Evening journal., 1891-03-17
A PLANT FROM PICARDY

A midwinter night and bitter, bitter
cold Not so much snow, but a wind
which had an arctic anger in It. II stung
the face like vitriol, and froze the blood
and almost made fellow cry out, as If he
were IN pain like
Three Of us, just common newspaper re.
porters, were scurrying through Mail
street, half running, to get to warm
place. We had been at work up town, try
ing to find certain facta about man who
mad been mysteriously murdered in the
TenderIoin precinct--Johnny Spellman, the
| Jockey
Well, the City Hall park was bleak
enough. The wind shrieked across it. and
the ball, with its old white marble steps
stood over yonder, pallid CHASTITY. Not q
| human being in sight. Nobody would stay
out Of doors such night
| The lights in the tall buildings in Park
row and in the low entrance to Hitchcock's
ever blessed old cellar coffee house were
hnppy. CHEEKY beacons
| It was late, well on toward midnight
| That made rs hurry all the more
Even Cncle Sans tagged ont old horses
and wagons which forever wait in the Mail
street alley behind that grim stone coping.
where big bags OF mail matter for all parts
/ Of the world are bundled In and out had
disappeared out of the cold There was no
/ sound Of the mail clerk voice calling Of
the bags
We reached the middle Of the Mail street
| block We were on the north side OF the
street. | ran in the rear of the procession
Out Of the shadows Of the park came a
| man Ia voice which upon that night
wind was the most piteous sound ever
heard he cried, stretching out one hand in
a surpliant way;
| "Parlez Francois, monsieursn
! II was strange, courteous question to
come wailing amid the bowling OF 4 storm
turned and then stopped. Then in hon.
est amazement and pity said, my Godi
| yes" | had learned some French in boy
hood, then had bought drinks for Paris
boulevardier, and fulfilled the dubious lin.
| guistic requirements Of New Jersey col
ege. had a deep seated love for the
! french people and deal Of fondness for
the French tongue
There in that wretched night when
| heard that question, saw the honest peas
ants-simple, sturdy folk-toiling adeld Ia
/ far Provence. saw the Breton fisher,
| singing as he patched his nets on the shore
Of the dear old sen. / saw gay Paris and
| the sweet valley Of the Loire. And here.
alone clad thinly, was son Of that
! France, stranger In great selfish city.
IN great, strange and selfish land, upon
! night when no mortal ought to have
shown his nose out of doors.
He was just askingrl learned IL in his
FIRST lonely Question-iust asking for some
one to give him helping hand-a syllable
OF direction.
ne two other reporters went pelting
aiong. | looked at the wanderer. man
OF forty, maybe Old to begin life anew
He was above medium height little
stopped in the shoulders, on account Of the
cold perhaps lie was oyercoatless, bare
handed, and carried a small parcel under
his arm, Over his head was drawn tight a
knit cap, such as football players wear.
II was woful story be told me, stand
ing there in the open on that awful night
with the sparse flakes flying all about us.
lie had come that day on the Bretagne
The passage had been very stormy a fel
low passenger a Picard, who smelled ter
rihly Of garlic, had taken all his money
His chest, containing his worldly posses
sions, he had left at Castle Garden-that
was before the barge office days. His wife
and two childrcn-ohl such pretty chill
dren-were at home in Picardy. lie was
hungry and thirsty No one but an hon
est man begging in the streets Of New
York would admit that he was thirsty
Common reporters are not habitually
well 70 do | had sixty-ive cents / gave
il al TO him. told him about the rich
possibilities OF beef and beans. Then di
rected him to a ten cent lodging house
Then, penniless, hurried on after ms
companions | expected to walk an the
way TO Twenty-frst street But then
had rowed in the Fights in the fall and
weighed lS2, and was equal TO il.
God bless you" in French sounds vel
upon a fierce night wind.
told the fellows when overlook them
that it was a relief 70 find an honest beg
gar One Of them, who knows McGlorS
and Fat Flynn and .. b.. and has beer
among the oyster pirates of Maryland and
the Shanghaiers Of Greenwich street anC
.fucatan, curled his smooth, churchly
looking lips aud shifted at my story that
mad gone broke" on beggar
) Spring came. The trees in City Hal
park were budding. Tramps had come {,
sit under the electric lights in the, circll
and listen TO the night noises.
Work was done. Evening was JUS
I changing into late night Inc same threi
/ Of us sauntered across Mail street. wend
! ing toward Park place station. The odo
Of ink and the clang of the presses wer
behind u.s. But a soft breeze played abou
the corners and stirred the dust in th
street.
e A man came out of the shadows Of tn
& park
D He stood looking at the bright light
r from the postoflice, where the great bun
dies of letters and papers were being lum
d bered into waiting vehicles. In a voic
n which, upon the night wind, was the mos
r utterly piteous sound l ever heard, h
IS cried stretching out one hand in a suppl
ant way;
d "Pariez vous Francois, monsieur"
, It was a strange, courteous question c
break in on the yernal quiet of a sprin
night. I turned, then stopped.
: The man who knew McGlory laughe
= bitterly, twice, "Hai Harp
= said MY God yes" I had learne
:, some French in boyhood. Then / ha
. bought drinks for Paris boulevardiel
and had-well, never mind about that