Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1890-05-11

| on the corner of Second avenue and Smith
! field street was kept by Scotch-Irish Pres
byterian of the utmost strictness. He was a
white-haired old man, with a conscience
that held him in close bondage. He was
fond of good drink, as even the strictest men
were, 1 think, in those days; but his con-
science somehow forbade him to sell liquor.
A LITTLE ROMANCE.
So he rented his bar to a handsome fellow
with winning way, who became boarder
| at the hotel. The old man had several
| daughters, who had been brought up in
strictness, and who were the delight of his
old heart. Unknown to him one of them
fell in love with the handsome barkeeper,
and she eioped with him, leaving in her
room note OF confession and trunk full
of clothes which she had not been able to
take away with her. The father found the
note and read it, and the opposite neighbors
saw a surprising thing. He said not
word; he made no fuss of any sort. He
simply opened the window OF his girls
room up there in the third story and pitched
her trunk and its contents out into the
street.
Then very slowly, for he was old and his
child's action had fairly broken his heart,
he went down stairs, picked up the shattered
trunk and carried it on his shoulder up to
the room again. But not to keep it there.
He pitched it out of the window a second
time, and third, and so on until there was
not enough left for him to gather up. And
then he went to bed and stayed there for
months, too i'll to stand on his feet. It is
pleasant to know that there was reconcilia-
ton at last. But could anything better
demonstrate what grim stuff was in some of
those oldfellows?
have spoken of Henry Clay. Probably
that statesman was responsible for more long
boards than any other one man. A multi
tude OF his admirers vowed never to shave
their faces or have their hair cut until he
was seated in the Presidential chair, and the
result was
DISASTROUS TO THE BARRIERS.
To such vow as that was traceable the
long, heavy black beard of the man who
compelled me to listen to Hamlet's soliloquy
on Liberty street. He had kept his pledge
to the letter, and think kept it unbroken
till the day of his death. But it was before
the vow was made that he shaved himself in
the most startling manner perhaps of any
Pittsburger who was ever known. 1t was
when he was young man and a noted beau
and man of fashion. He had just returned
from Paris wearing mustache of great
luxuriance and of the latest Partisan droop.
Immediately all the men in the summer
hotel where he was sojourning had their
mustaches shaped as nearly as possible like
his. This he could not tolerate. He did
not like to be copied. although he did like
to be admired. So one morning after all
the guests had assembled at breakfast he
made his appearance among them with one
half of his mustache cut smoothly of, the
other half being left in its original luxu-
RANT beauty. He walked the length OF the
dining room to his place, stood for a moment
looking composedly about the room and
then placidlY ate his breakfast
He seems to have had peculiar horror of
being copied in any OF his fashions of dress
or personal adornment- 1t is related OF him
that one hot summer day he seated himself
in chair in front OF Browns Hotel (where
the Central now is), in a harlequin suit,
which was intended as crushing rebuke to
all who might have patterned their garments
after his; and it is safe to say that the imi-
tation came to an end then and there.
One side of him was blue, and the other
side of him was buff Even his hat was half
blue and half buff. His coat was likewise
diversified, the dividing line extending
along his spine. One leg of his trousers was |
of the one color, the other leg of the contrary |
color. And his stockings were assorted in |
the same way.
1t is quite within the limits of moderation
to say that such man as that was eccentric.
But eccentricity may be the companion of
much goodness In this case it belonged to
one who was as fond of doing deeds of secret
kindness as he was OF performing acts of
public oddity. JAMES C. PURDY.