The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1885-06-27


clothes and get home. George! twas
dark outlook! Finally, he said, he
recalled the fact that lived here when
at school-that my father was wealthy,
and that l was good, generous fellow,
to use his words. So he got directory
and found us; and he is The fellow who
rung the bell at ten O clock last night"
There, what did l tell you!"
"And patrolled the street until morn
ing, watching to catch me when [ first
got up. l tell you the poor fellow was
blue with cold and drenched with rain,
and glad enough to see a fire!'
But why didn't you ask him to stay
to breakfast?''
Il did, of course, but | couldn't per-
suade him, he is so used up over look
ing So"
''But what can we do for him?" /
asked, seriously realizing that we now
belonged to that class ''who had seen
better days"
mot much, / fear, but he says if he
can get to L he has cousin there
who can help him to clothes and money.
| think | can get some of the boys to
pass him as far as l.. He will be
around soon and l am going with him
to see.
Presently Mr.. Latimer turned down
our street and l don't think | ever be-
held a more singular or pitiable sight
AS L have said, Mr.. L. was tall and well
proportioned-his features werH ME
and almost classical-and he would
have been observed in any crowd and
pronounced gentleman. But to see
such person as this clad in the thin,
scanty, shabby habiliments of drunk
ard was pitiable in the extreme!
My husband met him at the gate, but
before they could get away slipped out
under pretense of an errand and rem
dered an introduction necessary, though
Mr.. L. tried hard to prevent such a
catastrophe.
Oh, how gracefully he touched the
once fine silk hat, now so roughened by
the night rains! and how his face
flushed and paled as he made wretched
attempt to lengthen his coat and hide
his coarse shoes.
Though l addressed him as a gentle
man and a former friend of my hus-
band, he of course saw through my at
tempt to ignore his misfortune and was
NONCICtl WIFI llltllllldUlOus w DIS uctD-
" distressed for him, and said with all
the warmth of my being (and this was
my real errand) Il shall expect you
back to dinner with my husband, Mr..
Latimern
Thank you, Mrs. Carl" was the
graceful, gentlemanly reply, but |
have been unfortunate and am in no
condition to accept your kind hospitali-
ty." But persisted and he agreed to
return.
That evening for we induced him to
remain until the train left for L,
which was the following day. he and
Jack got to talking about old times at
the Academy. He would smile and
even laugh; but the laugh seemed to
choke him and the smile turned into a
shadow as he realized his uncouth APP
pearance and the unfortunate cause.
| And what wonderl
Fond and proud of his toilette, he
now found himself in the presence of
old friends clad in an old colored shirt
with collar of the same, faded coat two
sizes too small, thin pants two sizes too
large, coarse cowhide shoes minus
stockingS-no vest and no undercloth-
ing-nothing but the silk hat, which
had miraculously escaped, was left OF
his former handsome and com plete
WARDROBE
| In the course of conversation, and Mr..
L could be very entertaining, we
saw, he spoke of marrying his wife at
NJ.
"Indeed. what was her name? That
was my home eighteen years ago." |
said.
Edith Daily"
edith Daily" | said, with strange
mixture of surprise and sorrow, Il
knew her! at that time we were very
| intimate. She was one of the sweetest
! girls ever metz
''And you would find her just the
same now!' he replied, warmly, though
his features quivered with pain at some
recollection.
Before | left was alone with him a
little while. He seemed very anxious
to unburden his heart to me and talked
freely of his past life.
This is my worst and last debauch.
Mrs. Carl" he said, solemnly and
earnestly.
Il hope So Mr.. Latimer. for dear
Edith's sake-it must crush her."
AT the mention of her name the
tears ran down his face like rain, and
he cried out in pitiful agony of despair:
"Oh, Mrs. Carl. help me! for Gods
sake, help mel"
II wish might" 1 said, earnestly,
handing him handkerchief to dry his
tears, "but what can l do?"
won't you write pledge? l never
signed one because | thought l could
look out for myself-but it may help
mer'
Most cheerfully drew up a simple
pledge and he signed it in clear bust
ness-lile hand.
When he left us, my husband not bo-
ing able to get him passed" | handed
him two dollars for his fare to l..
This was all the money we had and we
really needed it. / told him this that
he might not squander it in further de-
bauch. | confess | felt little uneasy
until we received letter returning it
and telling of his safe arrival home.
This event, that impressed me so
deeply, took place four years ago. |
hope the pledge has been sacredly kept
| and Our frinnd coyn1 but | do not