The progressive farmer. [volume] (Winston, N.C.) 1886-1904, 1889-07-02
JOE'S STORY.
By FRANK H. CONVERSE.

BY RAN H. CONVERSE.
Mother died some time last May. There
wasn't anyone I belonged to then, so I
had to hustle for myself, like most of us
newspaper chaps have to. I hadn't any
regular place to sleep, but it comm on
in summer / didn't care so much, 'cept-
ing, of course, when it rained. Then a
fellow can generally find cover some
where, if it isn't so nice.
But this night I'm going to tell of was
pleasant and warm. The "cop" didn't
drive me off my private s9ttee in Central
Park till nigh one in the morning. Guess
he oversight himself.
When I'm reused up that way, I gen
orally make Morrison's way down town,
my headquarters. It's a high-toned place,
so its cheaper for me to stop outside.
But there's the light from the windows,
and every time the big doors swing open
a fellow can see, just for a minute, eating
and drinking going on, and if he imagines
a good deal, why it's almost as good as
being inside.
Three swell looking chaps was stand
ing outside when [ got there. Not for
the same reason l was, though. They'd
been to the theatre, or somewhere's else,
and as | heard one of 'em say, it was too
early in the evening to think of going to
bed.
It was Jack Meagher said that. Gland
some Jack" they used to call him in our
ward, where he was raised. All US fell
lows know Handsome Jack" by sight.
Though you'd never think he come from
any such low down place as Water street,
TO look at his swell rig and hear him talk.
But they say he's one of them kind that
catches on easy to real gentlemen's ways.
And he's great on faro and poker, so of
course he's hand and glove with chaps
that's trying to see life through a club
winder. .
Now, though it's me says it, I've a bit
of a voice of my own, wherever I got it.
For spell I was choir boy atSt. Michaels,
with a white surplus and all that sort of
thing. But the others chaffed m9 about
not having any shirt, so 1 left.
So sometimes, when / was stuck on
papers or extra hard up, I used to sing
for nickels front of Morrison's Just about
this time of night-the "catchy" songs
that happens to be going, such as we
chaps pick up on the street.
So when Handsome Jack" sees me
he calls OUT:
"Hello," he says, "heres Joe, the boy
that sings" And nothing to do but the
three of 'em must take me inside for a
song.
There was another one of the party 1
knowed by sight. He used to buy pa
pers Of me regular, one time. I heard
'em say his folks left him a pile of money
and he was gettin' through it as fast as
Handsome jack" and such as he, could
help him. But I amt givin' no one
away in this story. I'm not one of that
sort. | amt a New York reporter, and
don't you forget it. So this man was
Smith-John Smith. P'raps you've heard
the name, but it isn't the same man-it's
a second cousin of his. But it was him
that set me down to one of the little
tables with a plate of sandwiches.
After we once got inside, Smith didn't
seem to have much to say to the others,
or to anybody else, for that matter. He
stood leaning up against the bar counter
with a cigar in his mouth, but I see he'd
forgot to light it. Some of the young
fellers he knew joked him a bit, but he
didn't seem to notice it much. And I
kind of wondered what allied him-good
looking, plenty of money, and all the rest
of it.
Handsome Jack" with a friend of
his, sat down to the table nigh mine, with
the drinks between EN-. I've got a pair
of sharp ears of my own, and | heard the
other one say:
"Smith's about squeezed dry, eh,
Jack?"
eyes, poor fool" Jack says, as easy as
| uaT, rlnaco. Hr1+h1n~ ro0ro 10 ho o0@
from him. If he wants to borrow any
thing, just give him the cold shake.
That's just what I shall do. A fellows
got to look out for number one in this
world"
The man with Jack nodded. And l
remember thinking what a healthy lot of
friends Smiths money had brought him.
Well, after I got through, I stood up
like a little man to pay for what I had =
in my way. I sung 'em two or three of
the things that was popularest then, but
somehow they didn't seem to take.
"Can't you give US some different from
those stale chestnuts 2" some one saws,
and I pulled up short. I was going to
leave them then and there, but Smith it
was who stopped me.
"Never mind 'em, Joe," he says kind
of low like; "can't you think of some
thing a little Notwithstanding none of
US have heard?"
Whatever made me do it I don't know
to this day. 1t was what they used to
sing at St. Michael's. Just one verse was
all | could remember then:
Il was not always thus, nor prayed that Thou
Shouldst lead me on
| / loved to chose and see my path. But now
Lead Thou me on
/ loved the garish day, and spite of tears,
Pride ruled my heart. Remember not past years. "
OF course l haven't got learning, 'cept
such kind as a fellow picks up in the
street. And I never used to sense the
meaning of the church music, like I did
the tunes. And when I got through l
wondered what made it so still in the
room for a minute.
Smith was the first one spoke. Not
spoke exactly, for it was a kind of a