Courier Democrat. (Langdon, N.D.) 1891-1920, 1891-07-30
"SLUG SEVEN'S SUB"
BY EMMA LYNDON.

/ ~|-'AN'A-A
He came into the composing-room
one afternoon, nearly exhausted from
long walk of twenty five miles since
morning, and wet and cold with the
dismal rain and sleet that was falling
outside.
He did not present an attractive ap.
pearance-a face that needed both
shaving and wa. hing, Drowned by
constant exposure-and a pair Of
great eyes that looked hungrily
around the strange rooms as if in
search OF something he never found; a
coat that might once have graced the
form OF a gentleman of leisure-prob-
ably contributed by some "dude''
printer in philanthropic mood, but
which had long since lost the last trace
OF respectability-an old SLOUGH hat,
battered by wind and wheather, and
hard usage, like it's owner.
No one could have told, or even
guessed with any degree of accuracy,
the mans age. He may have been fiji
ty or thirty-fve years old. No mat
ter-no one cared sufficiently to in
quire or wonder. He walked slowly
across the room, stopping at last to
watch dreamily the dett fingers of one
OF the printers who was distributing
his case for the nights work.
The worker glanced over his shout
der at another man who sat behind
him, saying indifierently:
"Here you are, slug SEVEN"
Slug seven, who had evidently been
longing for "sub," threw himself
careessly off his stool, depositing a
dozen lines of type on this stone,
and turning to the stranger, said:
want to work? Jump on to that
case"
The tramp hesitated-only second
-murmuring something about being
tired; then YEARLY took off his shabby
coat, exposing to view shirt which
had no original color, and vest
equally grlmy and dilapidated. But
when once at work, sending the type
hither and thither in the process of
distribution, the weary look on his
face grew a trifle less percnptible, and
an occasional smile lurked in the cor.
ner of his mouth at the jokes that
went around the room.
Outside, the November sleet beat
against windows, and the streets wele
almost deserted. Within the COM
posing-room all was life and fun and
laughter; merry talk mixed with the
click, click of type from a hundred
fingers.
Thoughtless. light-hearted workers,
earning their money deity and swift
ly, and managing to be "dead broke"
each week as payday came around.
''Where did you work last?" asked
a young fellow who stood beside the
tramp.
Gin Philadelphia" he answered,
stopping his work for a moment.
"But that was two weeks ago, haven't
had any work since"
"ThaU's hard luck" carelessly.
"We fellows are used to that" with
q little bitter laugh.
"Pretty tired, aren't you?" said
''slue seven" walking up and noticing
the weary look in his ''sub's" face.
eyes; and have a pain between
my shoulders that cut like a knife.
must work tonight, though" turning
away to pick up handful OF type.
A tall, heavy-built man stalked in
to the room at this juncture. He
glanced sharply at the new man, TAX
ing in his general outside appearance
in one swift look, from the brown. I'M
shaver face to the shabby shoes that
scarcely concealed his feet. A sudden
hush fell upon the noisy crowd. The
business manager Of the concern was
not inclined to encourage levity He
walked over to the foreman's table,
whispered something in his ear and re-
ceived the answer.
lies all right: a little rough-look-
ing, but a printer is printer we're
three frames short tonight"
The business manager walked out,
after which he Jokes and general free
dom OF speech were resumed.
Six O'Clock sounded from the differ
ent city shop-bells, the whistles blew,
the old composing-room clock changed
out six sharp notes. The Office was
nearly deserted. The tramp fingered,
looking with a true compositor's
pride at the heaped-up case out of
which he might "pull a good string"
If he were not so tired, and that old
pain in his shoulders were not quite
SO sharp. though almost taking his
breath al times.
cit looks as if would have to wait
till lunch-tlme for my supper, but it's
a long time till IL O'Clock tonight"
he SAID to himself, as he walked over
to the sink to wash up. No one had
seemed to notice that ne must need
food-that he would be obliged to
bunk under his case-in the
waste-box, or press-room-anywhere
for want of q little money
to procure a lodging outside. None
of the smart yonng printers who held
regular cases on that enterprising
sheet could be expected TO take to
their respectable boarding places a
man so dirty and uncouth-looking as
this tramp. Even if their hearts
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