Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1883-10-02
JACK, THE BOOT BLACK.
BY MALCOLM DOUGLAS.

BY MALCOLM DOUGLAS.
Mr.. Brett. the successful shippinl
merchan, Of Broad Street, was seated II
his comfortable Office, when the doo'
softly opened and boy timidly entered
His looks betokened the street Arab
The ragged trousers, evidently intended
for a man, were tucked in at the end'
aud suspended by cord tina, brought
them nearly to his neck. A frayed and
yellow vest, unbuttoned not from choice
probably, but because i, was destitute oi
buttons, revealed glimpse Of the checked
blue shirt underneath. He wore no shoes,
although it was quite late late in tie fall
and bleak. gray clouds hung threatening
ly over the city.
For a minute be stood there irresolute,
his faded cap clasped tightly in his hand
while Mr.. Brett, intent upon his ships
at sea, proceeded with his writing
Fearing that he never would obtain a
recognition, the boy slightly coughed.
Mr.. Brett wheeled his chair around until
be faced him.
"Well:" he queried.
"Shine, sir ,"
Come around some other time" said
Mr.. Brett, impa,ien,ly turning to his
books. I'm busy now"
The boy waited moment.
"Tll give you the best shine In the
city, sir" he ventured, presently, land
only charge you five cents"
Mr.. Brett wheeled his chair around
again. The little fellows frank, blue
eyes and manly countenance checked the
sharp reply upon his lips. Instead, he
placed one foot out, and said:
Be quick, my lad"
The boy looked nervously around. II
have neither brush nor blscking, sir" he
said, with tremor in his voice. Won't
you lend me yours :"
Mr.. Brett. with grim smile, pointed
to dusty shelf where lay those useful
articles. Seizing them, the boy tucked
his patrons pantaloons up carefully and
went to work with the air Of profess
ional.
Don't you think this going about
without the tools of your trade is rather
poor way Of doing business ? said Mr..
Brett.
II know 1t Is. sir" acknowledged
the boy, bending his head lower. When
he lifted it, there sparkled in one OF his
big. blue eyes a tear, which he roughly
dashed away with his ragged sleeve, and
then went to work harder than ever.
Then, why do you do it," asked
Mr.. Brett, in whose heart the lads con-
dition aroused sense of tender pity.
"Tll tell you. sir" he said, frankly.
II did have box, and good one. too
But last week uncle came home-he was
I'D at the island, sir-and he was thai
wild for drink that he pawned everything
in the room, bit by bit, to get it. And
when there wesn't anything left, sir, he
took my box one night when | was asleeT
and''-the poor lads voice choked with
| suppressed grief-"sold it and ever since
then l have been doing odd jobs h'
added, smiling family. " But it is 1
poor living, and 1 wish I had my DO,
back"
Mr.. Brett tapped thoughtfully upor
| his chair while the boy cheerfully pol
| i.hed the heel of the last shoe. As be
q ,eried:
"what is your name, nay boy
Jack Brown, sir.
"Now, Jack" said Mr.. Brett. 81 an
going to start you in business $" An ca
| ger light shone in Jacks eyes. Sand
Furthermore, I'm going to give you mon
ey enough to buy pair Of shoes, for yor
will surely get sick If you go around il
such a condition. Mind. you're to pa!
me back when you get able, and ever!