The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1897-12-22
SELECTED STORY.
without Due Authority.

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unavailing, to save the souls OF his fell
low citizens in this metropolis of evils.
A few yards away a revolutionary brick
layer-out of work and with the strong
est private objection to being in it-had
hurled denunciations at the iniquitous
British constitution, to the delight of
himself and the amusement OF his audi
ence, and a couple of placidly smiling
policemen who stood near in that i'm
personal yet protective attitude char
acteristic of the force. A little further
on, ''lightning artist" Of tender years
furnished a quiet antidote to gesticu-
latory anarchy by the reproduction on
paper of the Duke of York's baby to
chorus of loyal applause. On the
preachers other hand, martyr, whose
motives his country had ignorantly mis-
understood, perhaps, not without just
occasion, had related with some feel
ing much abuse of authorities, and
more of that luckless eighth letter of
the alphabet, which is the chosen vic
tim of eloquence in fustian, the mel
ancholy details of an enforced retreat
from public life, which, to judge from
appearances, he had very richly de-
served. When the preachers audience
tired of his discourse, they had only to
turn their heads to imbibe incipient
anarchy and detected patriotism, or
cultivate healthy admiration for juv-
emile talent aud the reigning house-a
combination of conflicting sentiments
peculiar to Hyde Park on a Sunday
afternoon.
The other orators, however, had
found compensation for their wrongs
in the delight of airing them at large.
They retired from the field of battle
hoarse, but triumphant. The preach
er's triumph was question which he
could only regard as much more dubi-
Gus. In moments of despair, which
sometimes fell to his lot, he knew that
his congregation merely regarded him
as an interlude between the denuncia-
tions of the political bricklayer and the
dismal rhetoric of the ex- thief. But,
to do him justice, those moments were
few and far between. He had fought
hard battle from very early age, and
defeat had ceased to depress him save
at odd times when he was, perhaps, a
little colder, hungrier or sadder than it
was his usual fate to be.
AS he stood in the corner a hand was
laid on his shoulder, and he turned TO
find himself face to face with DIR. jeff.
They had met before, in slums and by
ways, and each man knew enough of
the others life to respect it. cannot
assert that jeff is the little DOCTORS real
name, and perhaps he has story or
mystery, or both-a skeleton which he
hides in the cupboard at his shabby
1ol u;,, xrsth ha otola nd inh
ly unprofessional cheese which that re-
ceptacle contains--but / am sure that
there is no kinder soul in all London,
despite his snarls, his sarcasms and
the inexpressibly unorthodox opinions
which he scatters broadcast in this way.
All men have their hypocrisies, and
he has his. 1t is his delight to shock
people, to pose as something very little
better than the archfiend himself. l
have seen him succeed admirably in
his deception-with strangers. Those
who know the good little man know
also that he would not willingly bruise
a butterfy's wing nor offend the dirt-
est and most melodious tabby that sere-
nades his hard-earned slumbers. Even
now, as the preacher turned his white
face and tired eyes upon him and
forced smile, there was charitable
scheme brewing in Jeff's mind.
FINISHED spouting?" he asked, gruf-
fly. "Walk my way, will your Abomi-
nable weather."
He spoke with savage air, as
though the weather and he were on
terms of violent hostility. Jeff's man
ner generally suggested the feud-brief
and stiletto and other paraphernalia of
medieval murder.
lence, during which the doctor eyed
his companion with bloodthirsty ex-
preston of countenance.
Better give it up" he said at last.
" Wearing yourself out for nothing.
All boshl"
els it?" asked the preacher, half
sadly. Sometimes IL almost wish
my profession allowed me to think 30,
too, doctor. But " doesn't."
Hang your profession" jerked out
jeff. You're not a parson?"
"No."
" Ever been one9"
"No."
"Then, why in the name of common
sense don't you 60 and earn some
money? My good fellow, you're"
"What's the good of preaching?" he
went on, changing his sentence. "The
world went very we'll for great many
centuries before you were born; it'll go
very well for many more after you're
buried. Let it gol"
The preachers deep eyes flashed.
"Pll never do that" he said quietly
They had walked considerable way,
and Jeff looked up with well -assumed
start of surprise.
changed if this isn't my place!
Never meant to bring you all this way.
Come in and rest"
The preacher hesitated, but he did
not wish to give offense and finally
they tramped up the narrow stairs to
Jeff's sanctum--a little stting-room
with hideous cheap furniture, flarng
paper and table Uttered with books.
l was very cherries, very dingy, but
Jeff waved his guest to chair with a
certain dignity foreign to his usual man
ner--a survival, perhaps, of other ways
of life and of other visitants than street
preachers. After all, it is the man
who makes his surroundings. A par
venu can be vulgar in q palace: our lit.