It would be painful to record in detail thereturn journey of uncle Wellington - Mr. Braboyno longer - to his native town; how many wearymiles he walked; how many times he risked hislife on railroad trucks and between freight cars;how he depended for sustenance on the grudginghand of backdoor charity. Nor would it beprofitable or delicate to mention any slightdeviations from the path of rectitude, as judgedby conventional standards, to which he mayoccasionally have been driven by a too insistenthunger; or to refer in the remotest degree to acompulsory sojourn of thirty days in a city wherehe had no references, and could show no visiblemeans of support. True charity will let thesepurely personal matters remain locked in thebosom of him who suffered them.


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