Sacramento daily record-union. [volume] (Sacramento [Calif.]) 1875-1891, 1890-11-29
UEDER L CoLOHNADE.

Beggars and crossing-sweepers gathered
their rags more closely about them, while
rich men, clad in heavy overcoats, cursed
the climate and sought shelter in the we'll
warmed rooms of their clubs. Only those
constrained by duty or poverty were
abroad in the streets on such day as this.
Among this number were the sandwich
men, who paraded the streets with their
customary slow and spiritless demeanor,
with hang-dog looks and shutting feet.
One after the other the procession of these
silent, depressed figures passed up or down
the busiest thoroughfares. So many hours
to keep going, SO many weary steps to
pace, for the munifcent pay of eighteen
pence day. Day after day to carry about
the tale of other peoples pleasures, with
their own woe and degradation eating like
iron into their souls.
Truly, they earned enough to keep body
and soul together; but in many of these
cases it were better for the end to come
quickly-better aye, that they had never
been born. Under the cOlonnade in Carlton
street, a short cut from Regent street 10
the Haymarket, is a favorite resort of
sandwich-men for the midday rest. In
this unfrequented little street they gather
together silently, and for a short space the
oppressive boards are laid aside, and they
sit or stand in comparative ease.
To-day many of them have found a
warmer shelter within doors, but two,
more wretched and ragged than the rest,
are seated on the curb-stone.
They have removed their posters, which
incline against the pillars. One placard
Is the advertising medium of a cheap
restaurant, and upon it is printed in large
and attractive capitals, "Do you want a
good dinner? Go to Johnson's, 800
Strand" Upon the other poster, Broken
Down. Farcical Comedy, Star Theater,"
seems sarcastic comment on its bearer.
There is little traffic IN this side street, be-
yond the occasional footsteps of passenger
hurrying through on some errand. There
are no shops to attract idlers, and only
dreary bed-chambers on the upper stories
overlook the quiet street.
The men who sat patiently side by side
on the curb-stone did not appear to be ac-
quainted. Chance had apparently brought
them together as near neighbors for the
first time. Yet they were beyond curios-
ity it seemed, as companions in misfortune
mostly are, for neither looked at the other.
The older and more ragged man of the
two was very thin and starved-looking.
His hollow eyes looked out of shrunken
face, which, but for the unkempt beard,
would have appeared like piece of
parchment stretched over skull. He
shivered from time to time so violently
IL Ia o,,lshIxv
''Its cold day, mate. These internal
winds creep round every corner" he said
at last, as if in excuse OF mortal weak
ness. The other man was Irish, and his
speech betrayed him as well as twinkling
eyes, in which ghost of merriment yet
lived.
81 believe We, me bhoy Ye need to be
lined well inside and out not to feel Of
'em" He pointed to the poster he had
laid aside, and laughed at his own joke.
Don't we oughter go to Johnson's?"
But the other one apparently was beyond
any perception of irony, for he only rose
stitfly, saying:
"I'll have on my sandwich again. 1t
will keep the draughts out, anyhow" He
pointed to the holes in his tattered coat
before he replaced his boards, and re-
manned standing. While he was engaged
adjusting his boards his companion looked
him up and down for the first time.
"Ye've seen better days, FL 60 bail. Ye
weren't always sandwich"
The gaunt one answered sharply, 'No."
The red-haired Irishman grinned again.
DWELL, it amt many as begins young in
this line"
The older man shifted his boards to a
more comfortable angle. "Not a profess
sion that demands any particular ability
or honesty, is it? We aren't likely to run
away with these. It's about the last trade
man takes to before he turns his face to
the wall"
"Better half loaf than no bread, say ]"
responded the other.
''You won't kick at the bridge that
carries you over" jeered the man who
spoke like gentleman.
The Irishman had taken out of his
pocket little roll of paper which he
opened carefully, as if very precious,
shielding its contents from the rough
. wind.
"Have some baccy?" he said to his COM
rade, as though to conciliate him. The man
ofeducated voice and speech bent to look at
the
"Why, it's cigar ends" he said in sur
prise.
"For sure ?' and hoarse laugh sounded
down the silent street. Don't We gofor to say
ye think as the likes of me buys Turkish
tobacco by the pound. chews of these,
and l smokes of thin, and they does me a
power of good" While he spoke he went
on cutting the ends with well-worn
pocket knife. "Where do l get EN-, We
wonders? Ye are green one. Why, l
collects of thin bits outside the clubs.
Sometimes thin young swells will chuck
half cigar right away-rrime sort.
That's rare luck for me-" Then, having
completed the cutting, dirty little pipe
appeared from some receptacle in the col
lection of rags he called a coat, and pres
emily he began to spoke. The man lean
ing against the colonnade watched him
silently for space.
you've been soldier" he said at last.
The dirty little pipe was removed from
the Irishman's mouth, and with a look of
surprise he turned on his companion.
"For sure me bhoyl But We don't
niver say We see any drill left in me?"
For a moment he Strengthened himself
and made pantomimic gesture of salut-
ing.
sWere you ever in active service?"
With an animated gesture the old SOL
der swore big oath, saying, "I've sent a
few niggers to kingdom come" Then,
with more detected air, "But it's twenty
years sinst left the regiment; 1t was soon
after the New Zealand war"
The gentleman in rags looked more
closely at him, saying quickly, ''The New
Zealand war-were you there?"
"Troth and | was See my game leg"
Here the man extended it, stroking it
compassionately. 'Tve got bullet in me
vet from one of thin cursed Maoris. |
was in the One Hundred and Twentieth
Foot, c Company, the smartest lot in the