The Tiffin tribune. (Tiffin, Ohio) 1868-1887, 1873-02-06


I and I grew dispirited, but still seTug-
gled on, a5 I had an inward nope 10
/ buoy me up.
/ "a year had passed since I left
/ Brenton. was sitting one evening by
the light Of tallow candle in the loft
oyer the store where / served in
day time, forlornly reading a week
old county paper, when q little chap
who in some way had attached him
selftO me, lchlldren almost always
take to me, don't know why, I'm
sure, brought me Z letter. It was
from BrentOn, from the girl to whom
/ was engaged, for whom l was work
ing, to whom l was clinging Gs =
drowning man ciings to q straw and
in it she discarded me, cOldly, briefly,
and without any explanation.
"FTOm that moment / went down
rapidly: I grew reckless. From one
end OF the country to the other wan
dered, nor cared where / went: now q
canal driver, now q bartender, now a
deck hand on Mississippi steam boat,
and for several years 4 miner in Cali
fornia, everything by turns, and moth
ing long. 1t seems to me that, when an
educated man goes to the bad, he goes
over more completely, and gets far
ther down than man brought up to
tit was 80 with me, 1 know. As
for my sisters, they could not help
me. Poor little Lutte was in her
gravel was fond of Lutte, after a
fashiOn-and Amelia had married q
clOse-fisted man, old enough TO be her
father; who Kept all his money in his
own hands, ana forbade her even to
write to her gOOd-fOr-nothing brother;
he was not far from the truth either, L
was good for nothing. But a man
never sinks out of Gods sight, and L
really believe il is He VINO sends q
chance every now and then to the
worst of his creatures. None of Us
can deny that such chances come,
whether we take them or not; and
this was mine. [ was tending bar in
a saloon out beyond st. Louis, when
happening to pick up an eastern pa
per, l saw a sensational account of
my old loves father, shot in mis- own
hall by a burglar; in the course of the
story Lucy was mentioned, and l
learned not only that she was unmar-
ried, but also that she was poor, living
III an obscure street L well remember
ed, and now by her fathers death, she
was left alone in the world. I fell
into 4 fit of musing; the flashy sa-
loon vanished, and il its place l
seemed to SEQ Lucy, not in the luxur-
ious homo that 1 remembered, not in
the rich dress that L used to admire,
not with the proud, fastidious air that
I admired when l too was proud and
fastidious; but Lucy, poor Lucy, in
Dingy street, friendless Lucy, pTOba-
bly, working for her bread. While 1
thought that she, proud, rich, and
happy, had discarded me because l
was poor, and worthless, ! hated her;
at least thought I did, for love and
hate are nearer than we believe. tAnd
yet, with loves incOngTuity, had all
the time kept that book showed you,
a thing in itself valueless, but her
gift; the poor little relic has been in
queer company considering its char
acter.)
GAS I said before, l thought hated
her; but when suddenly learned that
she was as bad off as 1 was, saving the
Wickedness, my whole heart went out
to her. Perhaps she still loved me;
! perhaps some outside influence had
made her write that letter which l
had so scorned to answer. At any
rate hope grew up for the first time
| in years; my life and its surroundings
grew vile in my sight, 1 hated myself
and it, and, dropping everything as u
snake drops its skin, bad habits, bad
associates and bad ideas, turned my
/ face eastward. l had just enough
money to take me to RrentOn with
close economy and not q cent TO spare,
what could do when I got there
did not know, but had ope,and a
mighty hope. Perhaps you do not
know what it is to live without hope
| in the world.
"But everything was harder than
thought; leaving of drinking shook
my nerves; felt miserably sick, and,
to crown all, one night, in the stage
coach, all my little store of money
was stolen, save few dollars hap
pened to have in my vest-pOeket.
5upPOso you think it strange that
YagabOnd like myself should not have
| learned enough in his vagahondizing
I to at least Keep his money. But
was a vagabond no longer; only
sick, trembling man, half starved too,
| to tell the truth, for l would scarcely
allow myself enough to eat. At the
end of that stage-rOute l struck the
railroad, and went on as far as / could,
travelling in the OsbOOse car of freight
trains, or among the freight itself, if
1 was lucky enough to get a chance;
eating as little as possible, and buOyed
up by my one hope. How / watched
my fOrlOrn old pursel How l count
ed every cent! But, in spite Of allImy
efforts, the end came, and found
myself in PittsbuTg, unable to go far
ther, ragged, pennIless, and starving.
1t was q dark, bleak afternoon in No.
vember, and 1 dragged myself from
place to place in search of employ
ment; but my appearance was against
me. l had no references, and, indeed,
L was in no state to work, as any one
could see.
"Night came, and stood in an al
Z ley leaning against wall, sick, shiv-
ering; but, worse than ali, gnawed by
hunger. On, it is a dreadful fate to be
homeless and destitute in a city
There seems to be no charity in
crowd, LO shelter in the clOsely-buiIt
streets, no mercy in the patches of
sky. The open country is kinder to
the poor than the richest city. If
lived in city, would never refuse
an aims to any one asking at night
dLl III W ALlLG4s Dulg dALIA eAAAf tl4l pau
dest cases are those who do net ask.
Hunger at last conquered all. l was
still young, and youth has not the
self-cOntrOl to starve to death. l knew
one family in PIttshurg-a Mrs, Lee,
who had often been in BrentOn with
her daughter, gentle girl, who had
known my sister Lutte in the old days.
I found the house and rang the bell |
! the servant hes itated about admit
! ting me, and waited on the step I'M
til Mrs. Lee came.
"'You do not remember me, Mrs.
Lee 1 said. 4 am Frederick HOl-
combe, of BrentOn; and l have come
/ to beg few dollars, for l am starv-
ing.'
"'Poor boy! poor boyu exclaimed
the old lady, recognizing me at once,
changed as 1 was. Come in, my
! dear; come in and taking my
hand, she led me into the lighted par
/ lor. Then I broke down, and the
tears came.
''That was q crisis in my life. They
/ fed me, they sOothed me, they pitied
me with a heavenly pity, they asked
DO questions, they made no COM
ments. I would not stay in their
I beautiful home, in spite or their urg-
ing, oUtcast that 1 was; but took
their money and went to q lodging
house, where / slept, and the next
morning, with their money, l bought
myself some decent clothes. Then I
went up to say good-by. This time I
told my story in q few words, and
asked for news from BrentOn.
"I am going there said, with a
rush OF confidence, 'to see Lucy Dar-
! rell.'
'The ladies looked a; each other,
and hesitated.
% She is still Lucy Darrell know
I said, almost savagely; for this was
/ my one hope on earth.
"'She is still Lucy Darrell, but she
will not be so long, answered Mary
Lee, at last; 4 feel that you ought to
I know she is to be married this week.
And the girls voice trembled as she
spoke; 1 suppose l looked deathly.
Well, 1 ought to have known as much,
! starting across the country on such q