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
relates the following story in illustration of this phase of his
character:
"Many winters ago, it will be remembered that a style of striped goods
was quite popular with poor people on account of its cheapness, and that
it acquired the name of 'Hard Times.
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