The Monticellonian., 1895-10-04
. lesson from his taltA+uln... hi, tn-

t life. Evenings found him always at home, and on Sunday 1t was his pride to have humble part to perform in the church work and post of duty in the Sunday school library which he discharged with greatest zeal and tol- erated no usurplng of his place by others.
 Thus the monotonous tenor of Wal ter the popcorn boys life went on till the fall of 1894, when the baneful in- fuence of the panic first became ap- parent in the village. No matter how | banks might tremble and fall and capital take alarm, no one would think that the sale of popcorn and apples would be affected. But they were, for at length Walter was heard bemoaniug 1 the let-up in trade. Perhaps there was not such a serious slump in his line, after all, and he had simply caught the calamity note from others it is so quick to spread. Anyway, the popcorn boys face grew more de- spairing, his tones more mournful Often he was seen shivering in the chill air and making figures with a stub of d pencil in the pocket ledger. He was making comparisons with ! sales the day before, the week before and year back. He had heard some of the merchants tell how their trade had fallen off The comparisons were not encouraging.
 "Oh, it's dreadful" he would be heard to vail often and again. tflVhaf3c ba rnaftar Na aF the boys would ask.
 My trades falling off like every thing was his rueful answer. "These hard times will ruin me-"
 He was really in despair. The calam- ity contagion had hold of him. The business aspect was as serious to him as to the man of millions. His receipts for years had never fallen below cer- tain average. To his dismay the boast he had always made would not again be true. It was seen that the worry was telling on him. Never strong looking, he began to look paler and thinner.
 "0h, cheer up, Walter" some con siderate bystander would say. You'll come out all right"
 It was no ase. 'The figures speak for themselves, he said as he produced the little book all filled with rude pen cilings. m falling behind-I know 1 am. Many merchants sitting in their offices in sixteen-story buildings could sympathize with him.
 Walter, the popcorn boy, was incon- solable. It was common remark that he was getting worse. Each day seemed to add to his burden of despair In all his quarter of century of mer- chandising, humble as 1t had been, he could count on profits. The prospect of anything different was too much for him.
 remember the last time l saw him. It was just before the fast mail from the west was due, shortly before two o'clock in the afternoon of wiutry day. Walter was standing around the corner of the passenger station out of the sweep of the biting winds. He was picture of despondency as he stood there silent in the su1len weather, making figures with his shaking fn- gers III the pocket memorandum. Here it is nearly two o'clock" he moaned, land I've taken h only nine cents-not enough to pay expenses He did not take into consideration that home and health and a good liv- ing were certainties with him what ever might happen. He thought only of his life- work-the thing that had commanded all his time, ali his ener- gies. If don't do we'll with No. Is shall give up!"
 Two of the boys, touched by the tone of despair, tried to cheer him up by buying half dozen sacks of corn apiece. He brightened up moment as he shook some salt on the corn and handed it out, and then relapsed again into despondeney. The whistle of the mail pierced the frosty air, and few seconds later the great engine was panting at the tank Walter walked along the length of the train according to his custom, but the win dows were shut and frost-covered and no cheery voice cried out: Here, bring your corn this way" Even his old friends, the trainmen, failed to notice the mournful figure and appealing looks of Walter, the popcorn boy Several who had heard his despairing words watched the course of matters with anxiety that was almost painful They had hoped he would be cheered and lifted up by brisk demand for his goods. As the train went shriek- ing on it's way he was seen to set his sad face homeward, crushed in spirit, plunged in despair-as If mourning at the grave of lifelong hopes-as indeed he was
 Since that day Lake Shore passen. gers have looked in vain for sign of the ewell-remembered face and figure. Trainmen and travellers have won dered at the absence of the faithful Walter. who had not failed to be there before for a quarter of century. He is missed also from the village corners from his accustomed place at the organ lever in the church choir, and some one else now hands out the books in the Sunday school. From his bed of sickness, where he lies helpless from a serious nervous and mental ailment from which he is fated never to rise, he sends every month verse of con- secration to the young peoples prayer meeting. Brave, faithful spirit! The whistle of the incoming train reminds him that he must take hls box and go, and then he remembers that it cannot be-no, never more! Some dim con. sciousness of his enfeebled mentality has come to him for the first time in the long days of helplessness and he is heard to ask, sometimes at frequent in. t.,.,-n .ANill r,,, al ,r If, ..ul,,. ,,, 0