Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1881-06-29
BURIED BY THE PARISH.

"Job Scudder, for Gods sake, don't
refuse mer'
''My good woman, I've told you once
and for all amt got the money"
"Don't say that, Job; you're rich;
everybody knowsyou are. 'Tisn't much
ask. Lend me five pounds TO save Tim
being buried by the parish, and I'll work
my fingers to the bone, III starve, but
I'll pay you back, job
Mr.. Job Scudder shook his head.
Cant do it, 1 tell you. Very sorry.
There's my bell. Good afternoon
Job Scudder went quickly up the pas
sage of the hotel at which he was head
waiter, and left Mrs. O'Sullivan stand
ing at the door. He did not go so quick
~, however, as to lose the parting address
which was sent after him.
Ny curse upon you, Job Scudder
Maybe you'll come to be buried by the
parish yourself, in spite OF all your grand
airs now.''
fPoor dear, it 'ud break his heart if
he knew" she exclaimed, as she confded
her sorrows to the parish officer, 4" for he
was always proud 'un, was Tim. All,
it's hard as him as has been so free with
his money, and helped so many when he
could, shouldn't have a friend to help
him now"
It was hard. No one who knew Tim
O'Sullivan's story would deny it. When
he was head waiter at the big chop-house
in the city he was thought great deal
of and looked up to. The customers
always believed that he came down in a
brougham, and the story got about that
when his employer, weu-known caterer,
was hard up, Tim, the head waiter,
would lend him few thousands to 60 on
with. At any rate, Tim was character
in the city, and must have made very
good income, and he had considerable
influence, for a word of recommendation
from him was the best reference young
waiter could have.
Many and many kind deed was cred
tied to O'Sullivan, and none kinder per-
haps than his conduct to young Job
Scudder. Jobs father was an under
waiter at the chop good fellow,
but given to pot buttons and impecuni-
osity. These two things managed to
settle the elder Scudder between them,
and when he died his widow was found
to be penniless and consumptive, and
quite unable to do anything for Job
junior.
Mr.. O'Sullivan came to the rescue; he
heard of the deplorable state of affairs;
he got up subscription among the Gus
toners for Mrs. Scudder, and he took
Job on, gave him suit of clothes, and,
first as boy, and afterward as waiter, en-
ployed him at the restaurant, made a
smart waiter of him, and presently got
him berth in 6rst-class hotel, where
the position was good, and the tips were
large enough to make a poor curate's
mouth water.
Job Scudder got on, and O'SulEvan
lost sight of him for time; when they
met again the wheel of fortune had re-
volved for both of them. It was when
Job was head waiter at one of the best
hotels in Midland county, that shah
by old gentleman applied to him for the
position of coffee waiter, which was va
cant, and at the first words the men rec
ognized each other.
1t was Tim O'Sullivan who was apply
ing to Job Scudder for assistance.
Job took him on. 1t was while they
were together at this hotel Job learned
the story of his patrons fall.
O'Sullivan had saved large sum of
Us
his employer with occasional loans was
quite true. After some twelve years
service at this famous restaurant. Mr.
O'Sullivan had amassed in salary, dou-
ceurs, presents, etc., the very respects
bic sum of G5, 900, of which his en-
ployer had borrowed half, at five per
cent.
But by and by things began to go
IL 4 4
People travelled, and brought home for
eign ideas of eating. Chops and steaks
and homely English fare, served in high
boxes like pews, began to pail upon the
taste of a new generation, and right and
left of the old houses there sprang up
restaurants all gilt and glitter and glass,
where the dishes were French, the wait
ers German, and only the brandy and
cigars supplied at the counter British.
Young ladies, with golden hair and cher
ry bows smirked and smiled behind those
counters as an extra attraction, and the
golden youth of the city deserted the
high pews and the old fashioned walters
for the gaily decorated tables, the golden
haired sirens and the tempting Partisan
cookery of the rival establishments.
When custom began to fall of, and
only few old fogies were left, O'Sull-
vans employer began to pull long face
and talk about retiring, and he spoke to
his head waiter aboutit. They had sew
eral conversations on the matter, and at
last it was decided that the business
should be sold.
1t was got rid of eventually for fail
price, all things considered. The pro.
prietor retired to the country, and Tim,
who had been repaid out of the proceeds
of the sale, found himself with $4,000
and nothing to do.
You know the old proverb about Satan