Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1882-12-26

he was hurrying home to write pathet-
ic sermon on the text of the good Sa-
marian he had no time to waste upon
latter-day Philistines, and SO he passed
by on the other side.
Another was great mining capitalist,
hut it always made him angry to look at
people that were poor and dirty and vul-
gar. he had been poor and dirty and
vulgar himself once, and he now regard
ed all such attributes as direct personal
reflections, so to speak. So he stepped
frowningly into the fine carriage That
was in waiting and ratified off.
The next citizen who stopped to look
on was a political economist, who spoke
three times week on suffering Ireland
and ameliorating the condition of the
working masses. His soul sickened at
the injustice of society, he used to say,
and, pausing long enough to make q
| shirt-cuf note on the fearful increase of
crime among children, he, too, went of
shaking his head.
by. One of those continually haunted
10y fear of being themselves left in
| poverty and want some day, despite
their present wealth. And SO this one
clutched his purse tighter than ever,
and gave way to a couple of giggling
| women, who were the next corners.
Does not some writer say that sweet
charity and holy piety dwell always in
woman's gentle breast? But these were
San Francisco women of the period, and
SO they Uttered with one breath s'What
| a horrible little brat |" and then minced
on toward the matinee.
Meanwhile the brisk merchant first
mentioned walked rapidly up Market
street, like man every moment of
whose time meant coin. But when he
had proceeded about three squares his
pace, for some reason, seemed to grow
slower and slower, and from time to
time he jerked his head impatiently and
said "Pshaw!'' Indignantly to himself, as
though he was engaged in combating
some unwelcome mental impulse that
persisted in presenting itself to his con-
sideration.
The fact was, this brusque, impera-
tive man of trade was troubled with q
most uncommon and annoying affection
Of the heart, called humanity. It was
SO unnatural and singular disease for a
grown man to possess nowadays, that
the merchant was very properly ashamed
OF it !; not only that, but it seemed this
was an hereditary affection that per-
severed in making itself felt, and impel-
ling its possessor to do all sorts of in
consistent things in the most absurd
manner possible. Left to himself the
merchant was wealthy, respectable, a
man Of influence, and church mem
Der. In fact, he possessed all the nee
essary qualifications for being selfish,
uncharitable, self-centered and inhuman,
and it irritated him to the last degree.
Just when he was about, for instance, to
initiate his wealthy neighbors and evade
subscribing to some charity or perpe
trating any other kind action, to have
ibis little Unborn imp of humanity act
ually torment him into doing the very
thing his worldly training taught him
most to avoid.
He had noticed, too, that this disease
though it is not an epidemic, the
reader will Observation-Disclosures affected
him most when most happy and con-
tented himself, and as he was in q more
than usually serene mood just then he
was annoyed but not surprised to hear a
familiar little voice in his breast say, and
keep saying:
Remember the loving little child
you kissed when you left home Just
now. Suppose it were sitting there, in
stead of that wretched little wait,
crushed and despairing. Come, stop
thinking of how your neighbor Jones
would act, but 60 back and see if you
can not do q little something for the
boy"
AS we have said, he fought against
this ridiculous impulse for a time, but it
ended in his turning at last and retrac-
ing his steps with that sort of half-in-
jured, half-shamefaced expression many
men put on when they set about a
good action, for some as yet unsolved
reason.
"What's your name?" he gruff1y
asked Of the child, who by this time had
been pitched upon the seat of the wag
on, which was about ready to start.
"Snub, replied the small hoodlum,
eylng his interrogation a moment in "a
| sort of despairing stupor. The house of
correction for six months, which he knew
was the fate that awaited him, was more
much more-to his kind than the
mere disgrace and punishment. Il
meant in addition just what bankruptcy
and ruin does to the business man. Long
before his release the particular street
corner on which he sold his papers, and
the sole and equitable right to occupy
which he had defended from his fellow
merchants at the expense of many
gamely fought battle and bloody nose,
would be gone forever.
"Snub what?" said the merchant
"Walker, CT suthin' like that" re-
| piled the grimy midget, after moment
| of attempted recollection. "The boys
call me onny Snub, that's ALL
"Why?'
He shook his head in answer, although
the shape Of his infnitesimal nose sup
piled the necessary information.
where's your mother p
"Gone dead"
"When?"
Dunno-long time-'fore dad run
away"
"Away where? ?"
"Ter sea-"
"And SO you shift for yourself and sell
papers? Hum. Why do they call you
q wharf rat p
"Dunno. I amt no rat" said the
1 l.