The Maryville times. (Maryville, Tenn.) 1884-1944, 1892-03-02
TEMPERANCE NOTES.
a SALOON INCIDENT.
The Death-struggle of Drlnk-Degrad-
ed Old Man.


The Death-struggle of Drink-Degrad-
ed Old Man.
There was the sound of the chink,
chink of glasses, ribald laughter and
cursing, while the atmosphere was
thick with the fumes of tobacco and
alcohol The hour was near midnight
and the eyes of the men sitting around
the little tables drinking and playing
cards were heavy and bloodshot The
round, red face of the bartender was
flushed withibeer and exertion; for his
patrons were drinking heavily and
often. Presently there was lull in the
business and the barkeeper improved
the opportunity by leaning forward and
resting both elbows upon the counter
in front of him.
For some time a shabbily dressed old
man, standing near the door and lean
ing against the soiled wall of the
room, had been watching the dealing
out of the liquor with feverish, blood
almost to emaciation and his gray hair
and beard were long and unkempt.
The threadbare, black coat, which
chung loosely about his attenuated
frame, was buttoned up tightly around
his throat and down his breast AS he
stood there his long, thin hands would
clasp and unclasp themselves nervous
ly, while every now and then tremor
would pass over his frame When the
barkeeper leaned his fat arms upon
the counter the old man gave quick,
nervous glance around the room and
walking up to him asked, in husky
voice, for a glass of whisky.
The bartender looked at him con-
temptuously for a moment and then
inquired: Have you got the chink?"
Certainly, certainly; of course l
have. Pm no deadbeat," replied the
old man.
The saloonkeeper handed him glass
of the fiery beverage and he drank it
down at a swallow.
AS he put the empty glass down upon
the counter he turned to the man be-
hind the bar and said Say, old fellow
/ have poured a large fortune, beau
tiful home and loved wife and child
into your till and you have poured
ruination down my throat; so l guess
you can stand this one drink, for have
not got cent left in the world" and
he turned to go.
"Not so fast" cried the enraged sa-
loonkeeper, as he sprang over the bar
and seized him by the collar 'You
drunken old brute, pay for that glass
of whisky or I'll kick your old carcass
into the gutter"
The old mans voice trembled as he
replied: Don't, don't, old friend. For
you have lost fortune, home, wife and
baby; surely you will not begrudge me
single glass of whisky? l had to
have it or would have died"
"Out upon you, you sniveling old n.y.
pocrite," yelled the saloonkeeper, with
an oath, emphasizing his command
with brutal kick and violent jerk
on the coat collar
The collar gave way, and, the greedy
eyes saw thin gold chain to which
was fastened a small gold locket, hang.
ing around the bare, wrinkled neck.
ala, ha! you old miser," laughed the
brute, as he tore the chain violently
from off the old mans neck. "Tn
keep this little trinket till you pay for
the whisky"
For moment the old man stood as
il dazed, and then, clutching wildly
with both hands at his throat in vain
search for the locket, cried ont: 'Fol
Gods sake give me back my locket
Give me back my locket! Don't open
it,! he yelled, as the saloonkeeper be
gan to examine the locket. Give il
to me! For the love of Heaven give il
to me-"
"You blubbering old idiot" laughed
the saloonkeeper, who'd have thought
you'd have a sweetheart at your time Of
life? Come, boys, let us see what kind
of a looking gal she is
Then the lockers on saw a strange
sight. The gray-headed old man flung
himself on his knees before the brutal
saloonkeeper, and while the tears ran
down his hollow cheeks begged and
implored him to give him back the
locket
But the saloonkeeper only laughed
and said: Must be a pretty girl to
make all that fuss over. l wouldn't
miss seeing her picture now to save
my soul from purgatory." AS he said
this he opened the locket. A long cur
of beautiful golden hair fell out, and
catching on his fingers, twined Itself
around them like a thing of life
Saints and angels" he yelled, as hi
hurled the locket, hair and all, upor
the floor and began to stamp upor
them.
Like tigress fighting for her young
the old man sprang to the rescue of the
golden curl A short but terrible
struggle ensued, and then there was ;
CLEAN of glittering steel, a thud, ant
the gray head fell backward to tn,
floor, while the red blood spurted "a
in the face of the murderer.
Strong hands seized the saloonkeep
err: but the old man was beyond help
! ''Oh, my darling, my darling" h
murmured. as his life blood ebbe,
away, "who would have thought, whel
you put your soft, white arms aroun'
my neck to clasp that locket, kissing
! me as you did so, and saying in you
sweet baby voice: Papa, l love 90,
love 90 so. Won't 90 tiss me cause
gives 90 such a sweet birthdays pres
ent?'-who would have thought that
should die drunkard's death, stabbed
in drunken quarrel over lock of m
dead baby's golden hair? Forgive me