A respectable character, after having long figured away in the gay world
at Paris, was at length compelled to live in an obscure retreat in that
city, the victim of severe and unforeseen misfortunes. He was so
indigent, that he subsisted only on an allowance from the parish. Every
week a quantity of bread was sent to him sufficient for his support, and
yet at length he demanded more. On this the curate sent for him. He
went: “Do you live alone?” said the curate; “With whom, sir,” answered
the unfortunate man, “is it possible I should live? I am wretched; you
see that I am, since I thus solicit charity, and am abandoned by all the
world.” “But, sir,” continued the curate, “if you live alone, why do you
ask for more bread than is sufficient for yourself?” The other was quite
disconcerted, and at last, with great reluctance, confessed that he had
a dog. The curate did not drop the subject. He desired him to observe,
that he was only the distributor of the bread that belonged to the poor,
and that it was absolutely necessary that he should dispose of his dog.
“Ah, sir,” exclaimed the poor man, weeping; “and if I should lose my
dog, who is there then to love me?” The good pastor melting into tears,
took his purse, and giving it to him, “take this, sir,” said he; “this
is mine---this I can give.”
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