The Wheeling daily intelligencer. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1865-1903, 1897-08-21
HERE AND THERE,

Remarkins upon the plan OF entertain
ment for the visiting merchants here
next Wednesday, a veteran business
man, now out of harness, gave a clever
satire OF some Of the city's points OF IN
terest, He was called upon 10 entertain
an old friend Of his some years ago,
when, judging by his twinkllng eyes, ne
was prone to all the fun there was HIS
friend was visiting Wheeling Tor the hrst
time, and though he was rather tired
after his long ride, he agreed TO see some
of the sights, even IL 1t was after dark,
well, OF course We had TO have some
thing before we started, for Henry and l
were old friends and hadn't met since
the war, and | reckon we were feeling
rather youthful as we got up town. ex-
planned the old gentleman. I'VE edged up
Market street till we came TO Eighth,
then turned up 10 view the w~orkhouse.
Henry was a little unsteady on his pins
climbing the hillside, and when we
reached the building, and | told him
what II was, he exclaimed:
"'Workhouse! Great Scott, man, what
are you giving me?"
Its true, Henry 7 sighed; let us
wander further up the hill.
Henry was tuckered out after we got
on top Of the hill, He hadn't said much
after we left the workhouse, but he said
the view of the city by night from the
hill was grand,
"Just a few yards more" ! said, "and
I'll show you something that is grand
nothing like 1t out west I'll bet you
money"
IAN right, Produce her, old boy
he cried
81 could see that what he had down
town was taking effect on him, and what
with his long ride in the cars and the
walk, he was pretty near gone, But he
anne TO the next minute,
whats that?' he yelled.
"Crematory, my dear boy. Now don't
get excited. It's a crematory, nothing
more.
Then he tore loose some wild woolly
oaths from the west. He accused me OF
dragging him around the hills for fun,
and said 1t wasn't right to be foollng
him.
Now, look here, old man. l don't
mind going around this way so much,
stumbling and falling yer myself In
the dark II | get to see something. But
If this Is the best your town can do,
let's get to bed and try 1t In the day
light
His emphatic language let loose again
as we commenced the descent from the
crematory. He wasn't used to COINS
down hills, and fell several times. Once
l fell over him trying to assist him to
his feet, but finally we struck the bottom
at Tenth street, and I agreed that we'd
go home, | was afraid to Introduce the
subject Of sightseeing, still to climax
the nights jaunt, l ventured the sug-
g~estion:
"one more drink Henry, and we'll go
to bed. First let me show you what Is
truly a municipal work OF art. No. no
walk Is needed, Il Is almost In sight now,
"'Oh, stop your blamed foollshness,'
he replied. Tn sleepy and don't want to
be looking at stables and b~ack-yards all
night. Your %workhouse and crematory
is enough for tonight. Here, take me
to your home
There 1t is now Henry. / cried en-
Enthusiastically. pointing to the market
house. Drink In Its beauties under the
shedding light Of the moon. A veritable
Coliseum or Montrosa abbey, a thing of
beauty and a JOY forever! What thinkest
thou?
"One glance and Henry swooned away.
The sights had been too much for him."
Amid all the animated discussions at
tendant the great coal strike, for some
unaccountable reason there has not been
a word devoted to that Indispensable
factor of the mine output-the coal bank
mule. Has he no troubles OF his own?
IL only the operator and the digger to
be considered, when the mule Is the
means to the end-the connecting link
between the dark damp room under the
hill with the tipple out In the open air?
On, yes; he recllnes in opulent ease all
the day long and spends his nights In
rlotous living. He Is somebody's darling,
Is he? Stop a moment and consider.
Ere dawn has tipped the hilltops. to his
rear is appended a long line of cars,
and until late at eventide in and out and
out n in he goes, n beast OF burden.
Nothing morel All, me, woe is the
mule. a %plaything for boys, cuffed and
cursed; whose ribs resound the lusty
twang OF the cudgel; whose velvet ears
re-echo the hollow laugh OF mockery as
he tugs and strains along the narrow.
rocky way-yea, truly, does he bear the
slings and arrows Of outrageous fortune.
But, you say, he always has a kick
coming. Well, Is 1t any wonder?
"Vot kind Of moosIc box?" asked a
Wheeling creek miner, returning from
the march he participated in one day last
week, as he and some companions
stopped to gaze in Flaccus- Elliott Com
pany's windows on Water street.
Max no moosic," returned one OF tho
group. BE pen wiper; me know"
This appeared satisfactory, and they
passed by. What puzzled them was a
typcwrlter-the machine, remember,
not the girl, Their lack Of knowledge Is
not really strange. Neither across the
river where their huts cuddle together,
nor in the far-oif Polish villages they left
n few years ago, has the click and rattle
of the machine yet been heard.
She was a girl who wanted to know.
He was a youth who sometimes grew
smart. II the peddling mines were or
dered closed Beiiaire knew i would DO
without coal, In fact, her mother told
her that day that their stock wac ex-
hausted. Hence her anxiety, as she saw
him coming back nom the mass meeting
where to strike, or not 10 strike had bean
the rub, and she hailed him thus:
Say, George, will they call a striker"
well, that depends" drawled George.
he of the sometimes smartness, "if thu