Waterbury evening Democrat. [volume] (Waterbury, Conn.) 1887-1895, 1891-02-27

WELCOME RELIEF.
a square meal he forgot even the means
by which the money had been obtained.
Food was his one greet need. He looked
about him for a restaurant. There vas
none in sight. Away to the left was the
elevated railroad. He knew that it
would take him down town where eat
ing houses would be plenty, and he hur-
ried to q station.
An L-train at ten miles an hour is not
rapid transit to o man who has not dined
for two days. Before he reached the
City Hall station Drane fully realized
how badly New York needed another
and quicker system. Electricity in a
moment of excitement would have been
the proper thing to keep pace with his
impotence. However, the journey
ended before the tissues of his body had
wholly wasted away: and two minutes
later he was seated at restaurant
table and had ordered just seventy cents
worth of food. Nothing, from fish-balls
tosterrapin, had ever tasted SO good to
him as that soup.
"If ever meet a hungry beggar
again" thought he, when the food had
begun to take effect, "I'll treat him to a
ten-course dinner"
The world took on different aspect
as he ate. He felt sure that every thing
would come out right. His acquaint-
ance at Murray street would gladly help
him out of his predicament, and he
could laugh at his strange experience.
With tight waist band and ninety-hve
cents in his pocket, he was q rich man
again as he sTrolled up to the desk to
pay his check. Just there temptation
seized upon him. He wanted to smoke.
1t seemed as If his longing for food had
been feeble to his present craving for
just one fragrant Whit of tobacco.
Glow much are those cigars?" he
asked, indicating some which the man
at the desk had just spread before Gus
toner.
Fifteen cents-two for q quarter"
was the reply.
Drane reflected that man so poor az
was could not afford to pay fifteen
cents for cigar when he could get it
for twelve and half by simply purchas-
ing two. Overcome by this unassailable
arithmetic, he laid down his last quar-
ter, and in another moment he was en-
joying one of the weeds for which New
York is justly infamous to such degree
as he had never enjoyed a good one in
his life. But he was penniless again.
He crossed City Hall Park with firm
step, and his head in the air. His woes
were floating away in smoke; his hopes
were high. He walked down Murray
street and quickly found the number he
sought The name Richard Fl. Billings,
in white letters on a window of the
lower story, set all doubts at rest; and,
indeed, the man himself sat at a desk in
plain view from the sidewalk. Lawrence
identified him at once from description,
and he felt that he was saved.
Mr.. Billings, however, was engaged in
earnest conversation, and Lawrence,
after staring at him minute through
the window, decided to walk around the
block and give him a chance to finish
| his business. When he had completed
the circuit Mr.. Billings was no longer
in sight. The rolling top Of the desk
| was closed, and when Drane noted that
| fact his heart stood still. He hurried
into the Office.
"Mr. Billings has just left for the
Grand Central depot" said an Office boy.
''He is going on to Boston tonight. If
you hurry up there you can catch him.
Have you got message for him?'
'No; wish to see him personally"
$50 on" said the boy, ''you want to
strike him for the price of a beer"
| Drane could not wait to reprove the
youth for his impudence. He was in
too much Of a hurry to get to the depot.
He learned that tho train which Mr..
Billings was to take left at six O'Clock.
1t was then half-past Eve.
When he had reached the street he re-
f1ected that It would be necessary to
know where the Grand Central depot
was, before going there. He had sup
posed that If it was central it must
be near at hand, and he learned with
horror that 1t was more than three miles
away. To reach it on foot in time was
out of the question, and he had not a
| cent?
He cursed his folly in leaving Billings
door unguarded, and was inclined to be
offended with Billings for going to Bos-
ton. The world had turned blue again.
He could see nothing ahead of him but
another night in the street.
For the next three hours he wandered
about the lower part of the town, and at
nino o'clock he found himself in front
of the Pennsylvania railroad ferry-house
| at the foot of Cortlandt street. Then
the thought came over him like flash:
/