The state rights democrat. [volume] (Albany, Linn County, Oregon) 1865-1900, 1869-10-16
GOING HONE.

IneaNllN against the NiuuoNS anu Tit
wind howled in the ehimneys-a nigh
when not a star was visible, when the
flashlights hickered and futtered in {
misty, uncertain manner, and thepave'
Iment was covered with u greasy az.
glutination of slime and mud-a night
when sudden gusts took pedestrians
most of. their feet, and sent the
binding drizzle into their faces till
they could hardly see their way; when
umbrellas were myth, and water
proofs u fond delusion; and light
fog, strongly suggestive of sore throats
and rheum tism, hung over the marshy
districts of Hondon..
Three o'clock i11 the morning, and
on Waterloo Bridge silence over the
great city-the great dark hive that
loomed so grimly against the leaden
Isky, while the busy brains OF ever
restless men kept feverish watches
through the small hours.
Not n sound save the splash, splash
OF the river, as it swept under the
cold stone arches, sucking and licking
the piers with It's fetia, hungry
tongues the distant rumble OF o
IL rket-wagon or Il hone-returning
cab; or the chimes OF the city churches,
telling how time was passing away.
/ And q woman, weary and foot-sote,
with garments that hardly protected
/ her from the rain, shawl so thin and
ragged that itrequired al the strength
/ Lett in her long, lean arms 20 prevent
its being blown away. offered n silver
ithree-pence TO the toll-man at the gate
/ 4 bright ire was blazing in the 1T
+ tie room-cosy and warm il looked
compared with the dreariness without /;
and the man as he held his coat tight
up to his neck TO shield him from the
piercing blast, looked askance nj the
wayfarer who had interrupted him.
he was used to these tramps; thcT
would sleep III the receases OF the
bridge on shc warm summer nights
ay, and IL me bitter winter. too, they
|sWaImed on the water steps, where
they lay hu,ldled together, loath-
some, hiQeous mass. he had grown
quite accustomed TO the tide oI hu-
man misery tLas crept so clos ly 10
the dark, silent river. Did they think,
those poor o1Ic&5ts Of humanity, thas
when lie was TOO hard even To- them
to bear, there was rest beneath those
cold, turgid waters, q home somewhere
below their StySlan obscuri.y?
He vas wont 10 see all phases Of
sublunary wretchedEess an vice; yes
something II tbs wo,nan's. hurried
manner, added to the Iatenoss OF the
hour. caused him 10 look closely a.
her before delivering her change. She
didn't seem exactly like q pauper !;
there were signs of the white, scared
face, whose outline lie could scarcely
catch through the dark wavy hair,
which was pushed IL such disorder be-
meath the faded bonnet.
He was a kind-hearsed man. one who
had gone through suffering himself.
cts bad night Tor you 70 be out
IN, M girl; q terrible bad night"
TIE oman drew her shawl tighter
round her shiyeIing form.
"Iou needn't tell me That, she re-
piled with q ghassly smile II know
that as well as YOU
Take care you don't get blown over
the bridge, returned the man; . there's
wind enough to do IT, .
"There's 10 such luck. resortad
she bitterly. Death don't come to
those who seek it. +"
"WelI, it's o bad lookout when one
wants to seek i. / suppose you're
going home ?"
The woman drew herself up.
whats that TO you ?" Bne farod
out. ''What business is it Of yours
where I'm going? Can't you give
me the money and let me 60, and not
keep me here IL this villainous rain 2"
..Weu, you needn't be 80 sharp.
Surely d fellow could ask o civil cues
ton without being snapped up like
that. It amt no matter to ne where
you goes
.Then what did you ask for q she
retorted impatiently, taking the cop
pers !; then, as if she regretted her
rudenegs, she said more gently: Yes,
- am going home, If that will satisfy
YOU. sucn a home as it is. Good night,
old fellow.
The wind and rain shut the door for
him; and the wind and rain beat
against the dollhouse windows, like
angry spirits clamorous for entrance ];
and the wind and the rain sent The
poor Wanderer far on to the bridge out
of his SIGHT.
He SAT down again in his wooden
arm chair beside the genial fire. He
could not rest, however, but started
Ineryously as the north wind howled
louder round his little cabin, or a
sound to which his fancy gave q hid
eous shape fell on his listening ear.
Twice he rose, and dpeered out through
the misty panes Of glass that constitu-
ted the dollhouse windows, as if he
could see any hing but the drops. of
rain that trickled In miniature rivu1ets
down the dim transparency !; as if he
could see anything but the murky
dal kness, the bitter, cruel night.
Il wish I'd follered her, " he NUT
tered to himself I'm blest if / don't.
It's queer to me il she amt rum un;
but, dash it! what's feller to do?"
He couldn't run after every tramp
that chose to go over the bridge, he
thought. With this reflection he en-
deayored to soothe the uneasy mind
/ that would not aIIGw him to ba a+