Democratic messenger. [volume] (Snow Hill, Md.) 1869-1973, 1881-06-18
BURIED BY TIE PARISH.

sob Scudder, for Gods cake, DOM
refuse mer'
"My good woman, I've told you once
and for all 1 amt got the money"
"Don't say that, Job; you're rich;
everybody knows you are. 'Tisn't much
l ask. Lend me five pounds to save
Tim being buried by the parish, and I'll
work my fingers to the bone, Ill starve,
but I'll pay you back, Job.
Mr.. job Scudder shook his head.
"Can't 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
quickly, however, as to lose the parting
address which was sent after him.
"My curse upon you, Job Scudder
Maybe you'll come to be buried by the
parish yourself, in spite of all your
grand airs now."
''Poor dear, it 'ud break his heart il
he knew" she exclaimed, as she confided
her sorrows to the parish officer, 'for he
was always a proud 'un, was Tim. Ah,
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"
1t 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, well-known caterer,
was hard up, Tim, the head waiter,
would lend him few thousands to go
on with. At any rate, Tim was a char
acter in the city, and must have made a
very good income, and he had consider
able influence, for a word of recommen-
dation from him was the best reference
a young waiter could have.
Many and many a kind deed was
credited to O'Sullivan, and none kinder
perhaps than his conduct to young job
Scudder. Jobs father was an under
waiter at the chop good fellow,
but given to pot bottoms aid 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 a subscription among the
customers for Mrs. Scudder, and he took
Job on, gave him suit of clothes, and,
first as boy, and afterward as waiter,
81 he IL
a smart waiter of him, and presently got
him a berth in first-class hotel, where
the position was good, and the tips were
large enough to make poor curate's
mouth water.
Job Scudder got on, and O'Sullivan
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 a Midland county, that shabby
old gentleman applied to him fer the
situation of coffee-room waiter, which
was vacant, and at the first words the
men recognized 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 oi
money, and the rumor about his obliging
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 respect.
able sum of 1000, of which his en-
ployer had borrowed half, at five pei
cent.
But by and by things began to go queer
with the old-fashioned place. People
travelled. and brought home foreign 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 wereFrench, the walters German,
and only the brandy and cigars supplied
at the counter British. Young ladies,
with golden hair and cherry bows
smirked and smiled behind those coun.
ters as an extra attraction, and the
golden youth of the city deserted the
high pews and their 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 off, anC
only few old fogies were left, O'Sulli.
vans employer began to pull long face
and talk about retiring, and he spoke Il
his head waiter about it. They had sev.
eral conversations on the matter, and al
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 proceedl
of the sale, found himself with e5, ,00t
and nothing to do.
You know the old proverb about Satal
and idle hands Tim O'Sullivan's Satal
was not long in coming. The idle hand
held E6, 900, and that was an extra in
ducement TO Satan,