBER.
AN EXCELLENT STOllY.
T1M1E most honest of all Quakers, Toby
JL Simpton, lived in Lqiulon, in a pleas
ant littlo dwelling graced by tlio presence
ot las daughter Mary. She was not quite
seventeen years of age ; was charmingly
fair ; had blue eyes, and possessed as much
modesty as beauty. All the young men of
her father's acquaintance were her suitors ;
all those of the neighborhood sought to
gain her notice. Vain efforts ! Mary was
110 coquette, and instead of enjoying the
effect produced by her charms, she was vex
ed on account of the manners of all her ad
miners, except one Edward Weresford, s
young artist, admitted to tho intimacy of
the family.
A simple event had caused this friend
ship. A premature death had earned off
the Quaker's wife. She was young and
beautiful; and desiring to perpetuate the
image of her who was so dear to him, he
had caused the artist to come to the bed of
death. It was there that Edward saw the
desolate damsel ; it was there a serious first
love took place, amid the tears of one and
i .i
uiu pious worn oi uie ouier. l lie year
which elapsed after this epoch had but
strengthened the bond formed under these
auspices, and the young man had showed
to tho father both his desire and hope.
The excellent Toby had no reason what
ever, for opposing the mutual inclinations
of the two young persons. Without being
rich, Edward earned, by means of his pen
oil, what sufficed fo support a family hon
i orably. J lis father, Mr. Weresford, an old
merchant of the city, had retired from
business with a fortune Increased more than
ten fold. This was a rn re example of rapid
success in speculation so rapid indeed that
few were able to follow its progress. Yet
Weresford, of a blunt and stern disposi
tiou lived alone in a suburb of London, and
without caring what bis son was doing, left
him entirely at liberty. Ho was one of
those accommodating egotists who trouble
no one, provided they troublo not them
persons of perfect complaisance if you ask
nothing of them.
.toward, therefore, could without inter
ruption, court Uis pretty Quakeress, well
assured that his father would never think
of opposing his marriage. The situation of
tho loving couple was, to all appearance,
rery prosperous ; and honest Toby did not
put ofl the day of thoir marriage longe
than to collect tho arrearages of his rents
he destined tho money for the extraordinary
- ..e ...
expenses ui mo ceremony, f or tins pur
pose lie went to his country Beat, some miles
from London, in ordor to regulate his af
fairs. He had passed but one day from
home ; and as he was :bout to put up his
horse for the night, he perceived at some
distance a horseman, who barred the road
He stopped, uncertain whether to go on or
turn back. Meanwhile the, horseman ad
vanced towards mm. The Quaker could
not even think of escaping ; he therefor
put on a good face, and brought his horse
to a walk. In approaching the man who
caused his uneasinsss, he perceived that he
was masked, a grievous augury, which was
oon oonflrmed. The unknown showed
pistol and directed the muzzle to the trav
eller, demanding his purse. Tho Quaker
O r!'
did not want courage, but calm by charac
ter, inoffensive by religion, and even una
ble, without arms to resist an armed man,
he pulled from his pocket very coolly, a
purse containing twelve guineas. The rob
ber took it, counted tho pieces, and left the
poor man whom he had stopped, to pass on.
while he put his horse to the trot. But the
obbcr, seeing tho slight resistance he had
offered, and allured by the hope of a second
booty, immediately rejoined honest Toby,
placed himself anew in his way, cried,
Your Watch I"
The Quaker, surprised, was nevertheless
unmoved. He coolly took his watch from
lis fob, looked at the hour, and put the
costly article into the hand of the robber,
saying :
Now, I beseech theo, permit me to go
to my dwelling my daughter will be un
easy at my absence."
'A moment more," replied the masked
cavalier, tho more and more hardened by
this docility ; "swear to me that you have
no other sum "
"I never swear," said the Quaker.
"Very well. Affirm that you have no
other money, and on the faith of an honest
robber, incapable of taking by violence
from a man who yields with so good a
grace, I will let you continuo on your jour
ney." The Quaker reflected a moment and
shook his head.
What thinkest thou," he said gravely,
"thou hast discovered that I am a Quaker,
and will not betray tho truth, though at the
peril of my life. Thus I declare to thee
that I have under my saddle cloth a sum of
two hundred pounds sterling."
"Two hundred pounds sterling 1" cried
the robber, while his eyes sparkled through
his mask.
" But if thou art good as thou art kind,'
rcpneu uie uaKer, thou wilt leave me
this money. I wish to establish my dnugh-
ter, and this Bum is necessary ; for a long
time I shall not have a similar sum at my
disposal. The dear child loveth her intend
ed, and it will bo cruel to delay this union,
Thou hast loved, poradventure, and thou
wouldst not commit this wicked act."
1 What care I for your daughter, and her
lover and their marriage ? Less talk and
more promptitude of execution 1 I must
have this money."
Toby, with a sigh, lifted the cloth, took
a bag heavy enough, and passed it slowly
to the masked man. His intention then
was to gallop oft'.
"Stop again, friend Quaker," 6aid the
other laying his hand upon the bridle ; as
soon as you arrive, you will denounce me
to the magistrates. This is according to
order. 1 nave nothing to say ; but I must
have tho advance of the process of to-night,
at least. My mare is feeble, and is, be
sides, fatigued ; your horse, on the contra
ry, appears vigorous, for the weight of this
bag does not incommode him. Alight and
give me your beast ; you may take mine if
you will."
Ho was slow in beginning to comply, be
cause these cross exigencies were of a na
ture to raise tho choler of the most patient
man. 1 ho good Toby, however, descended,
and resignedly took the sorry jade which
was left him in exchange. " If I had only
known," he contented himself in thinking,
" I would have fled at tho first encounter
with this rogue, and certainly it is not with
this courser that he would have gained the
During this time the masked man ironi
cally thanking him for his complaisance,
applied both spurs and disappeared.
Before he readied London, Toby had time
to reflect on his misfortune, on the chagrin
of the two young persons who loved, and
whose happiness would be put off. The
sum taken from him was irrevocably lost.
Not the least of it could be regained, nor
could the audacious robber be recognized.
Meanwhilo as a sudden idea struck him, ho
stopped.
" Yes," said he, " this means may suc
ceed. If this man livcth in London, I may
peradventure meet him again. Heaven, no
doubt, hath willed that he should have
been so very imprudent.
Somewhat consoled, by I know not what
hope, Toby went home without showing
any trouble, or saying aught of his adven
ture, lie did not co to the magistrate, but
D r
embraced his daughter, who suspected noth
ing, and lay down and slept. His faith was
in God.
Next clay he secretly thought of co-oper
ating with Providence in making research.
Ho let the mauo out of the stable where she
had passed tin night, and threw tho bridle
over her neck, in hopes that the animal, led
by habit, would naturally go to tho house
of her master. Ho therefore sent off tho
poor beast which had been fasting, to wan
der at large through the streets of London,
and followed her. But he supposed her to
have more instinct than she had : for along
time sue went right and lelt, making a
thousand turns and returns without aim.
without direction, sometimes at a stand,
then taking a contrary course. Toby
despaired. "My robber," thought he
doth not live in London. What folly in
me 1 instead of going to the magistrate
when I had the time, to have suffered my
self to be led away by this wretched ani
mal.'i
Suddenly, however, the beast pricked up
her ears and set off on a brisk trot, follow
ed by the Quaker.
"Stop 1 stop !' was tho cry on all hands.
'Detain me not 1" cried the Quaker ;
entreat you, detain mo not I"
And anxiously following with his eye the
course of the animal, ho saw her rapidly
entering tho gate of a dwelling in the sub
urb.
" 'Tis here," thoughtthe Quaker, raising
his eyes toward heaven, in thanks to Provi
dence.
In .reality, in passing tho house, ho per
ceived in the court a domestic, who patted
tho poor beast and conducted her to the
stable. Ho demanded at once the name of
the proprietor of the house.
'What, have you never been in these
parts?" was tho answer, "that y6u don't
know that this is the dwelling of the rich
merchant, Weresford ?"
Tho Quaker stood petrified.
"Weresford," repeated tho neighbor,
who believed that he had not understood
him, " tho man who made so rapid a for
tune.'"
"Excuse me, my friend, excuse me," re
plijd Toby.
He could not recover from his stupor.
"Weresford, the father of Edward,
man of note, my robber 1"
He believed he was dreaming, and desired
to come to himself. Meantime many exam
pics occurred to his memory of many re.
spectablo persons who were in league with
banditti. Toby resolved to investigate the
mystery. :
He entered boldly into tho court, and de-
manded to speak with the proprietor, who
had just gone to bed, though it was near
midday a new indication of a night of fa
tigue 1 The Quaker insisted on being in.
troduced, and soon found himself
in
Weresford's bedchamber. Ho not bein
usea to oeing uisuirbeu, rubbed his eyes
and demanded with some impatience,
' Who are you, sir? What do you want
with me ?"
The sound of the voice was recognized by
Toby, and thoroughly convinced him. He
tranquilly drew a chair and seated himself
at the bedside, his hat on his head.
"Do you remain covered?" cried the
merchant, in surprise.
"lama Quaker," answered the other,
with much calmness "and thou knowest
that such is our usage."
At these words of the Quaker, Weres
ford sat up in bed and eyed the stranger.
He doubtless recognized him, for ho turned
deadly pale.
"Well," demanded he, stammering,
" what is it if you please the the sub
ject that you come about?"
I ask thy allowance for appearing so
pressing," answered Toby; "but between
friends it matters not much, and I come
without ceremony, to ask for the watch
that thou borrowedst of me yesterday."
"The watch?"
"I value it much ; it belonged to my poor
wife, and I cannot go without it. My ex
cellent friend, the alderman, would never
forgive me were I to fail for one day to re
turn to jewel the his sister."
The name of an alderman appeared to
make somo impression upon Weresford.
Without waiting an answer, Toby contin
ued
"Thou wilt do me the pleasure to return
also the twelve guineas which I lenftheeat
tho same time. Nevertheless if thou art in
need of them, I consent to lot thee have
them for sometime, on condition that thou
givest me a receipt."
The scheme of the Quaker so disconcert
ed tho old merchant that he could not deny
tho possession of the articles, but, not
liking to acknowledge the crime, he hesi
tated to answer, when Toby added,
"I wish thee to participate at the ap
proaching marriage of my daughter Mary.
I had reserved the sum of two hundred
pounds sterling for the bridal of the expous-
ed, but an accident happened to me last
night on the road to London I was com
pletely robbed, so I come to pray thee to
give thy son a portion, which otherwise I
would not have asked of thee."
'My son?"
' Yes. Dost thou not know that he is
Mary's lover, and that 'tis he that is to mar
ry her?"
"Edward !" exclaimed the merchant,
throwing himself from the bed.
"Edward Weresford," mildly replied the
Quaker, while quietly taking a pinch of
snuff. " Come, do this thing for him. I
would not, vevily, that he should know
aught of what passed last night, and if
thou dost not furnish him with the sum I
promised, it will bo well for me to tell him
how I lost it."
Weresford ran to a bureau, and drew out
a casket with a triple lock, opened it and
returned successively to Toby his purse,
his watch and his bag of money.
" Very well," said the Quaker as ho re
ceived them. " I see that I had reason to
count on thee."
" Is this all that you want ?" demande d
the merchant with one of his blunt airs.
"Nay,I yet need something of thy friend
ship." "Speak."
"Thou wilt disinherit him. I see not
but that some one may say I have specula
ted on thy fortune."
. In finishing these words tho Quaker left
the chamber.
"No," murmured he, when ho found
himself alone, " children are not answera
blo for the faults of their parents. Mary
shall marry the son of this man, .but the
stolen money she shall never touch."
When he reached the court, he called out
to Weresford, who had come to the win
dow, "ho 1 my dear friend, I brought back
thy mare, return my horso.""
Some ' minutes afterward, Toby, well
mounted, carrying by the top, his bag of
money, furnished with his watch and purso,
reached home at a moderate trot.
V.I made a visit this morning to thy fath
er," said he to Edward, whom he perceived
entering with hiin ; " I believe we shall
jubw agree."
i Two hours afterward Weresford arrived
' at the house of Toby, and taking him apart
said :
Honest Quaker, your proceedings have
deeply affected my very soul I You might
have dishonored me dishonored my son ;
ruined me in his estimation, and caused the
misfortune of refusing him your daughter.
You have shown yourself a man in head
and heart. I shall not again blush in your
presence. Take these papers. Farewell 1
you will never see me again." And he departed.
The Quaker, left alone, opened tho pa
pers. I hey showed obligations of considera
ble value on the first bankers of London,
with a long list of names, and oppositecach
name, m figures, a sum greater or less in
amount. A billet was added wherein the
Quaker read as follows :
" These are the names of persons who
were robbed ; the figures are tho sum
which ought to be restored ; as to the mon
ey with the bankers, in my name, let it go
to the strangers, but make the restitution
secretly yourself. What remains will be
my legitimate fortune, and your daughter
will some day possess my estate."
The next day Weresford left London,
and everybody was certain he had gone to
spend his fortune in France.
On the day of the marriage, the Quaker
brought together a company of merry
friends among whom were noticed a num
ber of persons enchanted with the conduct
of the robbers of London, who through
the interposition of Toby, had mado resti
tution of their lost capital with interest.
A Crusty Passenger.
A good joke recently happened at one of
our railroad stations. Tho cars were just
starting as a man from the upper part of this
county, all out of breath, reached the train.
The baggage man seized his hand-trunk
and pitched it in, whilo the passenger was
assisted on the train as it moved away.
Breathless and perspiring, he drops into
a seat by the side of a crusty-looking pas
senger, who is reading a paper.
New Passenger. " "Whew 1 Right smart
chase they give me. Reckon this train's
ahead of time, ain't it stranger?"
Crusty. "Do'no."
N. P. "Hurried so hadn't time to get a
ticket, or one of them thingumbobs on my
hand-trunk. Think it'll be safe, eh ?"
Crusty. (Shrinking back into his coat
collar, and drawing impatiently away),
"Can't say."
N. P. (Determined to make himsolf
agreeable, said), " Live far about here?"
Crusty. (Gruffly). "No."
N. P. (Peering at Crusty's paper), "I
see you are reading the '. Up in our
parts they don't think as much of that as
they do of The Bloomfield Timet. Ever
read it?"
Crusty. (Snappishly), "No, wipe my
feet on the Times."
N. P. (Taking a big chew of tobacco),
" Well, stranger, you just keep on reading
the , and wiping your feet on the
Times, and your feet'll know more than
your head does."
"Old Crusty" being convinced that this
was so, has since sent his dollar and had
his name placed on our subscription list ;
and no doubt in future will feel in a better
humor when he travels.
Our advice to every one who lias not al
ready done so, is to send one dollar and
have their name placed among our list, of
subscribers.
CW A learned divine was in the habit of
preaching so as to be rather boyond the
comprehension of some of his hearers. A
friend of his wishing to give him a gentle
hint on the subject, asked him oue day tho
duty of a shepherd.
"Too feed the flock, of course," was the
reply.
"Ought he, then," said his friend "to
place the hay so high that but few of the
sheep-can reach it ?"
fST The approaching call of tho oensua
taker has prompted some journalist to trot
out Saxe's funny sketch, which runs like
this:
Got any children T the Marehsl nald .
To the lady from over the Bhlne '
The lady shook her flaxen curU, ' '
And civilly answered, Ntin. - J,
Husband, of course t the Marshal said,
To the lady from over the Itblne
The lady shook her Suxon curls, f
And civilly aaswersd, Ariin.
E5"IIow did Adam
lie was snaked, ou '
get' out of E Jon ?