So, off Andrew Lyon started to see this individual.

“I’ve come begging, Mr. Jones,” said he, on meeting him.  And he spoke in a frank, pleasant manner,

“Then you’ve come to the wrong shop; that’s all I have to say,” was the blunt answer.

“Don’t say that, Mr. Jones.  Hear my story first.”

“I do say it, and I’m in earnest,” returned Jones.  “I feel as poor as Job’s turkey to-day.”

“I only want a dollar to help a poor widow pay her rent,” said Lyon.

“Oh, hang all the poor widows!  If that’s your game, you’ll get nothing here.  I’ve got my hands full to pay my own rent.  A nice time I’d have in handing out a dollar to every poor widow in town to help pay her rent!  No, no, my friend, you can’t get anything here.”

“Just as you feel about it,” said Andrew Lyon.  “There’s no compulsion in the matter.”

“No, I presume not,” was rather coldly replied.

Lyon returned to his shop, still more disheartened than before.  He had undertaken a thankless office.

Nearly two hours elapsed before his resolution to persevere in the good work he had begun came back with sufficient force to prompt to another effort.  Then he dropped in upon his neighbour Tompkins, to whom he made known his errand.

“Why, yes, I suppose I must do something in a case like this,” said Tompkins, with the tone and air of a man who was cornered.  “But there are so many calls for charity, that we are naturally enough led to hold on pretty tightly to our purse strings.  Poor woman!  I feel sorry for her.  How much do you want?”

“I am trying to get ten persons, including myself, to give a dollar each.”

“Well, here’s my dollar.”  And Tompkins forced a smile to his face as he handed over his contribution,—­but the smile did not conceal an expression which said very plainly—­

“I hope you will not trouble me again in this way.”

“You may be sure I will not,” muttered Lyon, as he went away.  He fully understood the meaning of the expression.

Only one more application did the kind-hearted man make.  It was successful; but there was something in the manner of the individual who gave his dollar, that Lyon felt as a rebuke.

“And so poor Mrs. Arnold did not get the whole of her arrears of rent paid off,” says some one who has felt an interest in her favour.

Oh, yes she did.  Mr. Lyon begged five dollars, and added five more from his own slender purse.  But, he cannot be induced again to undertake the thankless office of seeking relief from the benevolent for a fellow creature in need.  He has learned that a great many who refuse alms on the plea that the object presented is not worthy, are but little more inclined to charitable deeds, when on this point there is no question.