The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1895-08-23
SNIP AND I.

haunted Park row, and he had such a
queer voice and was queer in his looks
that he attracted attention above all other
boys. One evening took hun over into
City Hall park and asked:
.'Sni2, how old are your"
"Goin on 10, sir"
E'Do you live at homer"
f'No, sir; have no home. Father an
mother are both dead, an have no broth
ers or sisters. -
''Where do you put up?'
with Aunt Mary, down on Pearl
street."
tCan you read or writer
"No, sir, but can tell money sn
change dollar"
We took a liking to each other from the
start wanted him to go to school, but
he was a born gamin. offered to bay
him a suit of clothes, but he preferred to
pick up a garment here and there which
had seen its best days. He did accept and
wear an oyercoat, but I don't think he
ever felt exactly comfortable in it-ae
least not until it became dirty and greasy
and the boys could no longer taunt him
with being an aristocrat. Sometimes l
had Snip S1ash his face and comb his hair
and go to lunch with me, but it hurt his
feelings, and he went under compulsion-
He preferred to have me go down on
frankfort street with him, where we sat
on bench at a rude table and got two
ancient sandwiches and glass of watered
milk for nickel. Knives and forks and
napkins put him out and made him feel
tired.
When Snip got dead broke, he knew
where to find me. When he got licked by
bigger boy, he came to me for consola-
ton. On several occasions when 1.-THE
gang tried to drive him off the street be-
cause he was ''a-gettin to be Vanderbilt"
I went down and got the police to see him
through, and twice when he was arrested
with others for disturbing the peace I
went TO the Tombs and begged him OF.
We got to be "pards''-Snip and L I
liked him for dozen reasons, but prinoi-
pally because he was a genuine type of the
| New York waif who was fighting his way.
His self reliance and energy were some
thing any man might envy. Nothing
could down him, and it was rarely that he
gave way to encouragement Early in the
battle L went down and gave Aunt Mary
the tip not to turn him out when he failed
to square up, but the boy didn't know of
this. At long intervals he would come to
me for "stake, but he had pride in try
ing to take care of himself. 1 wanted
Snip to grow up something better than a
| gamin, and that was the only point we
| differed on. He had it in his blood and
| couldn't make change. He wasn't
| vicious, but he was a street arab In the
fullest sense. He knew New York from
| the Battery to Harlem, and nothing
| pleased him so well as a night out We
| walked the Bowery at NEUTRALITY-SUSPICIOUS.
we descended into the dives and rum holes
and dancehouses. Once or twice, during
| the first year of our acquaintance, l got
| Snip into barber shop and had his hair
cut, but he felt so bad about it that I
| ceased to experiment. after awhile. He
/ IoD Gle ON,
days, but my attempt to slick him up on
| week days was a failure.
A month ago I saw that Snip was fail
| ing in health. He had always been as
| hard as nails, but the rough life was be
ginning to tell on him. He made light of
his ailment but the day came when had
to 90 down and have a talk with Aunt
Mary about him. She advised the hos
pital, and after much coaxing 1 got him
to go there. He said it was too stylish for
him, and that sleeping on a regular bed
and eating chicken soup would make u
BOBBY out of him. but at length I got him
to go. The doctors said that it was case
of quick consumption, and that he could
not hold out long, and after bit the boy
suspected the true state Of affairs. He
went to his death like a man, however.
Not once did he whimper or complain. On
the contrary, he hoped against hoped. He
would say to me as 1 sat beside his cot:
81 m bound to git up, pard-bound to
do it. Men you has got lots Of things to
do this summer, an I don't want you TO
go pards with any other boy I'm square,
you are square, an we just want to keep
on bein pards.'
One night, when no one believed that
his end was so near, Snip realized that the
hand of death was upon him. He knew
they could not send for me at that hour,
and so he said to the nurse:
''Git a pencil an paper an write sun
thin fur me. I've got a knife, pair of
clappers, a harmonicon an 'leven cents
in money. Write it down that leave ev-
erything to my ole pard an that Thought
of him last of alll''
And next day when I called to see him
found that penciled message and him lying
dead. They had him in pauper's coffin,
ready for burial in a pauper's grave.
would not have it so. He sleeps in grave
in another field, and hope tits we'll with
his immortal spirit. Other boys have come
to me and would call me ''pardner, but
can't do it. Snip was my earliest and
last. While he lay dying and yet hoping
he asked me to be loyal to our friendship,
and though he sleeps his last sleep will
wait.-Detroit Free Press