The house held its
breath while he slit the envelope open and took from it a slip of paper.
He read its contents--slowly and impressively--the audience listening
with tranced attention to this magic document, each of whose words stood
for an ingot of gold:
"'The remark which I made to the distressed stranger was this: "You are
very far from being a bad man; go, and reform."' Then he continued:--'We
shall know in a moment now whether the remark here quoted corresponds
with the one concealed in the sack; and if that shall prove to be so--and
it undoubtedly will--this sack of gold belongs to a fellow-citizen who
will henceforth stand before the nation as the symbol of the special
virtue which has made our town famous throughout the land--Mr. Billson!'"
The house had gotten itself all ready to burst into the proper tornado of
applause; but instead of doing it, it seemed stricken with a paralysis;
there was a deep hush for a moment or two, then a wave of whispered
murmurs swept the place--of about this tenor: "BILLSON! oh, come, this is
TOO thin! Twenty dollars to a stranger--or ANYBODY--BILLSON! Tell it
to the marines!" And now at this point the house caught its breath all
of a sudden in a new access of astonishment, for it discovered that
whereas in one part of the hall Deacon Billson was standing up with his
head weekly bowed, in another part of it Lawyer Wilson was doing the
same.
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