The weekly Floridian. [volume] (Tallahassee, Fla.) 1867-19??, 1885-09-17

HOos
81 wonder what's beseune o. Jim thes,
days ?" asked one of hia:oA companion,
at the beer saloon around the corner.
81 don't know, rm ssez," replied an
other. Ever since that night We saw
him carrying that littls Jill home, ~,
not put my eyes on him.
"Well, he's jolly fallow, aud mis-,
him. that's true" said ths frst speaker
"rll ask Sam if he knows anything abou,
him."
Sam was just coming in with fresh
supply Of black bottles and mugs, and
Tim Wakefield put his query to him q,
once
What's become of Jim Percy, Sam I
We hain't seen him here for ages.
"No more have l." replied Sam, set.
ting down the bottles with loud noise
"and what's more, dent want to. I'm
out OF all patience with him-a big fellow
like him tied to the apron strings of bit
of girl not four years old.n
What do you mean r inquired his
iistersers, mucii surprised
Why, you see, one night he was just
on his way here, he says, and he found q
child crying in the street and saying as
how she'd been turned out of doors. Jim
was always a soft chap; SO he picks her
up and carries her home, and he and his
wife. they've kept her ever since. hear
she's just wild over her, and will do any.
thing she says; and one thing is that he
must always stay in the house o. nights !;
so he does it, poor fellow, to please the
little thing. | s'pose he's afeard she'd
cry again if he didn't mind her," added
Sam with a sneer. 81 think it's sad to
see a man making a goose OF himself like
that" And Sam strobe away in disgust.
But let us hear Jim's own story. He
is an exPressman--a great, sunburnt fell
low, and he has large, warm heart; but
since he lost his little boy and girl with
scarlet fever some years ago he has never
been the same man. He has good wife,
but he missed the children so that he felt
he could not stay in the house in the
evening. So, without thinking it was
just as hard for his faithful Jane, who
must stay there all day as well, he be-
came accustomed to spending his even
ings at :he public house. At first he did
not drink much, but sat and listened to
the talk and jokes of the others. By de-
grees he became more social, and, as be
was naturally intelligent and good
talker, he became great fsvorite. He
was fiattered by having the others urge
him to come again, or by hearing them
say, Here's jim now we'll have a good
time"
In vain his poor wife besought him not
to keep such company; he would not
heed her, and was fast getting 80 that he
could not break off his habits If he would.
But Providence stopped to rescue him
from drunkard's career; and this is how
Jim himself tells the story:
was going home one night to sup.
per-" he says. 1t was . rainy, chilly
night-one that made anybody cold and
uncomfortable through and through. l
thought I'd take bit O. tea, and then
I'd 60 round the corner and get cheered
up Somehow l felt kind Of sorrowfui
way down in my heart, and began to
think of my dead children, and l could
not bear to do So AS l walked home,
right by the door of the saloon I saw .
least might of girl with long, yellow
curls, a-crying and sobbing SO pitiful that
stopped to speak TO her. -
"What's the matter, little one?" 1
asked.
"She looked mp with great blue eyes
full, and says: want to 60 home; Pm
cold
"Why don't you 60 right away?" l
said. It's no night to stay out here.
Are you lost?
NANNY won't let me in any more,
cause can't get enough pennies; and
she began to cry afresh.
"Who is 'mammy?'" asked.
"'I live with her; but she's turned me
out now, and l can't 60 home any
move
"She was little bittle bit of thing
just about the sizo of my Mary, and had
the same pretty hair as she. couldn't
stand it moment, but just picked her up
in my arms and carried her home to
Jane.
"Here, wife," called ont, "I've brought
home somebody for supper.
"She came all in q tremble for fear it
was one o my mates at the saloon, but
when she saw the child she began to cry.
"'How like she is to little Mary she
said.
"Just what thought" / said, and
if we can't find her folks, we'll keep
her."
"The little thing clung to me and
would not be put down, 80 | just held
her in my arms and Jane got her some
bread and milk, and fed her like baby.
Then she fell asleep, and l sat for an hour
with her head on my shoulder, and l
didn't stir, for fear I'd wake her.
81 forgot all about going to the saloon.
and my old thirst didn'. trouble me snce
that night. By and by Jane beckoned to
me, and laid her down On Msry's own
little bed that wife hsd got ready. We
stood there and watched the little thing
asleep and looking 90 peaceful, and Jane
slipped her hand into mine and said, Oh,
Jim, don't you think the Lord has sent
her to us?'
Eyes, do, Jane," I says; "and if
He'll let her stay, I'll turn over new
leaf"
"The next day found ont oil about
her. The woman whom she called
nanny was glad to get rid Of the lit
tie orphan, and my wife and l have kept
Now my home is 80 pleasant l
wouldn't miss passing IN evening there
for any money; % don't 60 near the
saloon any more. and" he added very
humbly, @with Gods help I'll never 60
there again. - We8pring.