The Houma courier. (Houma, La.) 1878-1939, 1896-10-24
A FUNNY WORLD.


Vernon and l were sitting in the club.
Il was late. The last bus had rolled
home and Piccadilly was almost desert
ed save for an occasional cab that drove
by with a fash of lamps and tinkling of
bells.
Vernon lit another cigar and pulled
away in silence.
"What you were saying just now
about a short life and a jolly one" he
said, at last, "set me thinking about
poor old Jim Barham. He was awfully
like you in many ways. You remember
him, don't youg'
shook my head.
"Ah, he was before your time" said
Vernon, settling himself more comfort
ably in his chair. "He was one of the
best chaps that ever lived. / only wish
to heaven he were here now. tell you
what, old boy, we'll have another drink
and I'll tell you his story; it's a queer
one. Waiterlr
When the waiter had put down the
drinks and left the room Vernon be-
gans
swell, to begin with" he said, =
must tell sou that Jim Barham, when I
argt met him (Which by the way, was
up at 0xf0rd)s was looKeU upon as tie
1dcliest young fellow going. He was
good looking. strong as q horse, and his
father was one Of the richest men in
England. The old man had made a
devil Of a lot of money in trade-I for
ret what sort-and Jim was his only
son. He and l were great pals at the
varsity, though, Of course, I-being on
d comparatively small allowance
couldn't keep quite up with his way OF
living. Well, to cut part of a long story
short, one day the old man went broke.
No one knows what broke him-specu-
lation of some sort, I suppose; anyhow,
he failed for all he was worth and Jim
was left an absolute beggar. As soon as
he heard the news Jim left Oxford, and
only saw him for a few minutes at the
station, when he cried like a child. Ms
time at the varsity was over at the enc
Of the term, and Jim promised to com
and stop with me at my peoples il
Norfolk. Inever saw him again in TIVE
years.
Vernon stopped to knock the ash OF
his cigar.
$50 on" 1 said, im~patiently, for I wa
getting interested.
Il tried all I.could to find out hi
whereabouts Vernon went on, sbu
all to no purpose. No n knew wher
he was or where he had gone to. A
last, after two years, 1 met him again
= HIskLT- DoI&1-.en ssactoTfrnn
III Soho, one Of these places where the.
feed you for practically nothing.
had gone there out Of pure curiosity
and the first person / saw in the plac
was Jim. He didn't seem anythin
like as pleased to see me as ! was I
zee him, and it was some time before
could get him to tell me what he WI
doing. When he did, his story was
sad one. His poor old father had die
soon after the failure and left Jim a
solutely p~enniless and alone in Il
world. No d would stir q finger
help him, and he. who had never dol
q stroke Of real work in his life, h'
to look out for some way Of earning
living. He came TO London, starry
for nearly a year, and at last manag'
te ret 4 job as super IN some theat
81 other. That was he told me, VIII
be was doing then. His clothes we
old and dirty, he hadn't shaved for
week. and there were great dark lin
under his eyes that told q thousa
tales. / begged him to let me be
MIN. but he refused all offers, swc
shat be would get rid Of himself
something better didn't turn up, a
thcn left me without even shaki
hands.
sAfter that I often saw him abo
but biz would let me get ne
md would stink away directly he s
ne. Every Sine I met him he seen
to look more wretched, shabbier g
airtier. and one day 4 knew how 4
~ had sunk, poor devil for I saw b
narading Piccadilly with sandw'
Boards strapped across the back an
general look about him that told