Morris tribune. [volume] (Morris, Minn.) 1880-2000, 1883-03-14
wreck OF aLife.

Correspondence Lewiston (Me.) journal.
While encamped in Mainetown not
long ago a seedy and broken-down man
slouched into hotel, made himself at
home in an armchair and picked up a
| newspaper. An aged citizen who OBJ
served him remarked to me: THE
story of that mans fall is one of the sad
dest and most startling histories l ever
met in life or in fiction. That man WAS
born in this town. His father was Il
wealthy farmer and land owner. By
hard, stern labor and close
economy, he amassed large prop.
erty. He educated his son at Har-
ward college, from which he was gradu-
ted with honor and high standing III his
class. The young man studied law with
one OF the most eminent practitioners OF
in Boston and was admitted TO the bar.
He possessed unusual talents. He was
brilliant III conversation, WAS ready
and sharp DICTATOR, and his culture was
thorough. He established an office in
one of the superbs of Boston. His faith
er gave him library worth 5000. He
acquired good practice. In the Whirll-
gig of time he was elected TO the Massa-
chusetts senate and an Hon" was pre-
fixed to his name. He became one OF
the prominent and most promising
young men in the commonwealth. BY
and by his father died and left him $780,
600. This completely upset the young
man. He was in such haste to get and
spend his money that he lett his office
without stopping to lock the door, and
abandoned his library and furniture to
whomsoever might come. His credi-
tors seized his books and sod them to
pay his old debts.
He set up a grand establishment in
this town, and lived the most glitterlng
life on the Kennehec. he had horses,
carriages, dogs, and servants. He rolled
in luxury. His voice was potent in So
ciety and politics His fortune WAS in
vested chiefly in real estate. He was
soon obliged to mortgage some of his
property. 1t seemed as if he could not
waste his riches rapidly enough. He
gambled and drank heavily. When the
| mortgage became due, he paid no atten-
ton to them and they we're forclosed.
One by one houses, blocks and lots slip
ped TecklessIy out Of his hands. He
pursued the same mad course. Night
after night he allowed himself to be
t1eeced by gamblers, and day after day
length the old homestead was sold under
the hammer. The few resources that
remained speedily melted away. His
old friends forsook him. His wife
had died and his two sons had left the
scene of their father, ruin and disgrace.
For the last six or seven years he has
been what you see him-an Outcast. An
old friend furnished him with quarters
in an attic and fed him for while.
He became so miserable that it was inn
possible to bear his presence, and he
was set adrift on the world. One winter
he slept IN the corner Otan engine house
where a fire was kept. For several
months he was known TO fling himself
down on heap of rags in a deserted
building on one of our Wharyes. The
building was burned. Where he now
sleeps is mystery. He is as sly about
his quarters as a fox retreating to his
hole. The night Waterman have en-
deaVOred II track him, but he has success
fully eluded them them. He hangs
around the street until late hour at
night, and improves some opportunity
when the night Watchmen are on the
beat to steal into his hiding place, where
ever it may be. Sometimes an old friend
gives him Il dinner.
and saloons. / have seen him picking a
piece of bread or piece Of meat from a
pail of broken food destined for the pigs.
He drags along half-starved existence
in this way. I suspect he passes many
a day without particle of food, and
goes to his cover many night with an
awful gnaWing in his stomach. He is
clad in odds and ends of clothing. |
doubt if he owns whole shirt. Every
cent of his $50, 900 has flown. He earns
nothing. He refuses to ask aid from the
town, and he is too proud to soil his
hands by work. Many of his old com
panions look upon him with pity and
sorrow, and would help him if he mani
tested the least desire to help himself.
His sons do not come near him. A short
time ago the ladies made purse and
presented it to him with
the understanding that he
should open law office, furnish it, and
mend his way and endeavor to do little
business He accepted the money and
it went the old way. His pride and
assumption displeased his best friends.
One day last winter one of our leading
citizens noticed the poor fellow had no
overcoat. The good Samaritan had one
Of his coats repaired, and it made
COlnlOftdUle SdIuleHt. EfDm motives OF
delicacy, he asked Il mutual friend to
present the coat to the man before him.
The friend called the shivering man in
to his hall and gave him the coat. He
disdainfully turned his heel and refused
the charity with an oath. The coat was
allowed to remain in the hall. That
very day it disappeare and it was after
ward seen on the fellows back. 1t is
no wonder such treatment cools the
hand of charity.
He has grown thin and shallow, and is
rapidly nearing the gulf at the edge of
the hill, If he ever suffers recolIec
ton of the past or fear of the future to
give him q pang, he does not speak Of it.
He wanders around town in the same
free and easy and Independent manner
that characterized his flushv days. He
does not realize that in his unkempt
and uncleanly condition he is an annoy
ance. His strange life is wearing on his
constitution, of course. He cannot last
much longer, unless he obtains his sub
sLytence from some source less precari-
Gus than back doors.