The Superior times. [volume] (Superior, Wis.) 1870-1912, 1879-03-01
OLD POGER.
BY REBECCA HARDING DAVIS,

1t was late one afternoon in December
when John Webb left the train at way
side station in New Jersey.
"There is a stage to Seaport?n he
asked of the loungers on the platform.
Yes; there's Symes a-harnessin' up
the team now"
The team" consisted of a pair of
stout mules and an open wagon. Webb
hurries over to Symes. "What is your
fare?"
"Two dollars"
An old, decrepid man stood near pat
ting one of the mules. His bleared eyes
watered, and his thick under-lip trem-
bled with palsy.
" Not two dollars for a poor old beg
gar like me?" he whined. 1.-TWO dollars
for this boss here; but you won't charge
me nothin'. Hey, Mr. Symes?"
"Two dollars, tell you"
John Webb drew out his pocketbook
and took from it five dollar bill. 1t
was all he had. A month ago the firm
for which he acted as bookkeper had
failed, leaving him without work and
with very little money.
Webb was an educated man, full of
energy and courage. He was not
ashamed of any honest work which
would keep his wife and two little chill
dren from want; but the city was filled
with men like himself seeking employ
ment. He struggled on for a month,
the prospect growing darker with every
day. At the end of that time friend
wrote:
A district schoolteacher is needed
in Seaport, fishing village on the Jer-
sey coast. Go down and apply for the
place. The salary is small, but it is
better than nothing"
So john was on his way to Seaport
VIII five dollars in his pocket. He
handed it to the driver, who fumbled
in greasy leather bag for the change.
The old man patted Symes on the arm,
cycling the money hungryly.
You dear, good young man what a
lot of chink you nave! You'd not ask
two dollars from an old man totterin' to
his grave? Pm sick, an must get to
Seaport tonight, an if you don't give
me lift, I've got to walk"
Walk" said John. Glow far is
it, driver?"
Twenty miles"
An through the pine woods, with
hundreds of paths crossin' each other!"
cried the beggar, turning quickly to
John. IN die by the way! As God
sees me, l haven't a pennyw dragging
out his ragged pockets. I've not tasted
meat for months; I've eaten nothing
since yesterday but a crust of dry
breadn
"Can this be true?" asked John of
the driver
81 s'pose it is" grufly, sold Poger's
about the poorest man nigh Seaport.
The stage belongs TO a company, or I'd
give him lift. Come on, sir; I'm
ready"
John climbed into the wagon. 1t was
cold, clouded day, and snow was lying
on the ground. The wind was rising,
and blew in wild, fierce gusts across the
pine forest which stretched away before
them.
The old man buttoned his coat about
him, and with lettering steps followed
the wagon.
Webb turned his back that he might
not see him. He had but the three dol
lars
give half mind to walk and give
that old fellow my place" he said, with
an awkward laugh.
You can't do it, sir. There are
twenty zigzag roads crossing in the
pines You'd be lost in an hour. Be-
Sides He looked st Poger with a
significant laugh, and stopped suddenly.
They drove on. Webb looked back
again pleasantly. The lean, stopped fig
ure was still in sight, the long white hair
hanging over the tattered clothes.
My fathers hair was like that, +"
thought John, who had been a most low
ing son.
"Stop, Symes!" he said; al can't
stand this any longer. Take the old
man in; ! will pay for him"