Buchanan County bulletin. [volume] (Independence, Iowa) 1869-1891, 1876-04-14

A LAZY MAN We were privileged to
be present at a late social gathering where
the conversation happened to turn upon
laziness. Each member of the circle had
something to offer upon the general topic,
and many traditional and modern, as well
as ludicrous instances of the vice were re-
lated and heartily laughed over When
it came to our "put in, we could think
of nothing more appropriate than the toll
lowing narrative of actual fact, which we
had from parties who were frequent wit
nesses of the scene herein related. From
our own acquaintance in after years with
the principal actor-or rather lay figure
in the story, we can vouch for the truth
fulness with which his characteristics are
drawn in it.
now the splendid city of Cleveland was
"old S." We can well remember his
homestead in fair meadow, enclosed in
the ox-bow of the Cuyahoga River, pre-
senting from the hills above it an enchant-
ing picture of pastoral loneliness; but now
densely packed with railroad depots, lum-
Der yards, oil refneries, &c. Mr.. S. was
a little, fat, oily man, with short, dumpy
legs, small head, covered with shock of
white hair, a sleepy eye, a fair, round
belly, and an air of general languor and
repose. In the carly days of Cleveland's
history, before the invention of the rail
road or telegraph, and before anybody
had begun to dream of the commercial
future of the city, Mr.. S. had a small
store on Main street, filled with the usual
variety of goods kept in country stores.
With the running of this establishment,
owing to his constitutional disinclination
to exertIon of any kind, he had little to
do except to receive the profits. The
whole care Of it was in the hands of a
faithful, Woodworking drudge, who was
sole clerk, book keeper, &c, But the
clerk had to go to dinner once day, and
at these times the store was left in charge
of the proprietor. During the absence of
his factotum, old S., mounted on IL dry
goods box by the door, and, with his eyes
half closed, his queer little mouth puck
cred for a quiet whistle, his pudgy legs
reaching half way to the ground, and his
heels keeping time to the music of his lips,
would present rs perfect picture of case
and contcntment as was ever limned by
any artist. If no customers came, this
would be kept up till the clerk came back
and relieved guard. But Mr. 5. was not
always undisturbed in his INDECENT medi-
tations. Customers would come, and one
pert servant maid comes tripping down
the street, stops before the door, and cast
ing a look, first into the store, and then at
the dumpy figure on the box, says:
Mr.. S., want to get clothes line"
The soft whistle ceases, the tattoo stops,
the slumbrous eyes turn upon the intruder,
and then gurgles up from the fatty depths
the answer:
Haint got any,
The girl, with nervous twitch, again
turns her restless eyes upon the interior of
the store, and after moment eagerly
cXclaims:
"Why, yes you have Mr.. S. see n
clothes line hanging on that post"
Again the eyes slowly open, the Fuckers
subslde from around the curious little
mouth, and the final answer comes, drawl-
ingly:
"'Taint f sale"
The little mouth resumes its pucker, the
heels fall into time, the music begins, the
heavy lids sink over the lustrcless orbs,
and the girl goes off with sniff.