Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1884-1886, 1886-05-21


money. would show him whether !
was a good for naught, as he had said.
NY plan was to make fortune in short
order. Then would return to New
York, and as unfolded my millions to
the astonished gaze of my stern parent,
l would snap my finger in his face and
cry:
"'Keep thy wealth. sirrah! Iwish
none of it,
at gave me great comfort to repeat
these words, and as thought over my
coming triumph forgot all about my
homesick feelings.
20 dear! don't believe yon want
to hear the rest of this story. 1t makes
me blush to think of it. Well. if must,
here goes.
II very soon found out that Mel
bourne was full of men who had come
from distant lands to get rich quickly
in the Land of Promise. The city was
full of strangers of every sort; English
men. Irishmen. Americans. Spaniards,
Cinnamon, and dom know what all. 1t
was pretty rough crowd, if the truth
must be told. They were all talking of
the gold fields and the sheep pastures,
| anu = oOOh 4OAAo Out tudi luCSc WcIc
considered the two royal roads to for
tune. l mingled with the rough, rest
less crowd, and my ears burned with
the stories heard of fabulous nuggets
of gold picked up in the new Ell Dorado.
Men looked at my smooth, boyish face,
and my stylish clothes. with some
| establishment, but they were accustomed
to see all sorts of men and boys among
them, for the gold fever is by no means
poor mans disease, and ministers and
miners often worked side by side,
grading for the precious mineral which
makes the world so miserable.
.'One day fell i'm with smooth,
sleek man who took great interest in
me. told him all about myself and
my plans for astonishing the governor
He said was brave fellow, and adj
vised me to join his party. which was
getting ready for the gold fields. | was
only too glad to accept. When l woke
up one morning and found that my
new friend had walked off with my
new clothes. my gold watch, my letter
of credit. and all my money, began to
lose faith in the gold fields The rascal
had left me his wcll-worn clothes, and,
to show that he still had conscience.
he had placed a couple of gold sover-
eigns in the vest pocket
80 tried shcep-raising, perforce.
Now, don't think care to say much
about the two years spent, three hun
drcd miles from Melbourne, working
for a farmer at seven English shillings
Il week. II was not a life TO brag
about. For young man seeking his
fortune it was not success. If you
could have seen Ernest Travers, the
son of Il rich man, Smelling dried peas.
and helping to wash sheep, and curry
ing horses, all for the princely sum of
dollar and half week and his
board. | don't think you would have
cnvied the Prodigal Son bit. don't
care to tell how many quarts of tears |
shed on those peas, or how many, many
times ! vowed that if l ever got home
again would be a good boy for ever
after. boarded the pennies but they
came slowly.
Zone day, after two years OF this
life, threw down my spade where l
was digging. and started on foot Tor
Melbourne DO you know whit t 8,
to walk three hundred miles over a
rough country? Ihope YOU never will.
When reached Melbourne my clothes
were in tatters and my shoes were all
uppers. Twas SO stiff that it took me
an hour to walk half mile, and the
big blisters on my feet often made me
cry with pain, and | was no baby
either. Twas pretty looking specta-
Gle. On the road big tramp took
away my little hoard of money. and all
| had left was a few shillings which he
had overlooked | had intended to 90
home as Storage passenger. Now
must work my passage.
But this was not SO easy. Sea cap
tains looked at my ragged clothes and
tangled hair, laughed. and sand they
didn't want any help
81 slept at a tramps' clearinghouse
at best it was almost that For six
pence you bought a ticket emitting YOU
to nights. lodging, such as it was. |
ate stale rolls, and thought them good.
i had no money to buy better fare with.
Every day passed the bank to which
| had had letters Of introduction. but
pride kept me from going in.
lone night l spent my last sixpence
for a lodging ticket BY some chance
that night the man who took up the |
tickets passed me by. kept the ticket |
in my pocket. and wondered if could |
get another nights lodging out of it.
The next day had nothing to eat. |
Late in the afternoon swallowed my
pride-and it was all l had left TO swal- |
low-and went into the bank.
...Harn ,ean fn~ Ernnaf i
Traverse l asked.
The clerk looked at me curiously.
what Ernest Traverse he asked. |
Il mentioned my fathers name and
address.
Wait u moment said the clerk. |
He went into an inner office, and |
heard whispering voices and saw Curl
Gus faces peering at me through the |
glass doors. The room was whirling |
around and my head felt light and gid |
DIV and queer Ny heart was beating
wildly, yet wanted to laugh. and all |
the while ! was suffering cruel agonics
of apprehension. o. how hungry l
was,
when the clerk came back and told
me TO call again the next morning at
ten. l smiled and winked at him famil-
iariy, and staggered out of the door.
My heart felt as if it would burst.
made one final effort to find work on
a ship In vain. Then I wandered
through the streets and looked at the
good things to eat in the bake-shop
windows l thought Of my dear
mother and prayed through binding
tears that might see her just once be-
fore died 1t was not death l feared.
but to die so far away.
''When nightfall came | crept back
to the lodging house. l smiled once
to think of the chance which gave me
shelter for one more night. When the
man came around to take the tickets l
handed him mine. 1t was a blue one.
He handed it back to me.
That's the wrong color for to-
uight.' he said. Pay or git.'
$50 l spent the nj ght in the streets
the longest. darkest, most awful
night of my life.
We'll. that ends the story of the
Prodigal Son." said Earnest, drawing
a long sigh. when l reached the
bank the next morning at ten. the first
face saw was the big. good-natured
face of Captain Coffin, the master of
the packet Liberty 1t was the first
familiar face had seen in two years.
II looked to me like the face of an