Connecticut western news., 1895-01-17
MIR. WILSON.

imped around to the sunny side of warehouse F and slowly let himself down to recumbent position on the hot, tarry boards
 "A chilly town. That's what Even ill the summer time," said H. Pember- ton Wilson as he threw stray nail Into the muddy slip and lazily watched 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 a week just on a bet. The country lanes must be sighin for me- I wonder if turnips are getting large enough?''
 To designate H. Pemberton Wilson as hobo would simply corroborate his opinion of himself.
 He has carved "Hobo Wilson" on many a section shanty and milepost between Scranton, Pa.,- and. Council Bluffs, la, 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 a train after once being put off.
 Like many another of his class, he was not devoid of sentiment or philoso- phy. He carried in his breast pocket a speckled volume of Burns poems. He had forgotten to return it to a public library in southern Illinois. The book opened of itself at the lines, "A man $ man for a that" Hobo Wilson read the poem as he lay with his back against the warm boards of warehouse F, and then he put the book back into the pock- ct of his coat, which he had thrown down beside him.
 At tho bend in the river a coal vessel was being unloaded. 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 ed through the rigging of a lumber schooner in the second slip beyond at the coughing smokestack which reached up from small blaming mill. The mill was buzzing in changeable tones, like a nest of discordant bumblebees.
 The smoke rolling from the stack drifted through the rigging, where the yards and netted lines seemed to cut into irregular shapes. Hobo Wilson watched drowsily until to his blurred vision there were many fantastic forms floating in the foggy maze. And hewas not greatly surprised when one of these forms took on the outline of dwarfish human being and foated slowly toward him. It poised for a moment above Q hawser timber and shook itself, shower of soot falling from it. Then it settled into comfortable sitting attitude and looked at him.
 tWell, Rooster, how's everything?"
 The voice was rather small and shrill Hobo Wilson could not answer at once. He was marveling at the appearance of his strange visitor. The little man was hardly three feet high. Under the wrinkled face, decorated on the chin with tuft of beard, which might have been gray at one time. but which was now blackened and dusty, the same as his face and clothes. The latter were of rough quality-a hickory shirt, shod- dy pair of trousers fringed at the bot toms and held up by one suspenders and a pair of worn shoes much too large and laced with hemp twine.
 ''Are you down on your luck, Roost- err" asked the little man.
 ''I'm Twin on the air., said Hobo, "but where did you come from?''
 ''I just dropped in with the smoke Don't know me, eh?''
 That's what; don't"
 "Listen, Hobo Wilson. Do you re- member last Saturday morning when you were at Hammond and divided your handout with brother who alight- ed from box car day out from Louis vile and very hungry?"
 1T do. "A mans man for a that ;
 'True enough, Rooster. That was a good deed. More than once I've seen you give comrade good place on the truck
 Where was you?'
 ''I 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 in all kinds of weather witt little white robe and some ostricl feather wings?'
 1T s'pose not.
 ''Hobo Wilson, I've watched you never saw you do pard any dirt. Int good things of this world must not al be given to brakemen and farmers ant people who work. Are you hungry?"
 "Surer'
 ''Then feel in the pockets of that coat beside you and believe me when I tel you that every man must live before ht dies !"
 "Sufferin brake beams!" gaspe( Rooster as he drew from one pocke after another crumpled 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; ns souphouses; never again in bucket Pard, you've done"-
 buG WHICH nS lOOheu up dSdlu Gn6 Ons gallused fairy had disappeared, and tn, smoke which pushed through the rig ging and rolled away was blacker thal ever.
 He put all tho money in his pockets first throwing away the balls of twine the old pocketknife and the needle ant thread wound about beer cork
 On the street car Ee could find no bil less than $5, and the conductor gru1n bled about the change.
 "Give me the change, confound you, said MT Wilson, Tor else I'll have tha number off your cap. :"
 Thereupon the conductor quietet down and gave him his change. Mir Wilson tossed 10 cents to baby on , seat in front of him and then settled back to enjoy his ride. He had never known of more beautiful day. He ob served with much satisfaction that ev, cry one else seemed as happy as he. The