Phillipsburg herald. [volume] (Phillipsburg, Kan.) 1882-1905, 1886-10-09

Mr.. Phibbs was indeed of a retiring
disposition. Moreover, he stood 50
high in his profession that despite its
frequent Interruptions he was beyond
the fever and heat of uercenary cOmpe-
titiOn. On q certain night Mr.. Phibbz
was plOdding his way through Allen
street in reply to a professional call. "A
dark, dismal street it was, on which a
burning sun had beamed down all day
long; a bakers oven that had been roast
ing rich and poor and was now coming
cooling of, while the chimes Of the far
away church bells sang themselves to
rest; a black cavern Of a street, fit, you
would think, only for murder and rapine
Mr.. Phibbs was In it, and his eyes, very
sharp, black eyes, set In dark caves OF
sockets, with lashes like bushes above
them, wandered up and down the great
stOrehouses. He was a well built man
with very long nose and an over Lip
that was always being bitten by his
white teeth as though it hal done
wrong.
On this night he carried a satchel IL
his hand. Who can tell his thoughts as his
ewes ran up and down the blank fronts.
Were they Of all the precious things
stored within, Of the fabrics dainty and
rare, or OF the tired weary hands that
had made them, and could never touch
them again? Mr.. Phibbs stopped at the
door of one. He smOOthed the iron bolts
and soothingly, as though the bolts had
no one to blame but themselves fol
not knowing him sooner. He ran his
hand up and down the iron shutter also
In a reproachful manner. How still and
calm the great street is, like a cathedral
when the organ is hushed. Quickly the
satchel is opened and a bar Of steel is Ia
the hand Of the burglar. 1t rests on the
iron shutter. Harkl What was
that? A step? No, only the sobbing Of
the wind. The bar cuts into tle irOI
deeper and deeper. Again the sound
lower and fainter, but still the same
The bar Of steel is In the mans left hand
and a e canning revolver In his right
when the sound comes again, this time
down her vail Of clouds, and the white
light shines down on a little childish
face there at the cracksmBn's feet.
Mr.. Phibbs, from the nature Of his
profession, was accustomed to surprises
He bent his glance, and saw that the
| face below him was not Of Allen street
1t was a tender face-Only to be kissed
by a mothers lips. On the little finger
OF the left hand cleaned a tiny gold ring
The collar at the throat was lace, and the
other garments Of rich texture. Mr.
Phibbs read the story IN a second. lie
knew some mamma shopping In Grand
street had lost her child, and he knew
that the baking sun had almost stiIle6
| the Life beat in the little one. He Eel
| the pulse. 1t had almost ceased to beat
What would he do? Let it die? i
would only be one more little unfOrtun.
ate swallowed up by the street, or per
I chance cast on the bosom Of the river
II he were to give 1t to a policeman h'
might as well say he was Mr.. Phibbs a
once. Let It die? Had he not seeI
others prettier and fairer smother anC
starve In the tenements? There Is
sound Of footsteps along the way. Slow
steady footsteps, and MIR. Phibbs knew
| they belonged to a man In a blue uni
form. Would he escape himself ang
trust the policeman to find the child
The footsteps are nearer
A memory comes over a mans mind
an lndistEinct, strange memory, and
face Wrinkled and carsWOrn comes witt
it. A face, 1t Is looking very calm an,
+ Mr.. Phihbs sees a rocking cradle and
/ what Is that? The face bends down an,
kisses the one In the cradle. How Ik
and unlike a burglar. Like a weir,
/ shadow a man Is speeding noisalassl,
down Allan street. At his breast Is ia
face Of a child. Beyond the great ware
houses flies the man; beyond the shut
ing men and noisy women on q hgh5e
street, beyond the dark forms aleepinI
= the tho1oughfars down where th
ha thilkest. but sever ID