Keowee courier. [volume] (Pickens Court House, S.C.) 1849-current, 1899-11-16
IT MUST FOLLOW THE NIGHT THE Day THOU oANsr nor


pect nothing. That night ho went
to his miserable lodgings and wrote
to his wife
MY BELOVED WIFE: How can +
write to your J dare not tell you
my real condition, and yet it is bet.
ter that you should know. For days,
now, ] have nor eaten a bite except
free lunches in saloons. / am living
in little hall bedroom, scantily fur
nished, and the time for which I
have rented it expires tomorrow,
and l have not cent in the world,
and suppose that | will be turned
out on the street. l cannot even
mail, this letter to you, my darling,
unless some one, through sheer pity,
gives me a postage stamp. But l
will have stamp if / am compelled
to beg or steal it.
have found that there is no such
thing ss gratitude among politicians.
Every an is simply used as long as
he is se,:viceable, and then thrown
aside f n some one else.
President Mckinley is a good
man, but he is hampered by this
vicious system of ours, which parcels
out everything to the political boss.
lie is utterly helpless in their hands,
just as all Presidents are.
Oh, that I were back with you and
our child, and could find all this
cursed political muddle only a horri-
bic dream. Sometimes l think until
I am almost mad, and but for your
sustaining love l fear that despair
would drive me to madness or sui
eide.
What am l to do? That is the
question which has burned itself into
my brain, and haunts me both day
and night. Our rent past due at
homo, and l without a dollar in the
world--yea, without bread. Oh,
God what shall I do? Let me
think, love. Tonight l shall pray
for inspiration, that / may know
what to do. And now, dear love,
good night. Kiss our boy for mo.
Your devoted husband,
JosEpu FITzGERALD.
p. Sit is IL O'Clock midnight.
| have just purchased a stamp with
the money I received from holding a
mans horse while he went into a
saloon for drink, and will hasten to
mail you this letter.
Again, good night. j. f.
All night he tossed restlessly on
his bed, but no inspiring genius
came to light up his miserable hall
bedroom with a single ray of hope.
In the morning I met him, and
could read real madness in his eyes.
lie laughed hilariously when I in
vited him to breakfast with me.
"No, thank you, old boy" said he ;
81 am dining at the Arlington now."
Later in the day he wrote q wild
sort of letter to his wife, saying that
a good position had just been offered
him, and that he would be home in q
few days, with money for their i'm
mediate necessities.
That night ho collapsed, and tho
next morning, when I called, he had
a raging fever and talked incohe-
rently. I had him removed to the
hospital, and in three days he was
dead.
Then I took it upon myself to call
upon the political bosses from his
State, who constituted the "ma-
chine" I told them the story of his
sufferings and death, of the almost
starving wife and babe. I appealed
TO them for money to buy o coffin,
and for enough to send his body
home and bury it. They all, with
one accord, said "No."
My heart burned with indignation
as | turned away from them in dis
gust. I did not even belong to the
same political party of which he was
a member. l was only q poor news
paper scribbler, but / decided that
he should have a decent burial. So
J. took the money which I had laid
aside for my summers vacation, and
bought casket and started for his
home.
How could | ever break the news
Gsss0sl.aaz1zaazzsRss a SRsgEEzEaEuazzsszteEaS