Just before leaving his old home
for the New World the young woman
to whom he was betrothed was
drowned on a pleasure party, and
from that day young Scriven dedi
cated himself to philanthropic work
along the humbler walks of llfex
From this resolution he never de
viated a hair's breadth. Men might
come and men might go, but he kept
steadily on about his wovk of helping
the poor, the sick and the sorrowing.
A glimpse into the “true inward
ness” of the man is given in the fol
lowing anecdote of him:
One day he was seen walking along
one of the streets of Port Hope, the
little Canadian town In which he
lived, dressed as a plain workingman
and carrying a saw-horse and a saw.
lie was on his way to saw some
wood for a poor old woman who had
no one in particular to look after her.
“Do you know that man? What is
his name and where does he live? 1
want some one to cut a lot of wood
for me, and l find it difficult to find
a man to do the work faithfully," said
a stranger to a resident of the town.
“But you can’t get that man," was
the reply. “That man is Joseph
Scriven. He won’t cut wood for you.”
“Why not?” asked the stranger.
“Because you are able to pay for it.
He only cuts wood for sick people
and poor old widows."
It was not known until a short time
before his death that he had a poetic
gift.
A neighbor, while sitting up with
him in his illness, happened to run
across'a manuscript copy of a hymn.
