Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1883-04-11
HE DID NOT GO.

head, like a cat after her own TAIL
was fascinated by it's faultless rhyme, by
the lawless abandon of it's capitals. l
think it would soon have set itself to mu-
sic in my whirling little brain, if voice
bad not cried out:
oval, little girl, how do you like my
new sign? Don'ty you call that first-class
poetry? ?"
Yes, it's very nice poetry" / an
swered. And then [ went on boldly:
''But see word in it that isn't spelled
right.
''Not spelled right? How's that? [
shall have to hobble out and take look
at it. You're pretty noticin' little crit
ter, amt yer?"
limited that this sort of "too" was
usually spelled with two o's; but Mr..
Rogers looked bard at the word over his
spectacles, and did not seem to think IA
vorably of the change.
81 tell We what" said he, finally, eve
got way, and no spellin' about it.
What's spelhn' as long as folks catch
yer idee? The idee's what yer can't git
along without"
Saying which Mr.. Rogers took his
fist to the Objectionable ''to'' and wrote
triumphantIy in Its place a huge fig
ure 2.
felt baffied and helpless and went
home with vague sense that had left
Mr.. Rogers sign much worse than had
found it. 1t still pursued me, however,
and at dinner [ said suddenly:
Mamma, don't you want my shoes as
good as new, and better, too ?"
Bless me - said my grandmother,
'swhat ails the child? She isn't begin
ming so early to be poet, is she %
"Oh, no., cried my father. ST guess
she's been reading old John Rogers
sign. Wife, it is curiosity You must
go by there. We must send him some
old shoes. You know he broke his leg
last winter, and he's trying to work
again. We must give him lift. +"
So it was that next morning [ found
myself again before the dis tracing sign,
this time with a large bundle Of old
shoes in my arms. [ lifted the latch
and stepped into the little shop.
6 declare fort if here amt rush of
business, SAID Mr.. Rogers, as he opened
my bundle. Zone pair o. copper toes.
Them your little brothers Congress.
with the 'larstic give out. Guess that's
yer grandmother's. And here's some o.
yer pas boots, with a nice, handsome
hole In Ii. "
"And I'd like to buy some shoe
strings, too, put In, feeling myself
patron OF considerable importance.
''Now, them copper-toes wouldn't
take more'n half an hour. Can't you
sit down and wait / ai'nt such a great
talker, but | like somebody to speak to
once In a while. There's the cat.
talk to her. She will look very know
ing, but the minute my backs turned
she's fast asleep. That amt hatterln',
yer see, and / STOP"
/ sat down, and while | listened used
my eyes as well. The sunlight fought
its way through the dusty window
frames, and diffused itself impartially
over the floor, with its wide, oirt-fiIled
cracks. The decoration of these walls
was Of an humble order, although by no
means uninteresting. In the first place,
there we're huge auction bills, in every
stage of yellowness and dirt. My grand
mother kept an obituary scrap-book;
but, as I afterwards found out, it was
Mr.. Rogers practice to cherish the
auction bills of his departed friends.
Amos Beldon had peacefully slept with
his fathers for thirteen years OF more,
but in J. Rogers shop 1t was still pro-
claimed, in giant type, that he wished to
sell +" ten mich COWS and six healthy
YearlIngs."
Nor was this all. Ten years ago
misguided Snowman had come to our lit
tie town, and had solemnly retreated the
next day, with more experience than
profits, but his advent still lived in the
hand bills on MIR. Rogers walls. Be-
hind the old man, as he patiently bent
over his work, an interesting family of
lions were sporting, while on the door
were set forth in vivid pictures the ac-
cOmpllshments Of 1.-The Fairy of the
Ring" young woman in very scanty
pettlcoats. The ceiling, too, had its
share of decorations. From it hung,
among festoons of cob-web, broken
bird-cage; battered Chinese lantern,
whose light had long since gone out; odd
boots, which had parted with their
mates; baskets with no bottoms, and
numberless straps, chains and bits of
rope, that had long ago outlived their
usefulness.
But Mr.. Rogers work bench battles
all enumeration. It was covered with
deposit of from six to ten inches in
depth, from whose lower stratum Mr..
Rogers would, from time to time, bring
up an awl or a bit of wax.
1t was the old cobbIer himself on
whom my eyes at last rested. In his
most upright days he could not have
been a large man; but now the years
had settled heavily upon him, and he had
lost several inches of his youthful
height. His face was framed with a
thin white fringe of beard, while cheek
and chin were rough with a granite-col-
cred stubble. There were fine, Melted
wrinkles, but no deep burrows in the old
mans face, and on each cheek wintry
bloom still fingered. His voice had the
roughness of nutmeg crater, but now
and then glanced off from its usual key
and ended in kind of chirp.