The Bottineau pioneer. (Bottineau, N.D.) 1885-1895, 1889-12-21

ing; then as suddenly appear, after three
or four months absence, as it there was
nothing out of the ordinary in his peculiar
behavior. He was a silent worker when
he "held down" q case, and could stick
faster and show a cleaner proof than any
man in any Office wherein he worked.
None Of his acquaintance seemed to know
from whence he came any more than
they could guess bow long he was
likely to stay in any one place. Every
printing Office knew of him, and recognized
his ability as a frst-class compositor; but
beyond the fact that he answered to the
sobriquet of Red Rube," and was q N un-
reliable drunkard, nothing was known Of
his true name or the status of society from
which he emanated. He was always
clothed in ragged garments that were
many sizes too large for his lean body,
and as no one ever saw him wear q new
suit it was surmised he had a chronic lean
ing TOWARD hand me downs. Despite his
red nose, which was as glossy as a street.
stand apple. his face was comely. His
pompadour bristles environed a forehead
that betokened an intellect Of no mean
order, while his dropping mustache an
dreamy eyes added to the general pic
turesqueness of his appearance. His
lady's, and limited that he might have been
Graded within the patrician circle of Quail
ity-oorners. But everything was simply
surmise. He WAS nobody" SO he said
himself, and i'm his maudlin c%olloquies
with himself he would say, II care for No.
body and Nobody cares for nae. We're
great chums, Nobody and me-"
One Christmas morning he crawled from
under the lea side Of a hay-stack, where
he had slowed himself in a drunken stupef
on the might previous, and gazed around
him with bleary, blinking eyes, while he
tried to collect his scattered senses and
recollect how he came to put up" at such
a queer hotel.
II wonder where I am and how I got
here !" he calculated, as he drew his rags
closer to his sbivering form. II wonder if
to-day is tomorrow or yesterday! I feel
"a ther reck:sh- 1t l haven't slept too long,
to-day should be Christmas. Merry
Christmas, Nobody! Let's shake hands.
back on your pard yet, have you2 Now
who's going TO treat. you or me? And
how much have We left to treat? Christ
mas, too! We should treat each other roy
ally to-day"
He Owed his purple hands deep into the
recess of his tatters and brought forth two
cents and a printers MO card.
"Rather a slim outlook for me, Nobody:
there isn't even enough fol. you" And he
AlHU0 ALOLucI 1IuItlcoo 6cdICus NOSoAAS!
Well, I'll stand treat to a frozen cocktail"
he resumed, as he placed an icicle in his
mouth.
"Sizzled, did it, Nobody? Mine did, too.
1t isn't the sort of an e~ye-opener We like,
eh? Whew! how the cold bites. Well
hunt q Christmas feather and try III luck.
Perhaps something will turn up"
Several geese feathers we're frozen to the
ice in the wagon ruts near the spot OF
which he stood. and he broke the iossy tip
from the largest and held it between his
thumb and fore-fnger.
"A merry Christmas and good luck with
it" he said to the feather:
~Now, vagrant plume from downy breast,
Like US thou'rt doomed to roam,
A straggler, poor, without O nest,
Or place to call thy home.
So, wandering nomad, be thou kind,
And guide us on this dav;
For whittier thou art blown by wind,
Well thither make our way.
Blow We west or blow ye east,
Blow to us O Christmas feast"
He leaned back and holding the tip
above his lips blew it towards the sky. At
first it tioated upward in a direct line above
him, as though anxious to get as far as
possible from the tainted breath of its
newly formed acquaintance, then changed
its course and tuttered toward a church,
spire from whose belfry the tinkling chimes