The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1902-11-05

\ certain mechanic who works for one
OF our city contractors was asked by his
i employer. ON Il recent ay-day, in what
| manner he managed to invest his salary,
/ as he never seemed to lose any time and
was sober and Industrious man. Well,
| the man said he always paid his bills
| regularly. and his rent Tor real comfort
able house ON ----- street was IS per
month. and his living cost considerable
he said, as he had a wife and three little
children to provide for. But" his EN-
ployer said surely there must be some
thing left yet" "Oh, WELL" the man said.
There is always little doctor bill and
other incidentals." Il know" said his
employer, but what do you do with the
rest, as YOU make nearly $50 per month";"
We'll. now, | will tell YOU" replied the
man. "hut please don't tell any one. as
do not wish that correspondent of The
Record to hear of it, | am harreling ii up
and putting ii in the cellar"
We made an effort to get the editor of
the Wage-Worker to publish Grover
CleVelands Morristown speech. but our
efforts were in vain. "Jackey" is sensible
enough to know that any speech the cx-
President can make will never help the
cause of Democracy, and the defeat OF
DE Witt Clinton Flanagan was assured
The democratic party at one time carried
this great man around upon their shout
ders and "hollercd" themselves hoarse in
their Efforts to elect him, but they sang
different tune when he commenced to get
his work in. Soon their faces began to
cultivate a scowl that would fit the skull
of a prehistoric cannihal, and looked dag
gers and outraged, until a glance of their
faces would sour the milk of kindness in
daitNman's pump. A WORKOUT politician
Is ten times worse than Il wornout wagon.
When wagon Is ridden until the tires get
loose and the boxes rattle like n contrIhu.
tion box fun Of horse -chcstnuts, the owner
has pride enough to take II To the repair
shop and get the tires shrunlS up and a
few screws put into the boxes. But when
the Industrial world rides a man out of
repair. lie Is thrown out ON the human
scrap pile To live or die. Just as 1t suits
the thrown-away piece of humanity
No doubt YOU have read the story about
the Prodlgal Son-of how he persuaded
the old man To sell his timber tract and
his coal lands. and Standard OH stock
and his seat IN the Stock Exchange, and
his shares in the old Jerusalem trolley
line and give him his portion down In
hard cash. so that he could go off and see
the world and learn how to fake the dear
people, And the dreamy old eodger did ms
his son requested rescrVinE only the side
hill farm, which he allowed his youngest
son to farm ON shares; and the prodlgal
put his wad of bank bills in a secret
pocket In his flannel undershirt. and
parted his hair in the middle rolled up his
trousers like the Prince of Wales, and hit
the smooth rond to prediction, with II
scent of rye whiskeY In his hip pocket
| And for several years the young idiot
made the American eagle howl in fashion
able circles. with his buns and barroom
| oafers following at his heels and calling
| him a blamed good fellow. and all the
women of cheap paint sending him sweet
| little notes, and all the time his dollars
We're leaking away like scandal through n
| daily paper While In this condition he
| began to see what n beautiful iackass he
was making OF himself. so he combed his
| hair with eorncob. dressed himself In
smiles and struck the old trail back to
| pap's. The old man fairly danced with
| delight at sight of his lost son. and the
| poor old mother began to fish out preserve
| crooks and glasses of home made Jelly
| from under the bed. and the servants
| hastened out TO kill the fatted calf and
| the family prepared the biggest feast they
| had ever produced since the day they
| raised the log barn.
Bnt. oh! how different with the prodiga
| daughter. The good book does not tel
| the story Of how the prodigal daughter
| returns. The fatted calf has a far better
welcome to his stall than the outcast
daughter The mothers bosom IL a closed
fortress. behind whose walls parental love
He's chained With prejudice and mock
pride The house-dog banks no welcome,
and the eat looks wickcdly from under the
| table. Every eye every look, every insin-
uation. every finger points down the
gravel path that leads out into the world
OF unfeelng cruelty. and the poor SILVER
tnD 10 NJ hut ll. NnI,a s,xfi,