Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1882-03-17
JOHN PAUL.

He was doubtless tramp. His worn
| and dusty dress, his crushed felt hat, his
dirty shoes, and the checkered muslin
| shirt, tied at the neck with bit of rusty
| black ribbon, and the little bundle borne
| on his shoulder from the end of stout
stick, told the story plainly. Added to
this was the beard of a weeks growth, ex-
| cept the moustache, which had not been
| touched by razor. He was rather a gay
and good looking fellow for all that, with
a keen eye, an open couDtenance, and a
we'll knit figure, and he strobe along as
though he felt that the wandering idler
was really the king of other men, and
tramping superior art.
Presently he threw down his stick and
bundle and made a leap in the road, just
in time to stop runaway horse, with the
long reins dragging about his feet, and the
wagon behind him swaying from side to
side. The occupants of the wagon, a cou-
pie as old fashioned as che carry-all in
which they sat, had been frantically crying
to the horse to stop, and now that some
ono had stopped him, were profuse in their
thanks.
"Bob is not vicious,'' said the man.
whose language and dress showed him to
belong to the Society of Friends, "but two
geese few across the road and before
knew it he had jerked the reins out of my
hand and started on run. Pm obliged to
thee, for if thee hadn't caught him he
might have spilled US over the high bank
below there
The tramp nodded and turned to 70,
when the woman spoke.
Friend" she said, "thse has split thy
coat up the back"
"Have Ip'' returne the tramp, feeling
for the rent. ''So 1 have. 1 must get it
msnded somewhere"
''As thee did it helping U.s. said the
man, putting his hand in his pocket.
II bar that said the tramp. raising his
hand, and showing with his laugh set of
white teeth. II don't take money for stop
ping horses; but thank thee for the in
tention."
81 tell thee what to do, friend-I don't
know thy name," said the woman.
The tramp smiled again, and said. "You
may call me John Paul, if you choose.'
well, friend Paul. does thee see that
white house among the trees, of from the
road back yonder? Thee 60 there, and
say to Rachel-that's our niece-that her
uncle and aunt Mahlon and Naomi Stacy,
sent thee, and ask her to sew thy coat for
thee. She'll make it passable. at least"
"Thank you, ma 'am; I'll do 50.
The tramp removed his battered felt hat.
made bow rather more courtly than
might have been expected, and the parties
pursued their several ways.
A brisk ten minutes walk brought John
Paul to the lane leading from the road to
the Stacy farmhouse. Down this lane he
turned, and when BALI way in it, heard a
woman scream. The next minute pref
ty young girl, with her hair flying over her
shoulders, ran out of the house, pursued
by great, burly, rough fellow, who stop
ped when he saw the other tramp coming.
The girl kept on, but wnen she observed
the new conner, stopped also, in doubt
whether it was not confederate.
Anything wrong?" inquired John
Paul.
"That-that mani" gasped the girl.
There be tramps, and tramps. The one
to whom Paul advanced was Of the baser
Eorder, brawny, whisky sodden, and brutal.
! "what do you mean by frightening this
young ladya"
T "Take it easy, pard," rejoined the big
TRAMP, grinding. 1.-THE gal gave me a
lunch, and | wanted to sweeten the Wit
ties with kiss. There's no bones broke. /"
| John Paul's face Redeemed. He took off
his coat and threw it on the pailings Of the
lane fence.
"Now." said he, quietly, you'll leave. y
/ when l git good an ready answered
the other, insolsntly.
I mo, sir-now."
| "Hal ha! Suppose you spell able. Do
1 YOU see that?" and he thrust his nst under
| the nose of the younger man.
It wss dashed aside suddenly and the