The Man that Corrupted Hadleyburg
The Man that Corrupted Hadleyburg
It was many years ago. Hadleyburg was the most honest and upright
town in all the region round about. It had kept that reputation
unsmirched during three generations, and was prouder of it than of
any other of its possessions. It was so proud of it, and so anxious
to insure its perpetuation, that it began to teach the principles of
honest dealing to its babies in the cradle, and made the like
teachings the staple of their culture thenceforward through all the
years devoted to their education. Also, throughout the formative
years temptations were kept out of the way of the young people, so
that their honesty could have every chance to harden and solidify,
and become a part of their very bone. The neighbouring towns were
jealous of this honourable supremacy, and affected to sneer at
Hadleyburg’s pride in it and call it vanity; but all the same they
were obliged to acknowledge that Hadleyburg was in reality an
incorruptible town; and if pressed they would also acknowledge that
the mere fact that a young man hailed from Hadleyburg was all the
recommendation he needed when he went forth from his natal town to
seek for responsible employment.
But at last, in the drift of time, Hadleyburg had the ill luck to
offend a passing stranger–possibly without knowing it, certainly
without caring, for Hadleyburg was sufficient unto itself, and cared
not a rap for strangers or their opinions. Still, it would have
been well to make an exception in this one’s case, for he was a
bitter man, and revengeful. All through his wanderings during a
whole year he kept his injury in mind, and gave all his leisure
moments to trying to invent a compensating satisfaction for it. He
contrived many plans, and all of them were good, but none of them
was quite sweeping enough: the poorest of them would hurt a great
many individuals, but what he wanted was a plan which would
comprehend the entire town, and not let so much as one person escape
unhurt. At last he had a fortunate idea, and when it fell into his
brain it lit up his whole head with an evil joy. He began to form a
plan at once, saying to himself “That is the thing to do–I will
corrupt the town.”
Six months later he went to Hadleyburg, and arrived in a buggy at
the house of the old cashier of the bank about ten at night. He got
a sack out of the buggy, shouldered it, and staggered with it
through the cottage yard, and knocked at the door. A woman’s voice
said “Come in,” and he entered, and set his sack behind the stove in
the parlour, saying politely to the old lady who sat reading the
“Missionary Herald” by the lamp:
“Pray keep your seat, madam, I will not disturb you. There–now it
is pretty well concealed; one would hardly know it was there. Can I
see your husband a moment, madam?”
No, he was gone to Brixton, and might not return before morning.
“Very well, madam, it is no matter. I merely wanted to leave that
sack in his care, to be delivered to the rightful owner when he
shall be found. I am a stranger; he does not know me; I am merely
passing through the town to-night to discharge a matter which has
been long in my mind. My errand is now completed, and I go pleased
and a little proud, and you will never see me again. There is a
paper attached to the sack which will explain everything. Good-
night, madam.”
The old lady was afraid of the mysterious big stranger, and was glad
to see him go. But her curiosity was roused, and she went straight
to the sack and brought away the paper. It began as follows:
“TO BE PUBLISHED, or, the right man sought out by private inquiry–
either will answer. This sack contains gold coin weighing a hundred
and sixty pounds four ounces–”
“Mercy on us, and the door not locked!”
Mrs. Richards flew to it all in a tremble and locked it, then pulled