News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1882-11-30
"She says so-wages of sin, she calls

''She says so-wages of sin, she calls
'em."
''And what does the young man dc
for living ?" asked.
''Sells gin, jist as Tn ADDING. He's
a bartender, was the reply.
s.Ah !''
''Sure as a gun And the old lady
won't take cent of his money, though
she lets me keep the old man around Oh
the same stuff that she shudders tc
have her son sell. Queer, ,!ain't it?"
Decidedly"
"Well, that's about all there is to he1
story and Pop's," he continued, wiping
his brow hard, as though to permanent
ly dispel some of the increased uneasi-
ness that had taken possession of him
during his recital. ''And I think it's
blarsted hard on the son, [ do. For
jist look at old Pop there now," he
added, directing my attention anew to
the queer little old man, who had lapsed
into motionlessness, with his hands in
his pockets, his chin on his breast, and
|
eyes, half suggesting permanent ban
ishment to what seemed to constitute the
| humble Nirvana of his broken life.
''Isn't he as happy as newborn baby,
and all through me? But here comes a
man now-he's been on Santa Cruz sours
for week but notice change on his
face, perhaps to S. o. P, or a rye and
seltzer-whose story might be writ up
splendid"
The last remark was evoked by the
rheumatic entrance of a very large, we'll
dressed, ine-looking, but somewhat
bloated man, who verified the bar-ten-
der's prediction by dropping his cane
and asking for rye whisky and seltzer.
He also bought a cigar.
"Know him, of course ?" said the bar
tender, in respectful tone, when we
were again alone.
NO." I replied.
"What?" he said.
ga Custom House official perhaps
Congressman, or some other sort of dig
nitary," ventured.
'Bigger'n that. It's Bob E, the
retired prize fighter! !"
"Ah, indeed !"
"Sure's you live; and dusty chap
still in a rumpus, in spite of gout and
dissipation, you can bet. But here comes
Pops old woman to carry him off home
with her," he added, half sullenly, half
shamefacedly, as an elderly lady made
her appearance at the family entrance,
with a resigned but ef-protesting air.
''There he is mother; there's old Pop
py waiting for you, and as calm as an in
FAINT. He's had pretty good day of it
too"
The newcomer was thinly clad, and
evidently of Woodworking, poorly paid
station in life. Her face was both kind
and stern. She had plentiful, snowy
white hair. AS she stood in sort of
noble shame at the threshold of sphere |
which her every instinct abominated, |
while a sense of duty urged her to its |
edge, there was a sad dignity in her
looks. She merely inclined her head in
recognition of the bartender's greeting,
turned her regards still more sadly from
him to the still motionless figure ON the
bench, and then moved gently toward it.
''Now, here comes another customer
whose story might be writ up, " "hurriedly
whispered the bartender, beckoning me
to come still nearer, as he planted his ell
bows on the counter and leaned still
further across it. ''Never mind Poppy
any more, but just twig this man coming
in from the street. Why, that man"
A sharp cry from the gray-haired wom-
an startled us.
We turned and ran toward her. The
white despair of her wan face chilled my
heart. Her hand had recoiled from the
shoulder of the old man upon the bench.
His forlorn figure had fallen upon its
side, with the pinched, discolored Inca
ments of the face upturned. He had
passed into his last exile, whence there
was no return.
81 say" muttered my representative
bartender, when he had summoned car
riage and sent away the body in the old
woman's charge, ''would you mind step
ping around to that political club of mine
this evening and making excuses for my
unavoidable absence? You see, I'll have
to help the old woman to look after poor
Pops remains"
Certainly will. And it's really good
of you to thus
"Good God !" interrupted the barten-
der with passionate but fearful abrupt
ness. "Can't you understand? He was
my father, and the poor dear old woman
is my mother I"