The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1860-04-13
DOWN HILL.
True Life Picture.

Not long since I had occasion to visit
one Of our Courts. and while conversing
with a le ,aI friend | heard the name of
John Anderson called.
There is a hard case" remarked my
friend.
Hooked upon the man in the prisoners
dock. lie was standing up, and plead
guilty to the crime of theft lie was tall
man, but bent and infrm, though not old.
His garb was torn, sparse, and filthy his
face was blood shot; his hair was matted
with dirt, and his bowed form quivered
with delirium. Certainly | never saw a
more pitjable object. Surely that man
was not born villain. Imoved my place
TO obtain nearer view of his face. He
gazed upon me single instant, and then,
covering his face with his hands, lie sank
powerless into the seat.
Good God p | invountarily exclaim-
ed, starting forward. Will-"
| had half spoken his name when he
quickly raised his head and cast upon me
look of such imploring agony that my
tongue was tied at once. Then he covered
his face over again.
| asked my legal companion if the pris
onsr had counsel. He said no. | told
him to do all in his power for the poor
fellows benefit, and | would pay him
lie promised, and | left. | could not re-
main and see that man tried tears came
to my eyes as looked upon him, and it
was not until had gained the street, and
Io1 7 o1r1l hrao, l.
freely
John Anderson, Alas. he was a.ham
ed to be known as his mothers son. That
was not his real name, but you shall know
him By no other. | will call him by the
name that stands upon the records Of the
court
John Anderson was my schoolmate, and
it was not many years ago-not over
twenty-that We left our academy toqeth-
er; he to return to the home Of wealthy
parents-I to sit down for few years 10
the dingy sanctum of newspaper, office,
and then wandered off acros. the ocean.
| was gone some four years, and when |
returned | found John a married man
His father was dead and had left his only
son princely fortune.
And, c." he said to ne, as he
met me at the railroad station, "you shall
see what a bird have Gagged. My Ellen
i. Lark, princess of all birds that ever
looked beautiful or sang sweetly."
lie was enthusiastic, but not mistaken !;
for l found his wife all that he had said,
simply emitting the poetry. And so good,
too-so loving and kind. Aye, she SO
loved John that she loved all his friends.
What lucky fellow to find such a wife,
and what lucky woman to find such a
husband. John Anderson was AS hand
some AS she-tall, straight, m ,nly, high
browed with rich chestnut curIs, and a
face as faultlessly noble and beautiful as
an artist ever copied And he WAS good,
too; and kind generous and true.
| spent a week with them, and WAS
happy all the while johns mother lived
with them, fine old lady, as ever lived,
and makirg herself constant Joy by doting
on her darling boy" as she always
called him. | gave her an account of my
adventures by sea and land, in foreign
climes, and she kissed me because | loved
her darling.
did not see John again for four years.
| reached his house in the evening. He
was not in; but bis wife and mother were
there to receive me, and two curly headed
boys were at play about Ellen's chair
knew at once they were my friends child
rem. Everything seemed pleasant until
the little ones We're to bed and asleep. and
then | could see that Ellen WAS troubled.
She tried to hide it, but 4 face 50 used to
the sunshine OF smiles could not conceal a
cloud.
At length John came. H's face was
flushed and his eyes looked in1amed lie
grasped my hand with happy laugh,
called me old fellow" " old dog" said |
must come and live with him, and many
other extravagant things. His wife tried
to hide her tears, while his mother shook
her head and said:
" He'll SOW his wild oats soon; my dsr-
ling can never be bad man."
God grant IT, [ though to myself;
and | knew that the same prayer was upon
EIlen's lips.
1t was late when we retired, and we
might not have done so even then, had
not John fallen asleep in his chair
On the following morning | walked out
with my friend. | told him | was sorry
to see him as saw him the night before
"Oh," said he, with a laugh, "oh, that
was nothing-onIy little vine party
We had glorious time. l wish you had
been there"
At first thought l would say no more
but was it not my duty! | knew his na
ture better than he knew it himself. His
aPPe,ites and pleasures bounded his own
vision. | knew how kind and generous
he was-alas. too kind, too generous.
John, could you have seen Ellen'- face
last evening you would have tremJ'ed.-
7 Can you make her unhappy =
lie stopped me with, Don't be fool.
/ Why should she be unhappy Z"
because she fears you are going doun