The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1880-12-16
AN ANGEL FROM PARADISE

Virginia New Chronicle: I'm
roarin' ripsnorter from hoorah camp,
and | can't be stepped on, remarked a
thick set, white eyed man, with lower
jaw like the cow-catcher of locomotive,
as he staggered into G street saloon
aud thumped the bar with his fist until
the glasses iingled.
The barkeeper caught whisky bottle
that was just tumbIing off the bar ana
told the stranger that he needn't make
so much noise about it, as nobody want
ed TO step on him.
''You bet they don't, young feller.-
I'm an Angel from Paradise Valley, and
bad one, too; and when l flop my
wings there's tornado loose. Give me
some o your meanest whisky, and
whole lot of it-something that tastes
like humble bee stings picked in vitrol. "
While the bar-keeper was hunting
around for some fusel oil, and rubbing a
glass with red-pepper, a group around
the stove surveyed the stranger curious
ly. A thin gentlemen with a bulging
forehead, and dyspeptc look said to
the others: ''Now there's an illustration
of what | was saying. That fellow would
have no moral courage whatever were he
put to the test. If he were challenged
to fight without cause he could not attain
the sublime hei ght OF moral heroism to
refuse. He would be afraid of being
called q coward; but, mind you, he
would never brag and bully unless be
thought he had the advantage. You see
he is stout man and presumes upon his
physical superiority to most men to bully
and blackguard them. Now Bill here is
stronger than that blow-hGrd, but you
never see him i'll q fight. He's quiet;
but get him started, and he would be
lion aroused. He's got moral courage"
The 'tBill' referred to was tall, pow
erfully built man, with steel-gray eyes
and firmly set mouth. He said nothing
in reply to the compliment paid him,
but quietly watched the Angel from Par
adise. The latter drank his whisky and
smashed his glass on the bar. ''What in
do yer mean by giving gentleman
such stuff as that? Did [ ask yer for rim
sins, yeh chicken livered whelp? I've got
graveyard full of roosters that played
that racket on me. I've got mind to
fan the air with yer CORPSE"
"Now, get out Of this said the bar
keeper, becoming angry.
"Get out o nothin'. Gimme drink,
and all you starved buns around the
stove come up here and haYe drink
with thoroughbred high-stepper for
once, just to say ye'ye drank in decent
company, It'll be an honor to tell yer
children about it some day, if such an
ornery lot O. cusses own any children
Now, waltz up lively and take yer medi-
cine"
"Don't care for anything; thank you,"
said the dyspeptic philosopher quietly.
"Yeh don't? Well, l tell yeh to take
suthin. | hold the age in this game, and
when [ chip everybody comes in. Ante
up to the bar, now, and look pleasant
Great Scott Yeh need suthin in yer
belly to balance that swelled head O.
yourn. Come up, therest O. you buns"
Nobody stirred, but all looked at the
dyspeptic, who quietly said: ''We will
not drink with you"
"No? It'd be cheaper for yeh to crawl
into prospect hole and pull tombstone
over yer head. I kin lick the whole
town from hell to breakfast, and be-
lieve I'll start in on this deadfall.-
Whoop! I'm a-cOmin'!'
In about two minutes the bevel headed
admirer Of moral courage was dilapi-
dated piece Of brio Il brac, the big man
called Bill was sopping cold water on
his eye in the back room, and the rest
OF the crowd scattered about the place in
various stages of discouragement, while
the Angel from Paradise was standing
on q billiard-table and shouting:-
where's the rest of yer population2
Trot out Yer cohorts and fetch out the
mob. I'm an Angel from Paradise, aud
holy terror when [ flop my wings. l
swallowed cyclone for breakfast and
powder mill for lunch, and haven't be-
gun to cough yet. Where's the popu-
lace of this broken down chicken ranch?
I'm not myself tonight"