The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1883-03-15


redowa was the most p. pular waltz move
ment, as it was the most graceful of anv
dance. Combined with the glissades It
formed the Knickcrbocker. It was true
that the Knickerbocker was carried to
extremes by vulgar persons, but never
by respectable people.
Wreck of q Life.
Correspondence Lewiston (Me) Journal.
While encamped in Mainetown not
long ago 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: 1.-THE
story Of that mans fall is one of the sad
dest and most startling histories I ever
met in life or in fiction. That man was
bora in this town. His father was q
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 in 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 in conversation, was q 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 whirli-
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,
O0Q. 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 sold them to
pay his old debts.
He set up q grand establishment in
this town, and liyedthe most glittering
life on the Kennebec. He had horses,
carriages, dogs, and servants. He rolled
in luxury. His voice was potent in so.
clety and politics. His fortune was in
vested chiefly in real estate. He was
soon obliged to mortgage some of his
property. It seemed as if he could not
waste his riches rapidly enough. He
sambled and drank heavily. When the
mortgage became due, he paid no atten-
ton to them and they were forclosed.
One by one houses, blocks and lots Slip
ped recklessly out of his hands. He
ursued the same mad course. Night
after night he allowed himself to be
ttieeced by gamblers, and day after day
he stupertied his senses with LIQUOR. At
length the old homestead was sold under
the hammer. The few resources that
remained speedily melted awav. His
old friends lorsook 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 a while.
lie became so miserable that it was i'm
possible to bear his presence, and he
was set adrift on the world. One winter
he slept in the corner ofan engine house
where a fire was kept. For several
months he was known to fling himself
down on heap of rags in a deserted
bu!id!ng on one of our wharves. The
building was burned. Where he now
sleeps is a mystery. He is as sly about
hole. The night watchman have en-
deavored t, track him, but he has success.
fully eluded them them. He hangs
around the street until a late hour ut
night, and improves some opportunity
when the night watchmen are on the
beat to steal into his hiding-p]ace, where
ever it may be. Sometimes an old friend
gives him q dinner.
lie haunts the waste-buckets of hotels
and saloons. I 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 a particle Of food, and
goes to his cover many night with an
awful gnawing in bis stomach. He is
clad in odds and ends of clothing. |
doubt if he owns whole shirt. Every
cent of his $4,000 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 age, the ladies made a purse and
the understanding that he
mend his way and endeavor to do a 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
oyercoat. The good Samaritan had one
Of his ooofo roNoipoI o~l - .->l.
comfortable garment. From motives of
deli:acy, he asked 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 1t disappeared; and it was after
ward seen on the fellows back. It 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 a recollec
ton of the past or fear of the future to
give him a pang, he does not speak of it.
He wanders around town in the same
free and easy and Independent manner
that characterized his flushy days. He
does not realize that in his unkempt
and uncleanly condition he is an annoy
ance: His strange life is wearing on bis
constitution, of course. He cannot last
much longer, unless he obtains his SUBJ
slStence from some source less precari-
Gus than back doors.
''May I Kiss That Baby?''