Morning journal and courier., 1893-01-07
entire bottle of Lord Tennyeon's rare old

| things, we are often the victims of our
| own opsqueness or prejudice. In London
and other British cities the American will
notice little signs az street corners, In
crowded, narrow thoroughfsres, In park
ways and at all sudden turninss trsversed
by vehicles, reading, keep TO the Left.
Some years ago when / first noticed this
1t worried me. l wanted to understand
| it, and, like true American, perhaps pro-
test about 1t a little. / approached a Lon
| don policeman with the earnest iuouiry:
| "Bsg pardon, officer, but might / ask
why, in London, everything goes To the
Leftf"
Like one of Mrs. Jarley's figures. his
head moved statelily. BE regarded me
| one swful, official moment with conternptu-
| Gus pity. His head moved back again
| Then with whitening scOrn he answered.
cam wy in ell shouldn't itF''
| had never thought CT that. After OBJ
serving and thinking little saw that the
English are right in keeping TO the left.
Drivers being seated at the right, there Is
absolutely no other way in which TO utilize
every inch of crowded street. In keeping
to the right, as with US, no driver can
| safely Judge distance when meeting or
| passing other vehicles Here, where the
| drivers heads practically come together
| over their -wheel-hubs when meeting or
4
danger snd loss from olsshing wheels are
almost wholly avoided. There is wisdom
in discsrding bad custom for good one
wherever we may find the latter.
There is one custom of the British gem
| try snd nobility, as old as the English
railway system, which can never, save in
| a modified way, have it's counterpart even
with the most offsnsiEely recent acces-
GFnr-s 20 Asr,z-szEn
That is for q gentleman and his wife TO oc-
cupy tirst-clsss compartment OF q rail-
Way carriage, apparently for the better &C
commodaiion OF their lsp-dog, while their
children and servants are crowded and
banged about in second or third-clsss
compartment of the came train.
Perhaps this custom was never quite SO
unpleassntly impressed upon me as when
returning from London To York over the
Great Northern railway. l happened for
= time to be the sole occupant of a fret
class compartment and had fallen asleep.
Parties had entered unknown 10 me, and
was awakened just as the London suburbs
were reached by an unusuEl commotion.
A plump English lady, past forty, with
wild eyes and long, suaooth-shayen up
per Lip, was struggling with the rear por-
tion Of a tiny, white Porto Rico lap dog.
Opposite her, ON the same s-at a burlr
EDgiisbman wss pleading with the same
animal, which bs2 set its teeth with much
persistent frmuess in the tenderest portion
OF its masters nose.
1t was young lady dog. lie ringlets
had been so sneared as 10 give ii the ap-
psarsnce OF q fierce Numidian lion, 1t
WAS exceedingly nervous and eNcitable. and
lite master had naCged the creature, Der
by" pronounced Darby, 1t was called
until IL had retorted by grabbing
the pursy gents nose as though it had been
rat.
'GOd bless me soul, Darby, Dye know
y'svs me nose uGite set between yer pref
ty little teeth. 4 quiet tweak by DARBY /
DsrbT, dear, l ssy, Darby, Darby
there's a darling, God bless me, but SIS a
brave gin: Another emphatic tweAk
Precious child; there now, Mind ye, Oar
by, dear. I've no notion of tearing away
from We, Darby. God bless me, Darby,
'aven't such a thought. Oh, no, pretty
Creature. Bu', God b!ess NE, wife, cawn't
ye sUm'ow, ye know. eriscs the beast
awAyl I've hsen vegy cmCl-ah. Darby,
| there's "a dear,-but. pom ma woTd, I'm
fast txLsus.iug Wife w0mAu,-Shox
Darby the cream, 'Esy'n 'elp NE, but
this is a s.; though, Ave a cream.
Darby; dc. There's a dear, though. God
bless me, Isn't the GRAMS did it, though
1hct lthltg l4HAl uDlc baIDN I'M
been shown come French creams of which
she Was very fond, and evidently pre-
ferred them to her masters nose. Ths
pursy gent seemed fit for an apoplectic
stroke on account of that organ, which
had suffered 10 more than d good pinch:
but the lsdy's meanings az the possibili-
/ ty of DsTby'= nervous system having re
| ceived too severe a shock. weIe come
thing piteous indeed.
| AS We alighted at Kings Cross station,
after MILFORD, milady and DARBY" hsd
been tenderly bestowed in a handsome
broughsm, it transpired that the man
and wife's five children, two maids and
the other miscellaneous luggage, all of
| whom and which had shared a third class
compartment with as many uncOuth York
shire yoke,s, Were lcft behind tn reach
home az best they c0u.d by way of raS
ing London "thripeuuy" 'ous.
There Is quaint little inn of Elm
burgh, hard by ST. Andrews Square, in
which | love to make my home when in
'Auld Reekie;" for while il is but a few
steps from the City's peerless Princess
street, II is still within the precincts of q
fine old residence district, made famous
by the haunts Of a score OF the great lite
rsry Scotchmen of other days.
i'm and central city places brought TO my
notice the fact that, nearly every pleasant
summer night when the hush of evening
had fallen upon the town, "a marvellous
singer of The tenderest ballads Of Scot
land came that way; stood for a q usrt~l
of an hour or go ia the quiet entrsncs tc
St. Andrews street; aud az intervals Il
the accompaniment of an accordion SAM
ewestly for thsse who taTTied.
At chance glimpses of the singer and
his regular evening audience 1 noticed
too, thH. the man nsyer solioIted alma
He stocd quite still in the middle of III,
street. and now and then some nne of the
crowd, In the psuses of his singing, would
step quietly up TO him and place q c0it
within his hand. These were copper coin,
always, and they nearly always came frol1
the pockets of poor people. Finally, th'
songs and the scene touching my owl
heart, 1 went and placed coin in hii
hand as others had done before me.
Then for the first iime / saw that tn
man wss blind. / saw. besides, such
face as will haunt me all my lifetime.
cannot tell you what painter has pat mos
of hopeful patience, exalted resignation
and sublime faith into any one face upoi
canvas Bnt here was n face thst instant
" revealed them all ] went hsck 10 him
told him wouid like to know him; Rskel
| him II i COulG come - nlt bHTDF. or IL u
could fad his way 10 my lodgings: and II
a moment more We had arranged for
meeting at the little ST. Andrews stree
inn for the morrow.
When he came his fret words put u
both as warmly In touch IS though on
hearts had been open TO each other for
lifetime.
'T knew by your voice." he sAld sadly
lyon saw through my sighilessness. An
we blind folk are msir canny at seein' thAl
ye think. Yea make rhymes. So do l..
! This deprecstingly. God knows m
heart is sair = siDg wi q pen, toe"
| So knew he had already snug wi hi
, / PEN and made him there and then repeh
his rhymes. Here was another Burns !
, rags and obscarity. Surely this is &C
Then / went with this blind poet and sing
ct, John Connell. TO his home, No. i
, Gibbs Entry l.ecoDd fat Nicholson stree
) Edinburgh; away up smong the densel
) inhabited wynds and closes Of old-towr
{ What was therel Just 60 many childre
d one could scarcely count them OF remeE
= Der their nance; q kindly faced wife, 10y.
q and true: a hearthsids as barren of th
, comforts of this life s. the face of a storm
' beaten crsg; but with faith. hope and III
E falteriDg love enough within IL to seed tc
: saving an entire race.
J The story of the man and his bittt
q struggle Is q short one; because of his VI
cation, his poverty, his silent suffering
| n ~rss la