New Orleans Republican. [volume] (New Orleans, La) 1867-1878, 1870-07-17
THE DEATH OF 10.
BY CHARLES DICKENS.

10 is very glad to see his old friend, and
saws, when they are left alone, that he takes
it uncommon kind as Mr.. Snagsby should
come SO far ont Of his way on account OF
SIGH as him. Mr.. Snagsby, touched by the
spectacle before him, Immediately lays
upon the table half a crown-that magic
balsam of his for all kinds of wounds.
"And how do you find yourself, my poor
lad!" inquiries the stationer, with his cough
of sympathy.
81 am in luck, Mr.. Snagsby, am" re-
turns 10, "and don't want for nothink. I'm
more cumfbler nor You can't think, Mr..
Snagsby! I'm very sorry that done it,
but didn't 60 for to do it, sir"
The stationer softly lays down another half
sorry for having done!
''Mr. Snagsby," says 10, II went and give
illness to the lady as wos and Wit as
warn't the tother lady, and none Of 'em
never says nothing to me for having done it,
on accounts Of their being ser good and my
having been s'unfornet. The lady come
herself and see me yesday, and she SEES,
1Ah, JOr she ses, we thought we'd lost
you, JOv' she ses. And she sits down a
smilin' SO quiet, and don't pass a word nor
Wit look upon me for having done it, she
don't, and turns agin the wall docs, Mr.
Snagsby. And Mr.. flanders, l see him
a-forced to turn away his own self. And
Mr.. WOodc0t he come fur to give me some
think fur to ease me, wOt he's allus a-dOin
on day and night and wen he come a-bendin
over me and a-speakin up SO bold, l see his
tears a-fallin, Mr.. Snagsby."
The sOftened statlOner deposits another
half crcSu on the table. Nothing less than
a repetition of that infallible remedy would
relieve his feelings.
''Wot l wos a-thinkin on, Mr.. Snagsby,"
proceeds 10, "wOs, as you wOs able to write
very large, p'raps"
'Yes, 10, please God," returns the sta
toner.
"Uncommon precious large, p'raps!"
sayed 10, with eagerness.
Yes, my poor boy"
10 laughs with pleasure. "WOt wos a
thinking on then, Mr.. Snagsby, wos, that
when / wOs moved on as fur as ever / could
70 and couldn't be moved no furder,
whether you might be SO good, p'raps, as to
write out, very large, so that anyone could
see it anywheres, as that wos very truly
hearty sorry that done it, and that though
I didn't know nothing at all, knowd as
allus grieved over it, and that hoped ms
he'd be able to forgive me in his mind. If
the writin could be made to say it very
large, he might"
ut shall say it, 10: Very large"
10 laughs again. 'Thankee, Mr.. Snagsby.
HI very klllu VI NOu, SIT, ana II makes more
me cumfbler nor was afOre."
The meek little stationer, with broken
and unfinished cough, slips down his fourth
half crown-he has never been SO close to a
case requiring SO maryland is tain to de-
part And 10 and he, upon this little earth,
shall meet no more. No more.
For the cart SO hard to draw, is near its
journeys end, and drags over stony ground.
All round the clock it labOrs up the broken
hot nd
times can the sun rise and behold it still
upon its weary course.
Phil Squod, with his smoky gunpowder
visage, at once acts as nurse and works as
armOrer at his little table in a corner, often
looking round, and saying, with nod of
his green baize cap, and an encouraging
elevation of his one eyebrow, Hold up, my
boy! Hold upm There, too, is Mr.. JaIn.
dyce. many a time, and Allan Woodcourt
almost always; both thinking much how
strangely fate has entangled this rough out
cast in the web of very different lives
There too. the trooper is a frequent visitor
filing the door with his athletic figure, and
from his superfluity of life and strength
seeming to shed down temporary vlgOr upon
10 who never fails to speak more robustly
in answer to his cheerful words.
10 is in a sleep or in stupOr to-day, and
Allan WOOdcourt, newly arrived, stands 10y
After while he softly sits himself upon
the bedside with his face toward him-jusl
as he sat in the law writer's room-and
touches his chest and heart. The cart had
very nearly given up, but labors Oh little
more.
The trooper stands in the doorway, still
and silent. Phil has stopped in low clink
ing noise, with his little hammer in his
hand. Mr.. WoOdcourt looks round with
that grave professional interest and atten
ton on his face, and, glancing significantly
at the trooper, signs to Phil to carry his
table out. When the little hammer is next
used, there will be a speck of rust upon it
well. 10! what is the matter! Don't be
frightened"
Il thought" says 10, who has started and
is looking round, II thought was in Tom
all-Alones again. Amt there nobody here
but you, Mr.. Woodcot 2"
Nobody"
AAnd amt took back to Tom-all -Alone's
am sir!"
'.NO."