The evening times., 1896-12-26

.win you be kind enough, sir, to send me
to the workhouse until next pension day?
am a wreck and thatts the only place left
for me-"
The speaker was an old, mc-lesged man.
with al intelligent and kindly face. who en-
tered Lieut. Keliy's police station about
10 O'Clock last night. He addressed Sta
ton Keeper John Garner, and shuddercd
as lie thought OF the icy blasts outside.
"Christmas night and a pauper. without
a place to lay my head" continued the
human derelict, as a wintry blast ratified
the window panes OF the station, as though
beating q tattoo accompaniment to the
song of the wind. "Only a few years ago
and had a happy home. q warm fircside.
and Christmas was Joyous season to me.
Now, hereI am, an outcast, asking fellow
man to send me 70 prison that may not
freeze or starve."
In the station.
The old man paused and pondered. He
was no doubt thinking Of former happy
Yuletides, when the biting north winds
made sweet music to his ears as he sat be-
side his own cheerful fireside n the home
circle OF loved ones. But a police station
on such a busy night as that which fol-
lows Christmas is practical, severe place,
and there is not much time for sentiment.
well, / am sorry for YOU" said stal
wart policeman, but il you want to go
to the workhouse we will try to accommo-
date you"
Il do not ask to be sent there because
it is my wish to serve in such an institu-
ton, but / am penniless. homeless. aged,
ais ~
The station keeper opened the big blotter,
and as the old man answered his inter
rogatories he made this entry:
Frederick Weaka; age GO; born in Ger
many; occupation, shoemaker; charge,
vagrancy."
The disconsolatc man then hobbied back
to the cell room on his wooden leg and was
given a place near a red-hot stove. The
surrounding cells were filled with drum X
en- prisoners who engaged in Bacchanalian
songs, yelled, swore and raved- In this
Bedlam OF noises weaka sat as though OBJ
livious to the discord aLout him. His he ad
was buried in his hands, and he was no
doubt thinking of the happy days Of yOrc,
when Times man Interrupted his rev.
cries. Looking up he said sadly, quoting
a familiar poem:
THE mill will never grind again,
With the water that isTpast.'
His sad Story.
Then he related his sad story. 4 few
years ago Fred. Weaka was a prosperous
merchant here, aud lived with his wife and
family. During the war a. Confederate bull
let tore a hole through his leg and the
wound never healed. -Four years ago he
ran q nail into the sole OF his foot and after
several weeks OF intense suffering it be-
came necessary to amputate the leg. The
old man receives a pensiOn for the injury
to his limb received daring the war, and
this. with the income derived from his
business. made him wellto-do.
During those days of my prosperity I
had many friends, sig he'd the cripple, but
where are they now? They drank my
wine and were iovial companions, and 18th
these so-called friends and the wine is
where my trouble commenced. Ny money
soon disappeared, and with it went the
friends. Ny poor wife died, and became
a sot. Pension day became curse TO me.
Ny allowance only lasted me n few days,
and then was worse off than before, until
at last l became a common pauper. All
the business men here Knew Fred Weaka
once. / wonder what some Of them would
say to me crouching here tonight. The
only place left for me is the workhoUse.'
He spoke Of his daughter, pretty girl,
eighteen years of age, in affectionate terms,
and then smile frightened his furrowed
face.
They have shoe shop In the prison,
and will ask them to make me foreman OF
it during my Imprisonment