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Show DISINHERITED. <br><Br> Sam Hilton was very poor and very ambitious. We don't mean to say that he burned for the triumphs of the tented field, for the honors of the senate house, or for the glories of fame in any of its multiform phases, but simply that, having elegant tastes and habits, and being naturally and habitually lazy, he desired to possess a fortune which would enable him to sit down at ease in a splendid mansion, away from the cares and labors of this busy world. <br><br> Making haste to be rich in other than the patient, painstaking way which slowly wins wealth from the rude elements, is dangerous business. It often leads men to do what they would not otherwise do - which is not a strictly original idea, but, at the same time, is furnished without expense, and will bear repetition. <br><br> Sam wanted to be rich; not when he got old and stiff, but now, while he was in the full vigor of his early manhood. He had tried several experiments in the way of being a clerk and of keeping a shop himself; but the money either did not come in at all, or came in so slowly, that he lost his patience, his situation, and his credit. <br><br> Sam expected to be rich some time or other, for he had a rich uncle, who, in the natural order o events would die, though the aspirant had begun to fear he would live forever, if it was only to bother him. Uncle Dan was only fifty-eight and might live a dozen years more, which was equivalent to cheating him out of twelve years of existence, for life without wealth he counted as nothing. <br><br> Sam had another strong reason for desiring wealth, and this was Violet Elliott, a very pretty girl of nineteen, whose father would not let her marry him till he had something to support her - which was very ridiculous of the old gentleman and heartily to be condemned by all aspirants to forbidden matrimony. Sam had sentiment, and really loved Miss Elliott with all his soul, which was not very large; but an ounce of powder for a musket is more than a pound for a ???. He wanted to be married, not when he got old, but now, while his heart was warm. <br><br> He waited a year, and Uncle Dan obstinately refused to die, or even to be sick, though he had a mortal dread of cholera, ship-fever, and especially of the small-pox. This latter disease was quite prevalent in the city where the parties resided, amounting to an epidemic, and great was the consternation of the old gentleman. He told Sam he was sure he should die of the small-pox - he felt it in his bones. He was positive he should not be alive in another month. <br><br> "Then my friends will all desert me, and I shall die like a masterless dog," added Uncle Dan, fearfully moved by the sad picture he had drawn. <br><br> "No they won't uncle; at least there is one who will not desert you," replied Sam, with a touch of sentiment that was creditable to his heart, considering that he had had the small-pox himself. <br><br> "Brave boy!" exclaimed Uncle Dan; "give me your hand on that. You are my heir and for your sake I wish I was dead now." <br><br> "Thank you, uncle," said Sam, though he was not so impolite as to say ??? so himself, whatever he thought. <br><br> It was very kind of Uncle Dan to wish himself dead for the beneit of the next of kin, and his spirit is worthy to be copied by all old gentlemen of large estates, who are descending the downhill of life. Sam was duly grateful for this kind consideration, and sorry that Uncle Dan did not practice what he preached. <br><br> As he walked home he could not help thinking of what his uncle had said. Why could not Uncle Dan take the small pox? If he got it he was certain to die with it. Sam's brow darkened as he walked along, and a most diabolical idea took possession of his mind. He had so long wished for the death of his uncle, that the idea of giving him a little help as he rolled down the inclined plane, at the foot of which lay the open grave, did not make him shudder, as it ought to have done - which shows how dangerous it is to harbor wicked thoughts. <br><br> Instead of going directly home as he had intended, he called at the lodging of a friend who was sick with the small-pox. After spending a few moments in conversation with the sick man, he seated himself at the table and wrote a short note to his uncle, requesting the loan of a hundred dollars for a few weeks - not an unusual thing for Sam to do. With this note in his hand, he sat down by the side of the sufferer's bed, and contrived to bring the paper in contact with him several times, and only left when he was sure it was infected. <br><br> Repairing to his home, he placed the note in an envelope and was about to seal and superscribe it, when a sudden thought entered his head. <br><br> "Thunder!" exclaimed he, "I promised to meet Violet in half an hour from now. I can't do it without exposing her to the small-pox. I will write a note to her." <br><br> Seating himself at the table, he wrote to this effect: -- <br><br> "Dearest Violet - I have just come from the room of Johnson, who is down with the small-pox; therefore I dare not meet you as I promised. Pray excuse me and I will see you tomorrow, when my clothes have been fumigated. <br><br "Do not fear this note, for it will be fumigated before I send it, for your dear health is more to me than life. Sam." Putting the note in an envelope, he directed both of the epistles, and sent them on their respective missions. <br><br> "What should Sam want to borrow money of his uncle?" said pretty Violet Elliott, as she read the note taken from the envelope directed to her. <br><br> "But this note was not intended for me, Sam has put it into the wrong envelope. Of course he would not have had me see this note for the world, so I will seal it up, and get Jim to send it to Mr. Hilton;" and she did so. <br><br> "The young dog! He shall not enter my house again! Visit a small-pox patient! This note is for his girl, but I have too much regard for her health to send it to her," said Uncle Dan, as he read the note he had taken from the envelope addressed to him, and then threw both into the fire. <br><br> An hour later came the real note from Sam, and the old gentleman swore he wouldn't lend him a dollar, or let him enter his house, or receive a note from him or anybody else; and he kept his word. <br><br> Violet did not say a word about the note when Sam called the next day, and the blunderer did not find out what a mistake he had made. She would not let him know that she had read the contents of a note not intended for her, in consideration of the delicate topic upon which it treated. Sam was duly astonished when his uncle refused to see him. <br><br> In a fortnight Violet Elliott was prostrated by the prevailing malady, which appeared in her case in its worst form. She recovered, but by the inattention of her nurses she was sadly disfigured. <br><br> "The infernal young reprobate! I see it all now!" exclaimed Uncle Dan, as he sat over his parlor fire one day. "Sam intended that note for me, sent it to Violet, and she has taken the disease from it. The careless young devil! Hah!" and Uncle Dan jumped out of his chair, as a pea jumps out of a hot skillet - "he fumigated the note intended for her; he didn't fumigate mine. Confound him! I'll fumigate him!" <br><br> And he did do it. When the old gentleman died only three years later, it was found that he had disinherited Sam, and strangely, as everybody thought, given Violet Elliott twenty thousand dollars. She had vicariously suffered, been pitied, had her beauty ruined. It was handsome of Uncle Dan, but it was just, for since Violet's fair face had been spoiled, Sam had descried her. But she married a better man than he, and her husband thought her pretty, in spite of her pitted face. <br><br> Sam was astounded and confounded at the strange turn things had taken; but there was so much intelligence displayed in the course of the events, that he was compelled to believe that Uncle Dan had fathomed his wicked purpose - which shows how dangerous it is to have wicked purposes. |