The Andrew County Republican. [volume] (Savannah, Mo.) 1871-1876, 1876-10-05
JIM.

We belonged to the surplus popula-
ton, Jim and |, but we did not know
it. The big world into which we came
was crowded to overlooking with just
such puny, unwashed, i'll fed wretches
as We were, but we didn't know it, and
so we came unconscious into the sun
less, teeming alley, where countless
others like ourselves herded. We didn't
know we were a problem, Jim and i;
we didn't know that we and our kind
were battling the wisdom of statesmen,
Jim and |; but if we had known all
about it, l doubt il we could have occu-
pied the situation more philosophically.
We slept as quietly in the underground
cellar, down whose oozy steps the rain
and ruin of years made slippery pas.
sage, or bestowed ourselves rs natural
ly, if need be, under some stranded
way-side cart, as if it were precisely
the thing Heaven had adapted us for
from the beginning.
Jim was older and bigger than l; a
tall, likely lad, fifteen of these harden
ing and toughening years had made
him keen AMI sharp as a terrier, and
just the lad to look after a forlorn waif
of a little girl like myself. And Jim,
after he had BACKED boots all day, or
sold newspapers of an afternoon, was
sure to look after me, and we took sup
per together out of the same bowl of
porridge.
Jim wasn't my brother, oh no! l
used to wish he was my brother though,
sometimes, just because ! was so proud
of him.
The old man that kept the cellar, you
see, had picked Jim up from somewhere
when his folks died, and picked me up
from somewhere when my folks died,
and SO we had somehow fallen together
all along.
just down beyond the jog of our
alley, where it turned a sort of gray
corner, and was darker and dirtier than
ever-just there there stood an old gray
church with a clock in the tower; an
old, old messy church, and an old, old
clock that passed its withered hands
over its wizened face, and looked sleeps
ly through them down into our alley on
one side, and into a busy, noisy thor
oughfare or the other. This old clock
had dozed there till its head was all on
n side, and you couldn't be sure
whether it told the right time or not
but of a summer afternoon, when it was
getting quite dusk down in our alley, a
red ray from the setting sun used to set
tie for a minute right down on the face
of the sleepy old clock; then it would
seem to rouse up out of a pleasant
dream, and strike the hour as sharp as
need be, and then knew it was time Ia
look out for Jim. I'd see him turn the
corner, with his old straw hat on, and
his patched shoes, or barefoot maybe,
for that matter, and we'd set of for a
stroll together-a stroll to the wharyes
II We generally haunted the wharyes,
Jim and l, when we went a-pl~easuring
They were so grand, the wharves, sc
busy, the wharves, so full of light ant
fresh air, the w~harves, so altogether
different from II alley, with the ships
crowding around them, and the flutter
ing flags here and there on the masts
and the busy sailors getting in freights
Sometimes jim would get a job for hal
an hour, and leave me lurking among
the cotton bales, or sitting solitary il
some safe corner till he came back. II,
always came back. And then some
times we would linger about there til
night-fall. Then the wharf was solemn
and silent, and you could hear the wa
ter rushing up against the great beam
underneath, and see here and there
light cleaning from some lone lanterl
among the shrouds, and the gray waite
stretching beyond, we knew not width
err; and If jim and had owned it all
WI couldn't have loved it better.
But n day Jim got a job that lastc
onger than usual, and l grew scare