Whig and tribune. [volume] (Jackson, Tenn.) 1870-1877, 1873-04-26
THE ATTIC LODGER.

having Dotn presented Win LlCkcLe
by y theatrical lodger, he went 10
spend an evening with Shakespeare.
"he ain't like In his face, though
said Mrs. TobaccOnist, "his clothes
tit too good, Mr.. Smith, that's all"
1t was an acute remark; Mr..
Smiths clothes did fithim too good,
inasmuch as they were a few sizes
too small for him. As for business,
he seemed TO have none. At noon
he went out for a loaf of bread and
a pitcher of beer. After twelve
O'Clock he disappeared until mid
night, when he let himself in with
a lateh-key and went TO bed without
4 candle.
"And for all he told any one n
bout himself" said the tobacconist's
wife, "he might have been a ghost" !"
''But he's civil spoken" said the
tailOr's wife, to whom he always
said, Excuse me, me'am," when he
found her aflOat on the staircase, in
a puddle of soap and water, which
always made the black boards black
er than before, and was obliged TO
wade through the flood with bread
and beer. And the tailor's wife,
who had lived at service in her
youth, even ventured to hint to her
husband that she thought Mr.. Smith
was q gentleman. However, this
fancy the tailor crushed with a
curse, "Gentlemen don't wear any
such coat as that Sally"
Poor little tailor, he sat cross-leg-
ged on his board and stitched and
measured men by their coats. Ifhe
had measured or even mended more
coats, it would have been better for
him and his brood. Times seemed
to grow worse, custom less, the
money harder TO get. When the
little man read in his mornings pa
per of men who had shot themselves,
or take laudanum, he wondered
whether they had four children with
hearty appetites, and a prospect for
having nothing for them to eat some
day. Not that he thought OF kill
ing himself; besides he had been
told by his clergyman that suicide
was wicked; but he couldn't help
thinking. And that civil lodger in
the attic, how did he fare? One
night when Sally, who had been
mending and washing and ironing
aud patching the family rags all day,
was economically using up the fire
by baking loaf of bread in the
stove oven, she heard the lodger
come in. He went up stairs and
paced the floor. BE came out in the
entry and creaked on the stairs
He seemed as restless as a Gagged til
ger and he had behaved just so for
three nights, instead of retiring at
once, as the tailor's family knew he
generally did by the creakiug and
swapping of his bed stead.
"What can all him?" said Sally, as
she took her bread out of the oven
and prlcked it with q straw, finding
il done, "What can all him? Ihope
he amt sick nor nothing; he's so civ
IL, poor dear"
Then Sally listened again.
"I declare he's coming down."
she said. "He must be sick; and
there he is knocking-Iswl"
Then she opened the door.
The lid of the stove was of, and
the red light flashed upon q hungry
face with hollow checks and sun
ken eyes,
The gaunt hand stretched itself
out and voice said family:
MADAM, know you have Kind
heart, L am so hungry. It's three
days since L ate anything and l.
don't want to die"
~~ssLawi-I should think not" said
the woman. s'WhY, law me, Pm so
sorKyl And l suppose you can't get
1ob?-LaW why do take it. 1 amt
got nothing else. You see we're
pretty poor ourselves-and there
., laWl She was trembling. she did
not know why. She was thinking
to herself. -
'It's like = play It makes me
want to cry"
Then lie took the warm bread she
had given him in his nands, toaring
bits from II and eating it.
He backed away, still eating. he
came back and stretched his hands
towards her.
81 didn't thank You" he said
ssThaRk you'll THANK yOui" and went
away.
Sally sat down, trembling still.
TIE be out of q job, 20 be hungry,
were no rare things, and no tragic
things in her experience, but this
man had stirred her soul, somehow
frightened her, she said. "I hadn't
any business to give away loaf of
bread, but there now, couldn't
help it.
Then Sally went to bed and slept
and dreamed of the followed cheek,
famished lodger OF the attic.
There was more bread to make
next day, and am not sure but that
she had made an extra loaf, in sx-
pectation of another call from her
neigbor, but he did not come, and
in the course of time Sally had @
nough to think of without leaving
her own floor. Matters did not pros
per with the family. Little Lena
had the scarlet fever, and lay for a
long time at deaths door, and the
work with which the mother helped
to fill the family purse was necessa-
rily neglected, and her customers
grew angry and left her. Then the
baby died. Poor little babyl The
mother Wept bitterly. The father
also longed to weep, although chill
dren were expensive luxuries in
that poor household. Finally the
last afiiction fell upon the tailor-a
feIlon on his right thumb.
There was an end to it all, it SEEM
ed to beth. Nothing but the hospit-
al and the aims house before them.
The rent was quite unpaid at last,
and the tobacconist was in fury
He called to give him warning and
q piece of his nina On the morrow
out he should go neck and CROP
The tailor said nothing. The wife,
woman like, had her word.
esWhere shall we go?" she asked.
eve haven't penny in the world"
at is nothing to me where you
60" said the landlord, $50 that get
YOU out Of my rooms. want them
for honest people.
"We'er unfortunate, but we new
er mean to be dishonest" cried the
wife. 81 -
Then the husband in an angry
| word bade her hold her lounge.
s1t's all the same" he said, f'WeIl
20 to morrow. And now you go,
| Mr.. Landlord"
Then they were left alone. .bemoan-
ing their hard fate. There was alb
soIutely nothing to eat in the house.
sally looked at her empty.flour
barrel and her Wretched family, and
bursted into tears.
sIt's no use of trying any longer"
she said. ''If the Lord would only
take us. That's ali ask"
She put the children to bed and