The Republican journal. [volume] (Belfast, Me.) 1829-current, 1877-06-21

We belonged to the surplus population,
jim and |, but We did not know it. The
| big world into which we came was crowd
ed to overtioWing with just such punny,
| unwashed, ll-ted little wretches us we
were: but we didn't know it, and So we
came unconscious into the sunless, tenn
ing alley, where countless others like our
selves herded. We didn't know we We're
Il problem, jim and |; we didn't know
that we and our kind We're battling the
| wisdom of statesmen, jim and |; but If
we had known all about it, | doubt if we
could have occupied the situation more
| philanthropically. We slept us quietly in
| the underground cellar, down whose oozy
steps the rain and rain OF years made
| slippery passage, OF bestowed ourselves
Us naturally as need be, under some
| stranded wagon OF cart, as If it were pre-
cisely the thing heaven had adapted us
for from the beginning
Jim was older and bigger than |; a
tall, likely lad fifteen of these hardening
and toughening years had made him keen
and 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 papers of
til ttiltl W. otllC W lOph tlllCl lllN,
and We took supper together out of the
same bowl OF porridge
Jim wasn't my brother, oh no. | used
to wish he was my brother, though SOME
times just because | was 50 proud of him.
The old man that kept that cellar, YOU
see, had picked Jim up from somewhere
when his folks died, and picked Inc up
from somewhere when my folks died, and
SO we had somehow fallen together all
| alone.
just down beyond the jog Of our alley,
where it turned Il sort of gray corner, and
WAS darker and dirtier than ever. just
there stood an old gray church, with a
clock in the toWer-an old, old mossy
church, and an old, old clock that had
passed its withered hand over its wizened
face, and looked sleepily through them
down into our alley, on one side, and in
to Il busy noisy thoroughtare on the
other. The old clock had doZed there
| till its head was all on one side, and you
couldn't be sure whether it told the right
story or not: but of a summer afternoon,
when it WAS getting quite dusk down i'll
our alley, 4 red ray from the setting sun
used to settle for minute right on the
face of the sleepy old clock; then it would
seem to rouse up out OF IL pleasant dream,
and strike the hour us sharp as need be,
and then | knew it was time to 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 mat
ter, and we'd set off for Il stroll together
"a stroll to the wllarNes.
We generally hunted the wharves, Jim
| and | whom "a went Mica lnrV
We're grand, the Wharycs, so busy: so al
together different from our alley, with
the ships crowded round them, and the
1Iuttering flags here and there on the
masts and the busy sailors getting in
trcights. Sometimes Jim would get Il job
for half an hour, and leave me lurking
among the cotton bales or sitting solitary
in some safe corner till he came back.
He always came back. And then some
times he would lingcr about there till
nightfall. Then the wharf was silent and
solemn, and You could hear the water
rushing up against the great beams un-
derneath, and see here and there Il light
cleaning from some lone lantern among
the shrouds, and the gray water stretch
ing beyond, we know not whittier; and
if Jim and | had owned it all we could
not have loved it better.
But one day jim got a job that lasted
longer than usual and grew scared and
uneasy as night came on, and he didn't
come back. Wandering from the place
where he had set me, shy and iearsome
us 4 water-rat, but us determined, look
ed for him every where, but i'll vain; then
| went back to my post, for hadn't he
said, as he always said, "Dont be afraid,
Jenny. III come back, for sure, you
know And then | waited, till finally |
fell asleep among the bales and barrels
and forgot my troubles.
In the morning, a forlorn and desolatc
little creature enough, | learned from
some compassionate 'longshoremen that
the ship where Jim had been at work had
sailed away with him aboard. A wild
and passionate burst Of weeping greeted
this news, and a pitful throng of people
gathered about me-'reig ghtmen and sail
ors mostly, but among them suddenly APP
peared the face of a Quaker lady, who
was distributing books among the sailors.
They told her my tale, and seeing me
utterly friendless, she wiped my tear
stained face with her white handkerchief,
and took me away had no friends
was no better than a masterless dog, and
worth far less. But she took me to Il
great clean, bare and quiet place-;tn in
stituton they called t-where there were
many others ashomeless and wretcheu as
L. And there they washed me, and made
me SO clean and fresh that ] thought that
the real me, the ragged, reu-eyed, un-
kempt surplus atom of humanity that
had been Inc, was gone away over the
seas with jim, and this rosy checked
child was another me, newly come into
the world.
Then one day there came II grand and
stately lady, who took me away to live
with her, and be her own little girl The
lady wore shining silks, and lived in a
splendid house, and had a lad in q velvet
Jacket who was about as big us Jim. 1t
was like strange bright dream if could
have only forgotten Jim. But could not
Jim was surplus population no longer
perhaps he was drowned his ragged
jacket and crownless hat might be buried
now away down under the sea. Nobody
about me now wore patched shoes or
troWsers out at the knees, and nobody, it
seemed to me, not even Louis, who was
SO KIND to me, even he, had an eye as
bright us .)im's, or a hand us warm. And
so | never forgot jim, but always in my
heart OF hearts | seemed listening and
waiting for him.
Sometimes ! used to lure Louis down
to the wharves, and always when walk
ed by myself my steps turned thither-
ward, and thus it was that | never lost
sight OF the ships, and dimly, family, un-
reasonably, looked for the return of jim.
But it began to be years since dear old
Jim went away, and Louis was tall
youth home from college, and | was
well, folks called me q young lady, and
said that | would marry Louis some day.
And perhaps they might have been right;
but how could | be a lady, you know
with an old straw hat and ragged jack
ct slowed away in my heart? Even after
| grew up had fits of silent fretting for
jim that seemed as if they would eat my
life away. Mrs. Belden said it was be-
callSe | WAS OrOWinU and she took mo