Wheeling register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1878-1935, 1890-05-23

tall, good-looking man, and was
promenading the hall on his arm. She
recognized me. But when / said, How
do you do. Miss Blank?' she quickly re-
piled:
- 1 am well. Mr.. Lawson, but | am
surprised 10 hear you call me Miss
Blank. When you left Brighton so sud
denly thought / should never see you
again. You left no addreSS-neverc call
cd again. and-well, am married.
" To whom?" | gasped.
ITO Mr. Prize, she replied, pointing
at the same time to the gentleman with
whom she had been. dancing.
THAT ended my life. My Marie, my
dream, was gone. left the hall, went
To low gambling place. and in drink
and gambling endeavored to kill my
grief. 1t lasted but little time, for in
| four months | was pennileSS.
Then came my trial. The men who
played with me Stunned me. My
/ friends shut their doors, and few days
later my last sovereign was gone. |
was utterly stranded, homeless, and I'M
happy as il would be possible to make a
human being. For nights slept in the
cabmen'S coifee-houses; then ! was con-
Sidered a nuisance, and some doorstep
served me for bed. l pawned every
trin6et. decent suit of clotheS-and fin
ally spent three months in the work
house under an assumed name.
1T was there the presence of Marie
haunted me again. One day-ChriSt-
mas day-we were at dinner. Several
rich people came 10 distribute among
us such gifts as tobacco, clothing, etc.
| was hungry and didn't look at the visi-
tors. when suddenly a voice said TO me:
My good man, which would you
prefer, some warm clothing or some
pipes and tobaccO?' | looked up. 1t
was Marie. | rushed from the table out
into the fields, and there | was found,
hours afterward, inSenSible.
In my bed, there in that workhouse
hospital. | wrote the words Of the song
YOU heard me sing to-day. Then ! got
well, and, sick of life, / left the place
and became night Waterman at some
new buildings that were putting up in
AlderSgate street While there the
music of my song came to me. | got n
scrap of manuscript music paper and
iOtted il down. and for time was
happy. NV old friends often passed
me at night, jolly and careless, little
dreaming that James Lawson was the
poor night Waterman who answered
their INDECENT questions.
GOTTEN, when all was still, | poured
out my soul in this little song. and after
awhile. the night gamins used TO come
l. ~.
me il brought back the memory of a
dead love and ruined life. But YOU
are firing of my story. There is little
more TO tell
Il could not endure the solitary medi-
tation of my past. again began to
drink lost my situation, and as a
last resort | thought that perhaps my
little song was worth few ShillingS
and brought il 10 Mr.. Turner.
AT this the fellow burst into tears.
When he was himself again they went
out. and few minutes afterward Mr..
Turner. addressing Lawson, said;
Mr. Lawson, here is los. 1t will be
enough TO get your supper and a decent
room tonight. Tomorrow morning
want Won 10 call here and | shall give
you a good position in my warehouse.
As for your song, l want you TO remem-
Der this: If you will keep sober l will
pay YOU a good royalty, but if you
spend this los. in drink not another
penny will You get"
Lawson left the shop and did not
make his appearance for five days.
Then he was in a condition almost as bad
as when he first entered il. His vest
was gone: his boots were exchanged for
old ones; his hat-well, il was an
apology for a hat. His coat ian old one)
was buttoned tight around his cOllarlesS
neck. and his hair unkempt and his face
unShaven-aS mclean as he was five
DAYS ago. Mr.. Turner looked at him.
He did not even speak to him. The
smell of bad rum sufficiently told him
all he wished TO know. He took half
crown from his pocket, handed it to
Lawson and turned on his heel. Adj
dressing Mr.. r. he said: If this
man comes here again, put him out.
+ The composer of Ever of Thee im-
mediately left the shop. and heaven only
/ knows what his fate has been. Certain
IL is tnat he never called at Turner's
again.
Men. women and children of every
color and cline sing the song of the
tramp. Lawson. And the composer and
his sad life are forgotten and unrecog-
nized in The dear old song, Ever of
Thee