The Londonderry sifter. (South Londonderry, Vt.) 1883-19??, 1889-10-17
A PITIFUL SCENE.

A venerable old man, hale and hearty,
stood before Justice Duffy at the Jefferson
Market Police Court, New York. Although
the SHOWS of nearly seventy winters had
whtened his head and nloustache, he was as
straight as an arrow. He had Roman feat
ures, flashing gray eyes and a ruddy com
plexion. He held asilk batin his left hand,
and his attire was faultless. A smaller man,
made prematureIy old by dissipation, stood
at his side. His clothes were shabby and h:
twirled his frosty moustache with tremulous
fingers. His hollow eyes had a feverish lus
tire, and there were deep lines in his face
His manner was apprehensive, and he
moistened his lips with his tongue as he
pleaded with the white-haired gentleman.
Judge" said the Roman-faced veteran in
courtly manner 81 wish you would com.
nit my son to the Island lie is hopeless
drunkard. 1t is my only hope for his re-
formation"
''Tather, oh, fatherp' exclaimed the man
at his side in accents Of grief, mot this
time, not this timel Please give me one
more chance"
There were tears in his eyes. The old man
was as immovable as statue. He kept his
eyes fixed on the Judge. In terms cold and
almost pitiless he urged the Judge to send
him to the workhouse
Don't listen to him, Judge" said the
younger man. HE don't mean it. Oh, I'm
sure ne 0onU mean III. Father doesn't Know
what he is saying"
''Be quiet" said the Judge 1--WE will hear
you in due season. Old age must have the
precedence. Gray hairs must be respected"
In set terms the stern parent again urged
the punishment Of his son. He had evidently
steeled his nerves before entering court, and
he was as firm as rock Not for an instant,
however, would he trust his eyes TO look upon
his son. Though deaf to his entreaty, the
sfrtlf of
heart.
''Are you this gentleman's SOM" asked
Judge Duffy Of the younger man.
HE is my father, Judge" was the reply
after the fervrish lips had again been moist
ened.
''How old are your the Judge inquired.
''Forty-three years." was the almost in
audible answer.
"Forty-three yearsr' exclaimed the Judge
in a tone of surprise. SIS it possible? Dissipa-
ton has made you prematurely old. You
are older in appearance than your father. y
Then turning to the father, he asked: "For
how long do you want your son committedF
The old man was stone. He had not taken
his eyes from the Judge. "For one year, he
replied in an impassve tone.
''Oh, father p broke in the son in thin,
tremulous voice. "For Gods sake don't make
it year. Give me three months. rl try
and be satisfied with three-not more
Please, Judge" turning to the bench appeal
ingly, ''make it three months. Here's Mr..
Manierre here" pointing to a gentleman in
che background 'he'll say good word for
me-"
The father was obdurate. The son pleaded
70 strenuously that even the heart of the
Judge was touched. 81 might make it nine
months, he said, with an observant look at
che old man.
Twelve months" the Roman urged, de-
spite the sobbing of the degraded son.
Father" the son cried, mot twelve, if you
,ver loved me. Make it six, oh, Judge, make
it six months I'll take six months willingly.
| but not twelve
at is the Judges duty to fix the term Of
Imprisonment" the police justice sternly
| said 'tYou mus both remember that. I'll
| give You five months and il you behave
| Yourself I'll let you off before that time"
THANK you, Judge" the young man
sobbed 'rYou have treated me better than
deserved"
He turned toward the father, but the iron
willed parent had abandoned him, ai.d was
walking from the courtroom as stiff as a
rsmrod. The commitment was made out,
and the officers took the son into prison.
Five minutes afterward the unforgiving
father stood in the corridor of the downtown
elevated station at Eighth street weeping as
though his heart would break.