It is all very nice when one can exercise a benevolent spirit, and not
draw upon his own pocket.
A well-authenticated story is repeated in this line of Dr. M. Monsey.
Passing through a market one day, he noticed a miserable old woman looking
wistfully at a piece of meat hanging just within a stall.
"What is the price of this meat, sir?" she timidly inquired.
"A penny a pound, old woman," replied the butcher, sneeringly, disdaining
a civil answer to the wretched-looking woman, who probably had not a penny
to pay for the chop.
"Just weigh that piece of meat, my friend," said the doctor, who had been
attentively watching the proceedings.
The butcher cheerfully complied with the request of so respectable-looking
a customer.
"Ten pounds and a half, sir," replied the butcher.
"There, my good woman," said the doctor, "hold up your apron;" and he
dumped the whole into it, saying, "Now make haste home and cook it for
your family."
After blessing the very eccentric but benevolent old man over and again
for the timely provision, she drew up the corners of the apron, and ran
speedily down the market.
"Here, my man," said the doctor, turning to the smiling butcher, "here is
ten pence ha'penny, the price of your meat."
"What? What do you mean?" asked the butcher.
"I mean, sir, that I take you at your word. You said the meat was a penny
a pound. At that price I bought it for the poor old woman. It's all I'll
pay you. Good morning, sir."
[Illustration: THE ASTONISHED BUTCHER.]
I can imagine the "chop-fallen" butcher, standing, in his long frock, with
a _beaten_ expression of countenance, alternating his gaze between the
pence in his palm and the retreating form of the wigged and laughing old
doctor.