Saint Mary's beacon. [volume] (Leonard Town, Md.) 1867-1983, 1897-03-18
Saint Maru's Beacon
A MAN OUT or WORK.

q ride On the Western freight. He
walked up the main street one morn
ing aud made for that mecca Of
tramps, the saloon.
1t was August. The fury Of the
hot winds was blasting the corn,
and with it human homes. That
pitiless wind +! For three weeks it
had surged northward, an unwea-
ried, scorching, palpitant tide, that
one fancied exhaled from hell it
self. Even at night it did not rest,
but buifeted with soft fierceness the
hot eyes of desperate men. The
stranger was tall, thin, muscular.
His face was clean-cut, clean shaven.
His hair, q ruddy brown, was trim
med close. His clothes did not fit
him. The trousers were too short.
The coat had evidently been made
for a stouter man.
The day was Saturday, so, al
though early, there were a good
many in the saloon; the drayman,
agent, lumberman, grain man, half
a dozen farmers, and a couple Of
chronic loafers. These looked as
kance at the newcomer who entered.
lie took of his hat-a sunburned
slouch-and addressed the crowd.
I'm trying to get back East, gen.
tlemen, and my voice is my ticket. ,
lie stared at the nickel fixtures
of the bar and began to sing. The
men ceased their rueful talk about
the drought, profanity, hushed, it
seemed, their very breath. For the
voice that rang through the vulgar
little room was rich, pure, vibrant,
powerful, mellowlY sweet. The
song ended, he looked around, but
did not extend the hat he held,
waiting to learn il his song had
pleased his hearers.
DO it again. man urged, I'M
limbering himself from a keg as he
spoke, and have a drink. What
can you sing"
Anything
we don't go much on opery here,
but we'd like to git some of them
things we read about like where
did you git that hat p an 'Twh lit
tie girls in blue Kin We sing them.
The stranger laughed. He sang
the ditties requested. Then somG
one asked for Marguerite An
other man proposed drink. Va
rious requests were proifered. The
singer sang on. In the apprecia
ton of his listeners he found inspi
ration. A queer ecstacy, not be-
gotten of the liquor drank, came
on the ordinarily stolid crowd. The
singing stimulated them. 1t lent
smile to the sullen lips, light tc
surly eyes. For the time being
they forgot the drought, the mad.
dening winds, the certain failure Of
the corn crop. These were mo.
ments of reprieve. Realization,
crushing as conscience, would come
later. The man who had been ia
Chicago when Lottie Collins whirled
around the stage smiled delighted
to hear 'Ta-ra-ra. Boom. decay, and
broke into eulogistic "reminiscences
of the English dancer. The old
Frenchman on the corner who
mended shoes for a living and had
hobbled down to learn against the
door and listen, beamed when he
heard the tender strains of the Tow
err song in I'll Trovatore. And the
boy who had been sent two thous-
and miles west in search of health,
kept his bright, hollow eyes fast
ened on the giaring poster annOunc-
ing the State Fair, when the tramp
sang Home, Sweet Home
The singer ceased, held out his
hat. A willing little shower fell
into it. The richest man present,
farmer and a stockman, gave a
nickel; the man who could least af-
ford to give anything dropped in a
quarter.
Now a last song' voice sug-
gested.
A rollicking college song follow
ed the request. A man walking
down the other side of the street
heard it, crossed over. He was
large, florid, gold-bearded, of im-
perious manner.
'Eh? p he cried. Il thought !
knew that jingle. Is it you. Jack?'
The singer looked at the strang-
or, on whom prosperity had set her
seal.
Il don't know you, he answered.