as a bee when he saw "the
master" coming that way, who would praise him for his industry and wink
at his tricks. Tommy was quite a Merry Andrew, and more knave than
fool, after all; and when he became a decent looking man, from the
present of a bran new suit--cap-a-pie--and a comb into the bargain,
which his thoughtful benefactor procured for him, he was decidedly the
lion of the kitchen cabinet. But how to get rid of Tommy became at
length a serious question. Just before returning to the city in the
fall, he was sent with a note, from "the master," to a farmer, hard by,
who gave him a trial, but finding that he was not capable of earning a
living, or from some other cause, he soon dismissed him; and, Tommy,
much to my dismay, found his way to our city residence. But as the
developments of his character in civilized life, were not of the most
encouraging nature, it was not a difficult matter for your grandfather
to drive him from the premises.

But there was another poor man, of whom I never speak or think,
but with feelings of kindness and respect. His remains lie in
Bellefontaine, and I have no doubt but that his spirit is happy in the
presence of his God. He had lived a poor, but honest life in the west
of Ireland, with his wife and children, until, like thousands of his
countrymen, he was driven, by hardship and poverty, to seek a better
future in this "land of the free and the home of the brave." In
extreme poverty they arrived in St. Louis. Not so many in family as
when they bade adieu to their native land, having buried one or two
children on the banks of the Mississippi. They had all had "ship
fever," and a more wretched looking family I had never seen. But
notwithstanding their squalid poverty and wretchedness we found them
industrious, good people, and Protestants, which was an unusual
circumstance among this class of Irish. Your grandfather, who, in his
charities, never seemed to forget that God caused his sun to shine upon
the evil as well as the good, and who could not allow even a beast to
suffer from want, took peculiar pleasure in ministering to the
necessities of this virtuous family, and reaped the rare reward of a
rich return in gratitude and love. Poor David appeared to look up to
him as to a superior being, always addressing him as "Your honor," in
the most respectful manner. One day as I was coming out of church I
was attracted by the subdued look of this good man, whose tearful eyes