The Middlebury register. [volume] (Middlebury, Vt.) 1850-1882, 1865-07-05

hdu oe0H spruce young IellOW, nanu-
some as picture.
SO he toiled on toward her city, and
when faint with lhunger, found u horse
TO hold or a job to do and earnt pit
tance.
So, when he crawled into town, he
had shilling, and being faint, skunk into
Il restaurant hard by to get glass of ale
1t was place frequented by Germans,
and with sanded floor and bare pine
tables. But it had its elegancies, too.
And opposite the table where John Rod
man sat, hung square mirror and two
gaudy prints John looked at one of
these, then at the other
AT last toward the mirror.
He thought it was a window and that
a man was looking at him through it, at
the first glance.
What an ill-loking dog, thought John,
| wouldn't ytrust him. How he starcs
poor wretch; he don't seem human
All ! Oh! my God! II is nysclfi
1t was an awful moment. Death has
no more fearful pang. That miserable
creature was John Rodman-was the be-
ing of whom he said I-that-that
that
lie hid his head in his arms, and was
only saved sane man by a flood of tears.
The polcgmatic Germans only fancied
him at that stage in his cups, when weep
ing comes quite natural. One, a yellow
haired grocer, grinned and quite enjoyed
the joke-and that was all the notice
taken.
And John Rodman, broken-hcarted
and quite crushed, crept out into the
street, his own image haunting him like
ghost. Oh, the lost youth the bright
haired, bright-eyed boy, who had loved
Eva Fay, where was he gone? Oh. the
stalwart, handsome man into whom that
youth should have changed! Where
was his grave dug1 Who was this,
blot on the sunshine, creature stamped
neutrality-suspicious.?
John Rodman John Rodman-John
Rodman could it be
The glimpse of his own face had been
enough, and with clenchcd hands and
blood-shot eyes turned IIeavenward, he
vowed never to see Eva Fay, never while
he lived to let her see and know him.
But perhaps | may in Heaven, John
Rodman muttcred; for Col and the an
gels know suffered punishment for
crime | never committed, and that
meant to be honest while live.
Then the memory of Il time when he
had had the hopes and dreams that clad.
den the lives of other men, swept over
John Rodmans soul. He had expected
to be rich aId famous, to have n wifi
and children about his heart, to he re-,
pcctcd living, and remembered dead;
now, at thirty five, his hopes were these:
crust to eat, II hole to crawl into by
night, and most of all, that the eve of
the woman he yet worshipped as Cath
Ole devotee adores his patron saint, might
never rest upon him.
1t would break my Eva's heart he
said to see what have ccme to.
lie sought for work next day. He was
splendid penlnan and good account
ant. But men looked at his rags and
ut the prison mould which seemed 10
hang about him and drew back. Men in
clean black coats were to be had; labor
was at discount 1t was favor to
grant it. One or two asked for his let
ters of introduction, or references He al
most laughed in their faces, with bitter
recollection of the fact that he had been
ten years in prison on false charge of
theft.
And so days came and passed, and
other days, and with them no regular
employment But somehow he picked
up enough for meals and lodging by put
ting in coal or menial work of the same
kind
lie who had been-nay, was, for he had
only been unfortunate-not guilty-a
gentleman by birth of nature. He strove
and prayed for patience and for death,
until, at last, the deepest depth of dark
ness came to him
No food, no fire, no shelter, save a
dismal cellar way, for three long days
and nights. On the fourth, at dusk, he
crept out to beg 1t did not matter who
knew him; he could shame none.
lie went TO one great door. 1t was
in his face. He stopped an old
gentleman, and was threatened with ar
rest lie staggered, faint with hunger to
other doors. No, no, always no to his
gasping prayer for charity.
AT last, in low, poor street, he OPEN
ed kitchen door, where fat woman
was just taking from her stove oven a
great pan of biscuit, and comfortable
supper smoked on the board.
The fragrance of the warm bread made
him faint with longing, His fingers qui-
vered. He humby said, hat in hand ?
" a piece of bread, if you please, ma am"
as child might,
He no more dreamt of any possibility
of refusal than OF seeing those warm bis
cult turn into stone.
But that woman comfortable with good
food, rosy from her warm fire and lamp
light, turned on him in wien fashion:
" Bread 7 You're able to earn your
own bread. i don't encourage men beg
CARS There's work for them as aren't
too lazy. You'd best tramp if you don't
want the dog set on you. Here, Carlo
here, old fellow !"
John Rodman turned without a word.
He was growing blind and deaf. lie
staggered out into the street, and stumb-