Savannah morning news. [volume] (Savannah) 1868-1887, 1886-05-23
with women. He would have adorned the
court of Louis XIV.

y
' especiaIIv serviceable TO the broker In In
dieting charming billet-douX and impart-
{ ing an exquisite amaJOry flavor TO MS
love notes. TIE broker cared for MS
prOiege. The young man left mis- sltua'
lion at the case, and cut mis- former COM
radps A year atterWard tine writer met
him on the road behind team Of fast
horses. He refined in at Judge Smiths.
All his appointments Indicated wealth.
He was dressed even more elegantly than
usual When asked how he was getting
along, he shunted quiZzlng-glass from
his eve. and drew 81, 900 in goid notes from
his pocket. saying: "Famouslv, old man.
Look at them" He declared that he had
made his thousands on a deal IN "North-
western. No more type-settng for me-"
SAID he. CHOSE lead and anthony days
are gone forever"
Within two years, however, he was
again ''subbing" on mOrniug newspa per.
{ The days of type-sitting mad returned,
and with tSem days of gloom. The gay
neck-te, the glossy beaver, the natty
waslc0at, the beieweled horseshoe pin,
the velvet-collared broadciOth coat, the
/ patent leather boots gradually faded away.
! The bright eye swan in intOXicatiOn, the
/ face was no more clean-shaVen, badness
! appeared and the gay and fascinating con-
veTsatiOnalist became a moody wreck, an
/ adherence, and not an attraction to
women. His associates were men whom
be had formerly reviled. Vice had gripped
him for her own, and Death was fast tread
ing on his heels.
THREE WEEKS AGO THE WRITER
was clutched by the arm in Chat
ham street. The night was rainy,
the air chilly, and and there was
thick fog. you are just the one
| want to see," said whte-faced
Ill ro.a
try boy from Fincastle. His cheeks were
sunken, his hands were thin. and his eyes
were blazing with the fever of consump-
ton. He wore dirty canton flannel I'M
Gershirt, a thin rusty sack coat and trou-
sers. leaky shoes, and an old black telt
hat. He had neither waistcoat, muslin
shirt, or OYercoat. He was coughing vio-
lently.
amos, ] am dying with consumption"
he said land want you to get me into
hospital. | can't eat anything. Nothing
will stay on my stomach, and l am cold
all the time. 1t seems as though l never
can get warm, and know never can get
well. am gone for good" he added with
n feeble attempt at a smile. "Ah | want
is to snuggle down in some hospital
where ] can get warm and pass in my
check like gentleman. IL won't be
long"
w ELL IOW, tue WTIbbT T6Dlibus IL
see if ! can't get yOu into Bellevue"
mo, no! God nor he answered in a
weak voice, clutching his thin coat about
his neck. Don't send me there. | al
ways had horror Of that place. Cough,
cough. L remember what Ben Glusby
said about it after he came back from
there, and | have heard Joe Ravens and
TOm-the big fellow who used to sub for
Pete Whitlock-tell fearful stories about
mn ~ - 4
| Thought you might get me into St. Luke's,
or some of these religious places where
the EpiscOpalians or the Presbyterians
run the sick wards, and where they would
keep fellow warm until he died. Cough,
cough. | heard OF a printer, who died in
st. Luke's hospital, and they treated him
just as though he was at home, good. kind,
mOtherly women took care Of him"
When asked where he was stopping, he
replied, 'On the top floor Of Bowery
hotel. They're very Kind to me. | told
them didn't have any money, but they
said it didn't make any difference. But
my room is cold and chilly. You've no
id Ia how cold it is, ragain coughing vio-
lently]. | haven't been warm in a
month";
When asked whether he wouldn't have
a little beef tea, chicken soup, calves root
Jelly, or something appetizing, he shook
his head. "You see that's the trouble"
he said. 81 can't eat. NV stOmach's so
weak nothing will stay on it, The clerk
IN the hotels a good fellow. He brought
meup a bowl of chicken soup this morning,
but the very sight of It made me sick
He had been so kind that | didn't like to
hurt his feelings by making him think that
hadn't eaten It., so after he was gone
| stole into the hall and threw it into the
sink. Then a sad smile | carried the
a.. -. =. 4
him. and 1t did him just as much good as
though had eaten it, you know More
coughing. That's the trouble, can't eat.
The Doctor says am gone up anyway,
and that | had better get into hospital
right away, so as not to die in the hotel.
The proprietor has been 80 kind you see,
that | don't want TO give him any more
trouble"
Here he was seized with another bad
fiji of coughing. He again clutched the
| collar OF his buttOnless coat about the
neck. He accepted some money, and tot
tered away under the tog-envelOped gas
! lights.
Two DAYS afterwards we saw him again.
| With letters Of introduction, he had APP
| piled for admission to various hospitals,
and had been refused. They took in no
! hopeless cases. After telling his story
with intervals of coughing, he sat for
HfALt LiiHuiFs III SllthCts luen ut hdlu III
hOarse whisper and with perceptible
shudder, III you'll give me letter to the
Commissioners Of Charities, III go Ia
| Bellevue. | never think OF it without
thinking of the mOrgue. But IT'S the
only thing | can do. I'll try it anyhow
Another shudder and a long pause.
"Don't let them cutup my body after I'm
dead"
With letters to the warden and commits
sioneTs, he departed. A week atterward
he wrote the following letter:
Am treated with the greatest kind
ness and consideration. | am warm aud
never cold now. II makes a big differ
ence in mass feelings 10 be warm all
the time. / can eat a little, too | had
coffee and beefsteak this morning. II was
I good. but the beefsteak was tough, whew
| Fatty Walsh was through bore yesterday
lie saw me ard stopped and talked with
me a long time. IL die me good in the
hospital. II made the attendants think
that / am somebody. Very nervous, old
man. so loug. TOM"
Three days passed, and he died. He
was neither cut up nor put in the pOtter's
neld. A few friends buried him. The
colin was borne past the mOrgue and
dead-house. Both were full. Since Jan.
/, 2,3G bod es have beea deposited there.
MANY of them undoubtedly started with
as fair prospects as the youth from Fin.
castle, but few Of them met with more
sad tate. For sudden death il happiness