Fayetteville observer. [volume] (Fayetteville, Tenn.) 1850-1966, 1866-08-02
Su Gxeslleut Storu.
THE GROCER'S STORY.

Ours was quiet street at mos
: times-a lazy, shady place, wher
the green blinds were foreve
closed, and where there was 81
little passing that spears of gras
grew here and there between tn
fag-stones, and the stone curbs OF
the iron rallied areas were fringet
with soft green moss. A very
quiet place most times; but latt
upon one autumn afternoon {
strange cry sounded through it
(which awakened all the echoes
and called curious faces to the door.
and windows.
"Stop thief! stop thief!''
The strong voice of policeman
uttered the cry at first, and the
shrill treble of two boys at play
near by took it up and repeated it
and by-and-by there was a full
deep chorus, like the cry of .
pack of hounds-a sound you
might have known at any distance
however ignorant you were of the
language, to be the cry of men
who hunted something. /
Policemen with their clubs, er.
rand boys with bundles, bakers
with baskets on their arms, young
gentlemen just released from the
academy close at hand, and ragged
urchins, whose school-house was
the gutter, all Joined together in
the hot pursuit, and followed the
miserable object with bare, begrim-
med feet and hatless head, that
fitted along before them with a
speed which only fear could lend
to one SO worn and wretched-a
speed which kept the crowd a long
way off and made the burliest of
his pursuers pant for breath.
They were out of sight in a mo-
ment, but in a little while the cry
was heard that the thief had baf
fled them, and some amongst the
crowd rushed back to see if. their
prey had doubled ON his track ;
and others, sulky and indignant
with the result of their useless
chase, came back muttering angri-
ly or swearing, with many violent
oaths, that they would have him
yet. One policeman, well-fed
fellow with a crimson face, made
quite a hero of himselfb by asserting
that he knew the fellow, and would
trap him before sundown. There
was a good deal of sympathy ex-
pressed for the gentleman who had
lost his pocket handkerchief, but
none that l could hear for the poor
degraded wretch who had parloin-
ed it, until a placid voice at my
elbow uttered the following words
apparently in soliloquy: r
"Well, | may be wrong, but [
somehow hope they won't catch
him"
| turned in surprise, and con-
fronted our grocer, on whose steps
l had sought shelter from the
crowd, which, at such a moment,
could not be expected to think
much of the safety of a woman.
Our grocer was a portly man,
with shining bald head, fringed
by a ring of white hair, like the
tonsure of a Roman Catholic priest,
and wearing at the moment a Hol-
land apron and short blue jack
ct. 4..se
"Yes'm," he went on, 81 really
hope the miserable starved looking
creature will get OIL. o
"Then you don't believe he pick
ed the gentleman's pocket?" said /.
Sim afraid its only too certain
that he did, ma'am, said the man,
shaking his head. "He looked
straight at me as he passed, and
his hungry, desperate eyes looked
like theft, and murder, too, for
that matter"
"And yet you wish him to es-
cape, when he has broken the laws
of the land, and will probably do
soagain?" "a
"God forbid that / should help.
to break the laws" said the old
grocer. aGood men made them,
and they are right; but there are
other laws that / read in my old
Bible Sunday nights that seem to to
be as binding. One Of them is,