The herald., 1894-12-25
BY FRANCISCO DEL ENcrNo.

DlCkluk VI AoaA hdy JULIUS NJ lI0c
lunches, in beer saloons. or a chance
dinner at some Chris.mas function"
OF cold charity.
Truly, this was bad outlook.
On Thanksgiving day, hardly a
month removed. had rendered my
thanks-horrid mockery-by bolting a
little Of the cold and muscular meat
from the shank of phthisicy gobbler, in
aplace where the fumes OF pine sawdust
and stale beer vitiatsd even the relish
OF hunger.
Yet, here l wRs once more, on Christ
mas eve, specializing how l was going to
keep in tune. on the following day, an
ever inquisitive stomach, rendered not
only discriminating. but positively
frantic. in view of the general reioicings
that fill the Christian world from end to
end on the 25th of December.
1t was two years since l had had any
money to call my own. l had lost a
few hundred dollars in Arizona, not by
my own fault, but because l had been
foolish enough to leave the money in my
lown room to which the cook Of the
hotel had found access, and since that
time. Notwithstanding my most earnest
efforts, had lived hand to mouth ex-
istence. | had been able since to make
the ends meet by writing special arti.
clss; by getting in day here and there
on the papers OF the southern mstropo-
lis aud. briefly, by attending to little
odds and ends, In which a pen or some
style in writing was needed, but that
was all.
Thus on this Christmas eve was sor-
rowfully walking up Spring street.
pushed aside again anu again by happy,
no'sy people, eager to procure for their
festival of the next day, the richesees
that the beautifully lit and artistically
decorated stores displayed. was in no
mood to object to brutal shouldering,
because felt crushed. | had had no
dinner nor supper, and Christmas to be
passed without even that common cheer
which the body requires, had such
terrors for me that my spirit was
broken.
end First streets when WAS staggered
CHEEKY voice, close to my ear shouted:
cheer" Turning around l beheld a
WhIthy hnhS nOAiO w tOutb vi hk0s
about my own height. with an open,
and dressed in the height of fashion,
who was eagerly holding out his hand
to me.
"Bl me. but am glad. Billy. old
boy, to see you once again." said he OF
the noustache. "Where have you been
and what have you been doing?" l
couldn't say anything. The fact of the
matter was that I had no idea had
ever seen this amiable fellow anywhere
before. Yet by racking my memory,
after a few seconds thought, his face
became more familiar, but l found it
useless to speculate. So l stammered,
stupidly enough.
You have the advantage. OF me.
Mr.-Mr.-Mr.--"
Oh, come now. don't put on airs, old
fellow. You know me well enough. Ben
son, eh ?" with a knowing air, ami
cccking his pleasant face to one side.
Ike an inquiring magpie. Benson,
old boy. 30, yours truly, broke, Billy
Williams, his providence. sabs? Two
years and one month ago. Catch on
pow ?' .,~,.
Then l did catch on. During the
month of October of the year when l
lett Arizona, with the ardent purpose of
seeing no more OF that too much sun
kissed land, | was in Benson one night,
aiting for the train that was to carry
me westward. had some time to spare
an wandered around the little town in
IN Intellectual attempt to kill the hours.
While thus meandering l had come
Upon a young man engaged in playing
solitaire with worn deck of cards in
an abandoned adobe shanty, and we
entered into conversation. l found out
that he was newspaper man, one of
come distinction in the territory, who
had gone broke, and was then hunting
bacon and beans, as well as job. l
had some money, as l have said.
Pleased with his ways. asked him if l
might be useful to him, and to men
ii a moderate sum that would help
him out OF his present uncomfortable
pass. He said that if he had $50 he be-.
lieved that he could again, as Monte
Cristo had done, make the world
"his'n." And made it so by handing
him the money at once. We left each
other as my train came in, l going to
poverty and want in California, he
quien sabe?
And here we met, after two years. 1.
AFRAID that the next one would be a dies
non as far sc turkey, or, for the matter
OF that, as far as any other grub was
concerned /; he, we'll dressed, prosper-
ous nan, whose twenties could be heard
iinsling in his pocket, even as he spoke
80 llghihearted and pleasant.
And how has the world usad you,
Bill? | cay, am on my way to Frisco.
and all alone here. What do you say if
we tup together. You'll tell me your
story aud Ill tell you mine while we
eat. Come along"
While discussing a meal, to which,
alas, my stomach had been too long a
stranger, told him ny woes. But it
VAS not until the pousse cafe and the
Vctorias were on the table that he re-
lated to me the wonderful story which
now can tell in my turn.
That night" said he of the triumph
ant moustache, "that night in Benson
WAS the turning point in my life. l had
unt'l then suffered hardshps for the
want OF money worse than your own,
80 'nuf sed' Sufficient for the day ia
TIE evil thereof. When you gave me
! lease cd $50, and blessed will they
re Ill the end of all that is earthly of
ne my hoodoo was gone and had
iouhd my mascotte. started the next
mofnlng on the Sonora railroad ON my
wsy 10 Nogales, but when got to the
lluachrca siding something impelled
me to get out and look around. There
were a couple of colored soldiers stand
ing near the track, and from them /
gathered that the paymaster had just
arrived with two months pay for the
garrison at Fort Hnachnca Thev wera