Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1889-07-11
New Series, Vol. 20, No %.

had to return to London on business
and when | went back to Brighton Sht
was gone? .-
"Three months after met her at ball
She had just finished a waltz with tall
/ good looking man,and was promenading
the hall on his arm. She recognized me
but when said, How do you do, Miss
Blank?' she quickly replied:
s'l'm well, Mr. Lawson, but am sur
prised to hear you call me Miss Blank.
When you left Brighton SO suddenly |
thought should never see you again,
and-well, am married.
"To whom?" gasped.
40 Mr.. Prize" she replied, pointing
at the same time to the gentleman with
whom she had been dancing.
THAT ended my life. My Marie, my
dream, was gone. left the hall, went
to low gambling place, and in drink
and gambling endeavored to kill my
grief 1t lasted but little time, for in
four months l was penniless.
"Then came my trial. The men who
played with me stunned me. My friends
shut their doors, and in few days my
last sovereign was gone. | was utterly
stranded, homeless and unhappy as it
would be possible to make human be-
ing. For nights l slept in the cabmen's
coffee houses; then was considered a
nuisance, and some door step served me
for bed. L pawned every trinket, de-
cent suit of clothes everything, and f.
nally spent three months in work
house under an assumed name.
at was there the presence of Marie
haunted me again. One day-Christ-
mas day-we were at dinner. Several
rich people came to distribute among us
such gifts as tobacco, warm clothing,
etc. was hungry and didn't look at
the visitors, when suddenly voice 1
knew said to me, my good man! which
would you prefer, some warm clothing
or some pipes of tobacco?" l looked up.
1t was Marie. l rushed from the table
out into the fields, and there was found,
hours after, insensible.
"In my 6ed, there in that work-house
hospital, wrote the words of the song
you heard me sing to-day. When | got
well. and sick of the life, left the place
and became nightwatchman at some
new buildings they were putting up in
Aldersgate street. While there the music
of my song came to me. l got a scrap
of manuscript music paper and jOtted it
down, and for time l was happy. My
old friends often passed me at night,
jolly and careless, little dreaming that
James Lawson was the poor night
watchman who answered their indOlent
questions.
"Often, when all was still, poured out
my soul in this little song, and after
awhile the night gamins used to come
and listen to me. 1t pleased them. To
me it brought back the memory of
dead love and a ruined life. But you
are tired of my story. There is little
more to tell.
II could not endure the solitary medi-
tation of my past. l again began to
drink. l lost my situation, and as a
last resort l thought that perhaps my
little song was worth a few shillings,
and brought it to Mr.. Turner"
At this the poor fellow burst into
tears. When he was himself again
they went out, and few minutes after
ward Mr.. Turner, addressing Lawson
said:
"Mr. Lawson, here is ten shillings. 1t
will be enough to get your supper and
decent room to- might. Tomorrow morn
ing l want you to call here, and l shall
give you a>good position in my ware
house. AS for yOur song, l want you to
remember this: If you keep sober | will
pay you a good royalty; but if you spend
this ten shillings in drink, not another
penny will you get"
Lawson left the shop, and did not
make his appearancef for five days. Then
he was in condition almost as bad as
when he first entered it. His vest was
gone, his boots were exchanged for old
ones, his hat was-well, it was an apOl-
ogy for hat. His coat ian old one) was
buttoned tight around his cOllarless neck,
and his face was unkempt and unShaven,
as unclean as it was five days ago.
Mr.. Turner looked at him. He did
not even speak to him. The smell of
bad rum sufficiently told him all he
wished to know. He took half crown
from his pocket, handed it to Lawson,
and turned on his heel. Addressing Mr. |
T he said: "If this man comes here i
again, put him out"
The composer of "Ever of Thee" i'm
left the shop, and heaven on
ly knows what his fate has been. Ger
tain it is that he never called at Turner's |
again.
Men, women and children of every |
color and cline sing the song of the
tramp, Lawson. And the composer and
MS sad life are forgotten and unrecog-
nized in the dear old song, "Eyer OF
Thee. ."-EngliSh Paper.