A Tale By Mark Twain

I he new Atlantic contains the tale cf Ivlward Milla and George Bentnn by Mark I wain, whicli is as clevor a sátiro od the sentimentality over crime as that .sort of guala has received. Edward Mills minded trom boyhood, George Bonton never did. hdward prosperod. George always had to be helpcd. They had the sanie adoptcd prents, who lef't all the property to George beeau.-e Edward could take care of himself'. So it went in all things, even the girl that hdward was engaged to dropped him, as it was her duty to save George. Hard times threw Mward out of regular work, and he rclapsed to common labor a while ; but Gtorge hecamn a flourishing drunkard. We give the last part of the story : A grand temporáneo revival was got up, and af'ter some rousing speeches liad been made, the chairniao suid, impressivoly ; We are now about to cali for sigriers ; and I think there is a spectacle in store for you which not many in this house will bc able to view with dry eyes." There was an eloquent pause, and thun George Bentiin, escorted by a red-sashed detachment of' the ludios of the refuge, stepped forward upon tbc platform and signed the pledge. The air was rent with applause, and everybody cried for joy. Everybody wruug the hand of the new convert when the meeting was over, his salary was enlarged next day ; he was the talk of' the town, and its hero. An account of it was pabhf-hed. George Benton feil, regularly, every three muatliy, but was faithluily rescued and wrought with, every time, and good f-ituations wore found for liim. Pinally, he was taken around the country lecturing as a reformed drunkard, and he had great aou.süs and did an immense amount of Eood. He was so popular at home, and so truüted- during his sober intervals- th at lie was enabled to use the name of a principal citizen and fret a large sum of mooey at the bank. A raighty pressure was brought to brar to i-ave him trom the consi-quences of his forgery, and it was partially successful- he was "sent up" for only two years. Wben, at the eud of a year, the tireleas efforts of the benevolent wcre crowned with success, and he emerged from the pcnitentiary with a pardon in his pocket, the prisoner's friend tociety met him at the door with a situation and a eomfortable salary, and ail the other benevolent people carne forward and gave him adyice, eneouragement and help. Edward Mills had once applieJ to the prisoner's friend society for a situation, " Have you been a prisoner?" made brief work of' his case. While all these things were going on, bdward Mills bad been quiutly ïuaking head against adversity. He was still poer, but was in recciptof a steady and pufficient sulai y, as the respected and trusted cashier of a bank. (Jeorge Benton never une near him, and was never heard tooinquire abuut him. George got to indulging in long absences from the town ; there were ill reports about him, but notbing deünite. One winter's night soine inasked burglars forced their way into the bank, and tbund Edward Mills there alone. ïhev comtuanded him to rcvcal tho "combina tion," so that they could get into the safe. He refused. Tliey threatened his lif'e. He raid his employers trusted him, and he could nüt be traitor to that trust. He could die, if lie must, but while hc lived he would be faithful, he would not yield up the "combinition." The burglars killed him. The deteciives hunted down tho crimináis; tlie chief one proved to be Georpe Buntqn. A wide sympathy was feit for the widow and orphaus of the dead man, and all the newspapers in the land begged that uil the banks in the land would testify their appreciation of the fidelity and heroism of the murdered cashier by coming lorward with a generous contribution in aid of the family now bereft of support. Tho result was a mas of solid cash, unoonting to upwards of Í0u0-an average of nearly three-eights of a cent for each bank in the Union. The cai-hier's own bank testilied its gratitude by endcavoring to show (but humiliatingly failed in it) that the peerle.-s servaiu's accounts were not .-square, and that he hiiueef had knocked his brains out with a bludgeon to escape detectiou and punishment. George Bonton was arraigned for trial. Then everybody seemed to forget the widow and orphans in their eolicitude for poor Ueorge. Kverj thiug that money and intlueiice could do was done to save him, but it all failed ; he was sentenoed to death. Straightway the governor was bcsieged with petitions for couïmutation or pardon ; tbey were broujfht by tearful young girls, by aorrowful oíd muda, by deputations of pathetic widow.s, by sboals of' mpresMve orpbans. But no, the governor - lor once would not yield. JS'ow, George Banton experienced religión. The glad news flew all aroutd. Frotn that time f'orth hia cell was always fuil of girls and woinen and fresh flowers ; all the day long there was prayer and hyinu-singing and thanksgivmgs and homiles and tcars, with never an interruption except an ocaasional flve-ininute intermisión fbr refreshments. ïhis sort of tbing cootinued up to the very gallows, aud George lienton went proudly home in the black cap, before a waiüng audience of the sweetest and best that the región could produce. Ilis grave had fresh flowers on it every day, for a while, and then the head-stone bore these words, under a hand pointing alof't: "He bas fought the good figlit. " The brave cashier's head stone had this inseription : "Be pure, honest, sober, in dustriou?, considérate, and you will never-" Nobody knows who gave the order to leave it that way, but it was so given. The cashier's faruüy are in stringent circumstances now, it is said : but no matter; a lot of appreciativo people, who were not willing that an act so brave and true as his should go unrewarded, have colleoted ?4ü 000 - and built a memorial ehureh with it.