The Tipton advertiser. [volume] (Tipton, Cedar Co., Iowa) 1856-1962, 1876-03-16
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81 haven't had anything to eat this
whole day! Won't you please give
me ten cents?"
| Igave it to him. I'd have given
him the money if it had been neces-
sary to pawn my hat.
"Do you let impostors swindle you
in that manner" inquired acquaint-
ance.
| A journalist who has knocked
around for dozen years has seen
every phase of human life. Men,
women and children have swindled
him, or sought; people have lied to
him; his money has been given to
whining, lying vagrants who told
direful tales Of distress, and he ought
to be able to correctly read human
nature.
"I'll bet that boy is an professional
beggar," continued my friend, chuck
ling at the idea of my being swim
died.
None of US care for the loss OF
shinplaster on the street, while every
one feels vexed and annoyed at the
idea Of being swindled out of q single
penny. / could not say that the boy
was not swindler, and yet | would
have divided my last shilling with
him.
"Why?"
told my friend why, and ! will
tell you.
One day last year when the wind
blew the snow over the house roofs
and around the corners in binding
clouds, and wheE the frosty air cut
ones face like knife, boy came up
to me as l waited for the car. He
was thinly clad, his face betrayed
hunger and suffering, and, in mourn
full voice he pleaded:
"I'm hungry and cold!"
"Why don't you 60 home?'
asked.
| 81 haven't any!"
| Haven't you any relatives2"
"Not one!"
"How long have you been here"
| "Three week."
! The boy spoke in that growl which
professional beggars assume. ! be-
lieved, too, that l had seen his face
on the streets time and again. /
hardened my heart and said
"Boy! know you, and If / catch
you asking any one for money again
I'll have you arrested"
He moved away quickly. Iargued
that this proved guilt, forgetting that
homeless, friendless waif might
evince fear when entirely innocent.
Five hours later, when night had
come and the wind had grown to q
fierce gale, the boy halted me again
as l plunged through the snow-drifts.
| did not see him until he called out:
"Mister!' I'm almost starved, and
I'll freeze to death If can't get some
place to sleep"
The same thin, ragged clothes,
hardly comfortable enough for June
weather; the same whine to his voice.
felt like giving him money, but the
fear that he had been sent out by his
parents to beg restrained and an
gered me. Catching him by the arm,
l yelled out:
"See here, boy, if you don't own
up that you are lying to me I'll take
you to the ststion"'
Through the binding storm l saw
his face grow paler, and he cried
back:
"Don't take me--don't! Yes, I
was lying"
released him and he hurried away
while walked on, hattering myself
that I had played sharp game and
done the generous public good turn.
An hour later, when the night had
grown still wilder and colder, some
one knocked at my door. 1t was q
timed knock, and | wondered who
could have sent child abroad on
such night. When | opened the
door that same boy was on the step,
his face blue with cold, his whole
form shivering, and look of despera.
ton in his eyes.
"Please, Mister" he began, but
stopped when recognizing me.
l was puzzled to know why he
should have followed me home-why
he had selected me for victim and
trailed me so persistently. might
have argued that the storm had driv-
en- people off the streets, and that the
freezing, starving boy had in his des-
peration called at the house, but
didn't. Had it been any other boy,
or any other person asking charity
would have given promptly and free
ly. But was angry at his trailing
me-angered that he thought he
could swindle me, and | grabbed at
him and inquired:
"Boy, what is your name?"
| He leaped back, and, standing
where the furious storm almost buried
him from sight, he answered:
| "Gilw
81 know you, sir" l shouted, and
he moved without another word.
May the Lord forgive me for that
nights work! but you might have
acted the same. When morning came
after a night SO bitter that policemen
r IL 4