Weekly Chillicothe crisis. (Chillicothe, Livingston Co., Mo.) 1878-19??, 1883-10-25

exactly-for | am good shoemaker.
| lived with that man for year, and
saved all my money. | sent the dear
old father at home 800. If you could
only have seen the letter that clmo
back! The blessed old daddy wanted
to know il thought he was n spend.
thrift That 500 ho was going to
make do for the next three years!
There was a chance heard of in Sac
ramento. | went there, my master
giving me some of his shop-worn sto3k.
did splendid business. In six
months had made for my share
$1,000. My fortune was before me.
Poor old daddy was not forgotten.
got cross letter from him this time.
The poor simple soul wanted TO know
whether | thought he was going to the
dogs. Did | want TO make him u
drunkard, gOurmand, and put all
kinds OF temptation in his way? Too
much money was tho source of all evil.
| was robhing myself to pampcr him
but for all that thero was lot of
sweetness in tho letter.
Well, thought that fortune was
now mine. But ono night bad fire
broke out and was burned out. Fires
occurred in Sacramento every night
and were the work of thieves.
gatherel | together the few pairs of
boots ] could put my hands on, and
placed them, with my money, in n
trunk, and | carried il ont of the
wooden shanty just as the roof fell in.
For better security sat on my trunk,
and gazeG bewldercd ike at the
flames. al nave something left"
said, latter all, to begin the world
with" just then was struck Il
heavy blow over the head with club,
and lost all consciousness. When
come to, | found myself on the ground
and my trunk gone, The thieves had
done the business for me. All! then
| gave myself up, just for moment,
to despair. IL am ruined-ruincd for
ever. Poor old daddym | thought.
But was not ruined, for that crack ON
the head was the means of making my
| fortune.
didn't cry over things much, for |
am q good shoemaker, ami that is al.
ways solid capital. | had little
money in my pocket, and went to
San Francisco. | knew my old mas
ter would take me back, and he did So
| resumed my old place. There was
IN auctioneer among his customer
with the tendorest feet | ever saw, and
as am u shoemaker that explains all
my good luck. The auctiOneer had
been grumbling ever since left San
Francisco. When he saw me he was
delighted. "At least now," he said,
Il am out of my great misery. |
shall Imp no longer At once
made him Il pair Of shoes, and hc was
delighted
One day he said to me: 81 had an
auction yesterday, and put NJ with
out getting single bidder, n lot ct
very fine French boots. They
won't sell because there is 4 glut
of boots on the market. They were
imported year ago, hut tho shape is
out Of fashion now. It was square
toe then; now it is round one.
DO you buy thcmP" "lIpw much?'
| asked. Make your own price
"But | have no money" That makcs
no difference; you may have them on
credit; pay me when you can" |
went to look at those eases of boots.
They were of the finest quality, and
excellent as to make. Some OF them
were cavalry boots, but such rs only
dandy horsemen or general officers
wear. Remember, am good shoe
maker and know my trade. bought
those boots at one dollar pair. The
leather alone was worth twice that.
At night used to work on them. |
made the square toes pointcd-fOr |
am good shoemaker. Some of them
| cut down into boOtccs. Oh! worked
night after night on them after hours.
Then | hired small shop and hung
up few pairs in the window,
A Mexican camc first "llow
muchP" "ren dollars" He took the
boots. Then a miner passed. "How
muchP" Fifteen dollars" Then a
gentleman on lino horse came by and
looked from his horse at the boots,
and no tied up his horse and asked
"How muchsn Twenty dollars"
He put double eagle down. must
have made $1,000 clear on those boots.
Then ! found moro of tLcm-a mine of
those boots, and put in my pocket
$4,000 dollars in three weeks.
worked on for II year and mado
money in my trade steadily, for am u
good shoemaker. Then got married
in San Francisco to u woman | loved,
and my married life has been worry
happy ono. 1t was pang when |
said to my wife,"l must leave you, my
love, for n short timc-only long
enough to pay my dear old daddy a
visit" | left my business in hcr
charge. 1t was voyage Of business
and pleasure, for went TO Paris to
buy goods.
Poor old daddy! There was the
same magpio in the wicker-work
basket, and he salutcd me, for he re.
membered me. When / was n little
boy stuck tail of false feathers on
him with some cobbler's wax. He
never forgot me, and rutiled his fcath.
crs at mo rs soon as he saw me, as if
my insult to him had been of recent
date. There was hardly u change in
the room. There hung fathers old
watch, as big as saucer, ticking
away, with a spray of lockwood over
it for luck. Then there was on tho
shelf the same old earthenware jug.
The handle | broke one unfortunate
day, and piece of leather was bound
round it, and it hung on a nail by q
thong. He had the same awl in his
hand-at least it was the same handle,
for | once came near getting thrash
ing for having whitfield it. Even an
old almanac of year long gone past
was there, tackled to the wall with
shoe brads. He had on the Same
apron, only it was worn thinner.
The dear old father was bending
over his work, pounding slowly at
some bit of leather ON last. You
could count one, two, three, four be-
tween the hammerings. In my time it
was rat-tat-tat, like drum beating,
with no interval between the strokes.
| strobe in and the old gentleman first
looked at my feet; that was a way he
had. At a glance, for he was the king
of shoemakers, he could take in all the
difference between your foot and tho
feet of the rest of the world. He
looked and looked again. He must