Waterbury evening Democrat., 1894-10-23
MIR. WILSON.

A ltN HI <h hc"A+ murmured Fl. Pcmberton Wilson as he limped around to the sunny side of warehouse E and slowly let himself down to recumbent position on the hot, tarry boards
 "A chilly town. That's what. Even in the summer time" said H. Pember- ton Wilson as he threw stray nail into the muddy slip and lazily watched l the rings enlarge and lose themselves | in faintest nipples. "You take any train, and it lands you here, and the only comfort of being here is that there's so many trains out. I s'pose my stomach thinks I'm tryin to go without any thing for n week just on @ bet The country lanes must be sighin for me. I wonder if turnips are getting large anough:''
 To designate H. Pemberton Wilson IS hobo would simply corroborate his opinion of himself.
 He has carved Hobo Wilson, on many q section shanty and milepost l between Scranton, Pa, and Council | Bluffs, Ia, and there were friends who knew him as Rooster. On one Indiana trip he had earned | the title of Come Again Wilson because | he had persistent way of getting on train after once being put off. Like many another of his class, he was not devoid of sentiment or philoso- pkv. He carried ill his breast pocket a spcchlcd volume of Burns poems. He had forgotten to return it to q public library ill southern Illinois. The book opened of itself at the lines, "A mans ! E.., EI1I,a IUIlSo,, rna1 | the poem as he lav with his back against shc warm boards of warehouse F, and then he put the book back into the pock- at of his coat, which he had thrown flown beside him.
 At the bend i'll the river a coal vessel was being unloadcd The click of the machinery and the noisy dumping of the big buckets at the regular intervals became rather soothing when the rhythm was understood. Hobo Wilson tapped with his thumb, keeping time, and lock sd through the rigging of lumber schooner i'll the second slip beyond at the coughing Smokestack which reached up from q small blaming mill. The mill was buZzinc i'll ChanGeable tones, like 0 nest of disCOrdant bumblebees. The smoke rolling from the stack iirifted through the rigging, where the yards and nettcd lines seemed to cut into irregular shapes. Hobo Wilson watched drowSily until to his blurred vision there were many fantastic forms floating ill the fOgGy maze. And he was not greatly surprised when one of these forms took on the outline of a dwarfish human being and fioated slowly toward him. It poised for moment above a | hawser timber and shook itself, a shower of soot falling from it. Then it settled into a comfortable sitting attitude and looked at him.
 Well. Rooster. how's everything?"
 The voice was rather small and shrill. Hobo Wilson could not answer at once He was n,.rvclinS at the appearance of his strange visitor. The little man was hardly three feet high. Under the slouch hat was q good natured and wrinklod face, decorated on the chin with a tUft of beard, which might have | been gray at one time, but which was now blackcnrd and dusty, the same as his face and clothes. The latter were of rough Quality-a hickory shirt, shod- Cly pair of trousers fringed at the bot toms and held up by one suspender, and 6 pair of worn shoes mUchtOO large and laced with hemp twinc.
 Are yen down on your.luck, RooSt- sr:" asked the little man.
 I'm Twin Un the air" said Hobo, ''bUt where did you come from:''
 II just dropped in with the smoke Don't know me. ch:'' That's what; 1 don't
 Listen. Hobo Wilson. Do you re- member last Saturday morning when you were at Hammond and divided your kantout with brother who alight- cd from box c:.r day out from Louis ville and very hungry" Il do. A man a man for a' that. v
 True enough, Rooster. That was a l good deed More than once I've seen you give comrade good place on the truck.
 Where was you"
 Il dare say you didn't look up into the rolling cloud of smoke to see the good fairy of the hoboes."
 "Fairy"'
 Cert. You didn't expect the guard ian fairy of the hoboes to tear around the country i'll all kinds of weather with little white robe and some ostrich feather wings"
 II s'posc not"
 Hobo Wilson, I've watched you. never saw you do a pard any dirt. The good things of this world must not all be given to brakcmen and farmers and people who work. Are you hungry"
 "Sure!"
 Then feel ill the pockets of that coal
 beside you and believe me when tel
 you that every man must live before h'
 dies
 "Sufferin brake beamsr' gaspeC
 Rooster as he drew from one pocke
 after another crumplcd rolls of banl
 bills He heaped them up on the faded check cloth, and his tears fell on them
 ''No more drillin in the snow; m
 souphouses; never again in a bucket Pard. you've done"-
 But when he looked up again the on
 gallused fairy had disappeared, and tn
 smoke which pushed through the rig ging and rolled away was blacker thal ever.
 He put all the money in his pockets first throwing away the balls of twine
 the old pOcketknife and the needle an,
 thread wound about beer cork.
 On the street car ke could find no bil a less than s, and the conductor grum e bIed about the change.