The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1897-07-07
Snip and L.

Y Ork. lie was an evening neWSDOy
who haunted Park row, and he had
such queer voice and was 80 queer in
his looks that he attracted attention
above all other boys. One evening /
took him over into City Hall park and
asked:
"Snip, how old are your"
"Goin' on ten, SIR"
"Do you live at homer"
"No, sir; have no home. Father
an mother are both dead, an l have no
brothers or sisters"
"Where do you put up?"
"With Aunt Mary, down on Pearl
street."
"Can you read or writer"
mo, sir, but can tell money an
change dollar"
We took a liking to each other from
the start. 1 wanted him to go to school,
but he was born gamin. l offered to
buy him a suit of clothes, but he pre-
ferred to pick up garment here and
there which had seen its best days.
He did accept and wear an overcoat,
but l don't think he ever felt exactly
comfortable in tat least not until it
became dirty and greasy and the boys
could no longer taunt him with being
an aristocrat. Sometimes / had Snip
wash his forehead and comb his hair
and 90 to lunch with me, but it hurt
his feelings, and he went under COM
pulsion. 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 q bigger boy, he came to me for con-
ISOLATION. On several occasions when
"the gang" tried to drive him off the
street because he was "a-gettin' to be
Vanderbilt went down and got the
police to see him through, and twice
when he was arrested with others for
disturbing the peace 1 went to the
Tombs and begged him off.
We got to be "pards "-Snip and I.
1 liked him for a dozen reasons, but
principally because he was genuine
type Of the New York wait who was
fighting his way. His self reliance and
energy were something any man might
6uNy. NOIuluS COulu oOWh hAN
it was rarely that he gave way to dis
couragement. 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 trying to take care Of himself.
I wanted Snip to grow up something
better than q 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 street
Arab in the fullest sense. He knew
New York from the Battery to Har-
lem, and nothing pleased him so well
as a night out. We walked the Bow
cry at acknowledgements we descend
ed into the dives and rum holes and
dance houses. Once or twice, during
the first year of our acquaintance, l got
Snip into a barber shop and had his
hair cut, but he felt 30 bad about it that
1 ceased to experiment after awhile.
He managed to look reasonably clean
on Sundays, but my attempt to slick
him up on week days was a failure.
A month ago l saw that Snip was
failing in health. He had always been
as hard as nails, but the rough life was
beginning to tell on him. He made
light of his ailment, but the day came
when had to go down and have talk
with Aunt Mary about him. She ad-
vised the hospital, and after much coax
ing got him to go therel He
said it was too stylish for him, and that
sleeping on regular bed and eating
chicken soup would make q BOBBY out
Of him, but at length I got him to go.
The doctors said 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 man, however.
Not once did he whisper or complaint.
On the contrary, he hoped against
hope. He would say to me, as I sat
besids his cot:
"I'm bound to git up, pard-bound to
do 1t. Mem you had got lots of things
to do this summer, an don't want you
to 60 pards with any other boy. I'm
square, you are square, an we just
want to keep on being 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 30 he said to the nurse:
"Git pencil an paper an write
sunthin' for me. I've got knife, a
pair Of clappers, harmonica an 'leven
cents in money. Write it down that I
leave everything to my old pard, an
that thought OF him last of ALL"
And next day when I called to see
him, l 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 1 hope it is well with his i'm
mortal spirit. Other boys would have
come to me and would call me "pard-
ner," 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 I will wait.-Detroit Free
Press.