s. Longworth that those he wore
away from the house were all that he had. The result was that Frank was
hurried off to William Hart's shoe store, on Fifth Street, for new ones,
with instructions to 'Ask Mr. Hart for the kind I always buy, and don't
pay over a dollar and a half for them.'"

Yet many persons charged this man with stinginess--a charge to which
every rich man lays himself open who does not give to all who ask him.
Even the rich must refuse sometimes, for there is no reason why they
should answer _all_ the calls made upon them--a course which would soon
impoverish them. They must discriminate somewhere, and how this shall be
done is a question which each must decide for himself. Longworth
exercised this discrimination in an eccentric manner, eminently
characteristic of him. He invariably refused cases that commended
themselves to others. A gentleman once applied to him for assistance for
a widow in destitute circumstances.

"Who is she?" asked the millionaire. "Do you know her? Is she a
deserving object?"

"She is not only a woman of excellent character," answered his friend,
"but she is doing all in her power to support a large family of
children."

"Very well, then," said Mr. Longworth, "I shan't give a cent. Such
persons will always find a plenty to relieve them."

He was firm, and turned coldly from the entreaties of his friend. Yet
he opened his purse liberally to those whom others refused. Vagabonds,
drunkards, fallen women, those who had gone down far into the depths of
misery and wretchedness, and from whom respectable people shrank in
disgust, never appealed to him in vain. "The devil's poor," he
whimsically called them. He would listen to them patiently, moved to the
depths of his soul by their sad stories, and would send them away
rejoicing that they were not utterly friendless. "Decent paupers will
always find a plenty to help them," he would say, "but no one cares for
these poor wretches. Every body damns them, and as no one else will help
them, I must." Yet he aided them in such a manner as to encourage them
to rise above their wretchedness.

In his personal appearance Mr. Longworth was not prepossessing. He was
dry and caustic in his remarks, and rarely spared the object of his
satire. He was plain and careless in his dress, looking more like a
beggar than a millionaire. He cared nothing for dress, except, perhaps,
that he preferred common clothes to fine ones. One of his acquaintances