The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1883-08-09
E.ehentinns nm Nirhk.

IT'S night. There are several ref1ec-
| tions upon it. One of them is the moon.
| Others are the stars, and from that cor
ner gin mill just to the right of the sleep
| ing policeman, steal forth the faint rays
| of a low test kerosene oil lamp. The
! policeman awakens slowly and rubs his
I scarlet eyelids. He is in no particular
hurry. His time is. going right on and
| he knows 1.-THE unfortunate taxpayer,
who has just been sand-bagged block
| away, and relieved of his watch, pocket
| book and couple of coupon lottery
| tickets, knows it, or he will know it, pos
sibly, if he ever comes out of his COM
atose condition and knows ANYTHING
again in this world.
1t is night in great city! The same
night, however, breaks out in spots and
| runs for some distance over the edges
of the city and out into the country.
| The poker and faro rooms are in full
| blast. There is also hot blast for the
| full man duo from the old lady when
the new tiedgod poker man ambles home
| like the hoary-headed sinner which he
| is. Look up the street. Do you see
that old man, scantily clad and totter-
! ing from side tc side of the dizzy street?
| Once ne was young and tender as 3
| spring chicken. We mean, of course,
p chicken. When we say chicken we
mean chicken and not the beautiful ideal
of the hotel cook or the disgracefully
crimped landlady. Yes, once he was as
fresh as buttercup; once he was new,
but he fell. He was led astray, and fol-
lowed after false god with little g, a
| lump of alum in his shirt front which
CLEANED like q diamond, and smile
like an opened skylight-a gambler.
Oh, yes! Once he was as pure rs the
beautiful snow, but tangle-foot caught
him, and he fell. From playing for
high stakes, like dollar corner and
his wife's jewelry, he gradually sank
down to shaking dice for the beer and
purloining thin and economical slices
of antique bologna from the free lunch
| counter.
His health is not good. He is not
particularly troubled with indigestion.
The main trouble with him is to get hold
of something to digest. He is now in
the twilight of life, in the sere and yell
low leaf, bankrupt in love, business and
all regular culinary arrangements. If
| he gets too full the sympathetic police
man will pull him in out of the malarial
dew. The small boy and the decrepid
| old man should keep sharp eye out
for the well-fed copper. Night police
men who will go whole blocks out of
| the way to avoid catching up with the
stalwart burglar will spot poor blind
girl and drag her along to the station
house amid the plalidits of admiring
throngs which are successfully worked
by pickpockets under the very red noses
of the officious, bustling coppers with
big clubs and diminutive brains
'Tis night in the city. The gas is bad
and constantly winking and blinking
up the sombre fiume of night, but the
corporation gas bill is good. 1t is hearty
and full-chested. A gas bill is like
eternity. 1t never stops. The gas may
flicker once in a while, get tired, weak
in the back, and take night or two off
and rest up, while the great city sleeps
in impenetrable gloom, but the bill
never fades, never gets tagged out,
jaded and depleted, never sleeps, is al
ways in good, working order, healthy
and youthful, glad, happy and as blythe
some as 4 skylark.
In sober reality, the gas bill is about
the worst reflection in the world on a
great city.-Teras SJtings.