Orange County observer. [volume] (Hillsborough, N.C.) 1880-1918, 1881-10-01
THE DKAKEMAN'S STORY.

A rough looking man? Yes, perhaps |
am We amt all of rs responsible |
for our outside husk, no more than a |
horse chestnut or q hazel-nut Is. The |
kind of life I lead, cant be lived in
white kid, gloves and dress coats.
wasn't brought up with many advan-
tages, and I'm only brakeman on the
Rensselaer, and Saratoga line Old
Jones was telling you about me, was
he. sir? He'd better hold his tongue.
There's more profitable subjects Of. con
versation than / am But old Jones
means we'll enough, and if he told you
to ask me how that stripe of white hair
came on my black name, | amt the
man to go back on him. Oh, you
needn't beg my, pardon, sir | don't
mind talking about it now, though the
time was when / couldn't speak of it
without a big lump coming in my
throat
We hadn't been married long, Polly
and me, when it happened. Polly was as
trim, bright-eyed slip of a girl as ever
you'd wish to see. She was one of the
mattresses in the Albany lunch room
and the first time ever set eyes upon
her l made up my mind to make that
girl my wife, So, when they raised my
wages, took heart and asked her if she
would have them with me, with
wedding-ring thrown into the bargain.
"Do you really mean it, Jake 2" said
she, looking me full in the face, with
those dark blue eyes Of hers, that are
! like the skies at night
II do really mean it, Polly" said l.
''Then," said she, putting both her
hands in mine, "I'll trust you. I've no
living relation to advise me, SO | can
only take counsel with my own heart. "
SO we were married. rented little
one-story house, under the hill on the
height, that overlooked the Hudson-a
coy place with good-sized wood pile
at the rear, for winter meant winter in
those parts, and the snow used to be
drifted up even with our door-yard
fence many and many a cold gray
morning. And everything went smooth
until Polly began to object to my mates
at the White Blackbird, and the Satur-
day evenings T spent with the boys.
after my train was safely run onto the
side track at the junction.
"Why, Polly, girl" said l, where s
the harm? 4 man can't live by himself,
like an oyster III its shell, and social
glass never vet harmed any one.
"No," said Polly, mot a social glass.
Jake, but the habit. And if You would
only put every tive-cent piece that YOU
spend for liquor into little Bertie's tiny
savings bank
"Pshaw :" said l. I'm not a drunk
ard, and | never mean TO become one.
And no one likes to be preached to by
his wife, Polly. Remember that N,
girl, and you'll save Yourself a deal OF
trouble.
/ kissed her, and went away. Bu
that was the beginning OF the little
grave shadow that grew on my Polly:
face like q creeping fog over the hills
and that she has never got rid of since
1t was sore point between us-wha
the politicians called vexed question
felt that Polly was always watchin.
me and | didn't choose TO be put Il
leading strings by woman. So
( shame TO say 1T went To- the Whit
Blachhiri oftencr than ever. and | dldn
always count the glasses uf beer that
drank, and once or twice, OF partlcu
larlv cold night, let myself be per
suaded INTO drinking something stronge
than beer and my brain WASH, the kin
that could stand liquid fire with In
. pun,ty s-<And Polly cried. and l lost N
!. temper, and-well ] don't like to thin
t Of all these things nov. Thank gnoc
l. ness they're over and gone
!. Tha, afternoon, as stood or the bac
n platform of my car. with my arms fol(
/ ed and my eyes fixed on the snow
!. waste OF flat fields through which tt
/! iron track seemed TO extend itself liz
e an endless black serpent, ] looked III
70 own life IN the face. l made up IL
,. mind that l had been behaving Ike
brute.