Reporter and farmer. [volume] (Webster, Day County, Dakota [S.D.]) 188?-1946, 1885-08-20
waAr a CENT WILL BuY.
The MesgeR Expenditures Possible with
solitary Copper -Tramps and Beggars
Ut.,cct TO It. street-Car Owners Like
II, but Hunger 1t Can Not Ap.

| Ut,cct 70 It. Street-Car Owners Like
II, but Hunger 1t Can Not APP
! pease
Tho man who has only cent Is very
4 little better off than the man who is
without cent Hardly anything OF
value TO life can be purchased for
cent, and indeed the familiar copper
| coin was not inaptly described by a
| Washington street tramp as "a coin
Of exceptional aggravatingness." The
| wandering gentleman had seen better
| days, and, although there are doubt
less times when his mouth can equal
his nose Ia disreputable demeanor, the
polite overtures and the cigar OF the
1 newspaper man were received with
sentences Of appreciation betraying a
| past which included education.
"As take ii" said he, "a cent Is
| Just the amount Of money the street.
! car people swindle out of every pas
senger-aad cents IN piles are not to
be despised,--or else you can buy an
evening paper with a murder in it,
that's about all. Now, as don't ride
In cars, and don't care much about
the new police regulations which |
read in the paper, / always wait until
l get another cent, because with two
cents can get dip of rnm. It's bad
| liquor, but don'tlt tickle your throatp"
and the wandering gentleman chewed
| for while on his tongue.
"A cent is the meanest coin on
EARTH" he continued with vehemence.
old ladies would always give you
| nickel, and so would benevolent old
gentlemen, only the cents come handi-
est--of course you say thank you, sir,
and 'Gawd bless you, num- but you
feel inclined to chuck 1t back, anyhow.
What can you get with itp Nothing;
not even enough bread to kill hunger
for while--thank you, sir" and the
tramp slouched away with an cleo
mosnyary dime, down Seventh street.
slumwards, and disappeared through
tho portals of the Blazing Rag"
Close to that unsavory hostelrie there
are several little stores called general
shops" where the very poor buy near
ly all their necessities. The news
paper man entered one of the stores
and, finding an old acquaintance of
former stories behind the counter, was
soon In discussion on the cent and
what can be obtained for that coin.
81 guess a good many of my custom
ars are cent ones" said the store
keeper, brawny freshman, "but it's
precious little that they get. You can
buy this ROLL" showing very diminu-
tive loaf, .'but there amt more than
four bites In it; or you can take your
choice Of crackers, two of them, or
four Of those, OF one Of them, but
they'd be no use to hungry man.
You can buy head of cabbage for e
cent, but cabbage amt no use without
a fro to cook It, unless you 20 goat
or rabbit. Then you can get bit of
soap, brown, coarse stuff, which makes
everything smell what 1t washes, or
cont's worth Of snuff, or tobacco, or q
skein of thread, or two needles, or one
pickle, or one onion. or apple, or five
sticks of wood, enough to start fire,
or short tallow candle, or paper of
pins, or two ounces of flour, or little
vinegar, or some coal oil. The oil Is
about the best thing you can get, az it
is enough to keep lamp burning all
night. Then you can buy two envol-
opes or two sheets of writing paper,
box of matches, six gum drops, mon
key on stick, shoe-lace, a small
package of pepper, starch, or a good
lump OF salt, or a largo handful OF
soda, and that's about the list
tits the tive-eent piece that Is the !
coin Of the poor In this country, not
the cent. lntEngland penny can buy
a good meal. There are soup kitch-
ems all over London where you can get
bowl OF thick pea broth or steSed
cells for one copper, or you can buy
large piece OF fried fish or bag of
fried potatoes, or half pint of beer or
porter, or half pound or more OF
sleeps tongue, or big plate of Irish
stew, made Of potatoes and Australian
mutton, or thick slice of plum pud-
ding, ora plateful of pease pudding.
You can quite satisfy your hunger for
penny in London, just as you can for
a fiye-cent piece here, but you can't do |
it for a cent, and hope you will never
have to try"
A young woman entered the store, |
dirty and unkempt but good looking, !
and purchased a cents worth of snuff. |
That's the former wife of tho old |
blind beggar," said the store-keeper
"Ihe Press wrote all about the mar |
riage three years ago. She's left him |
now, got divorced, she SAYS, and now |
she's taken to snuff and q young man |
as mends umbrellas. II was all on 30
count of the yellow dog"
How do you mean?'
why, when the baby Of the blind |
man was christened last winter, as YOU
remember, cause you was present,
Mrs. Flanagan, the mothor-in-law,
threw a hat-iron at the yellow dog and |
broke its skull, Just because the poor
animal felt deserted that evening and |
took to bowling. The blind beggar
valued that dog an awful lot, loved il,
so to speak, and wouldn't believe but
what his vile had egged her mother on
to killing Of it and they never were
friends again. The baby died and he
didn't 90 to the funeral, but the fuss
he made over the body cf tho yellow
dog was trying. You see he and that
dog had tramped lots Of miles together
and quite understood each other. He
took the dogs carcass with him to
vacant lot some where near Manayunk,
and there he got friend to dig a hole
and drop the dead animal in 1t. He
tramps up, they say, to the place, now
and then, where the dog lies, and
heard as how more than once last sum
mer he gathered big lunches of pausies
IN the park just to place on the spot.
They are building over the lot now,
and ! should not be surprised If the old
blind beggar has the remains dug up
and put somewhere else l guess he
regrets he hasn't no family vault. Still, Il
human nature goes out to dog some
Times ever yellow dog. Mo- (to
would-be cnstomer), 1--WE don't make
no CENTS worth of ham. vi PHILADELPHIA
Press.