Gloucester County Democrat. (Woodbury, N.J.) 1878-1932, 1903-07-30

S&&&&&e&&sts&sH&~Rss ssS &@e~&~%~~Rss
Dunwoodie liked his pipe as well as
the next man and perhaps trifie bet
ter, and when he had settled himself
in his bos'n's chair near the top of
the big bridges tallest suspender and
found he had left his beloved corncob
and his bag of Painters Delight" in
his other oyeralls at home his despair
was SO great that his head swan and
he saw red clouds before his eyes.
Its the curse of the trade,' said
| Dunwoodie. Here I've been at the
brush for forty year or SO, and never
| the time but l was painting in the
wrong place. If l worked on red
| fence, bull was sure to be in the
field; if I'd been off on a bit of bat,
the boss would set me a-painting of
scrolls and wriggly things till it seemed
as if I'd got 'em sure; if 1 was dying
of thirst, they'd give me the steeple
of a meeting house to color-Baptist
at that, more than likely-with never a
| drop to drink 'twixt me and the earth.
| And now here l be hanging 'tWixt
heaven and the East river-and the
river much easier to reach-perishing
well be on top of one of them burning
volcanoes for all the good it is to me.
It's the curse of the trade"
Dunwoodie laid on with a heavy
hand Well for him that his perch
was high and that the eye of the boss
was not likely to inspect his work crit
| icallyi
Just then, as if to add insult to in
| jury, there came a pungent smell
athwart Dunwoodie's nose. Young
Pat McCabe was smoking in his COM
Portable perch five strands to wind
ward of Dunwoodie-young Pat Nc
Cabe, the impudent fellow who had
dared ask Dunwoodie for his only
daughters hand in marriage!
Dunwoodie's daughter, the peerless
Pearl, the girl Dunwoodie had been ia
ther and mother to since that sad day
when her own mother was laid be-
meath the sod in the Cemetery of the
Evergreens and of whom the old man
was as jealous as a hen with one
chicken! Need more be said? Dun
woodie looked upon young McCabe,
likely fellow enough and as handy
with his brush as old Michael Angelo
himself, with keenest detestation. He
hated him all the worse because deep
down in his soul he knew that Miss
Pearl favored the handsome Irishman.
| McCabe's pipe was considered the
dirtiest in the gang. He had the love
of his race for well colored dhudeen,
and he smoked a tobacco so strong
| that it would draw tears from the eye
of a potato Dunwoodie had often
cast aspersions upon it. But now
now the odor which the winds waited
to his hungry nostrils was. sweeter
than the spicy breezes of Araby the
Blest
He glanced darkly across the chasm
of twisted cables and dizzying heights
Of air which separated them and re-
membered some of the hard things he
had said about McCabe and his pipe
and his pretensions. Now it seemed to
| him he would willingly barter his
chances of heaven for a smoke of the
same.
81 swan" said Dunwoodie, overcome
by craving which made him desper-
ate, 'it would be a pleasure to MUIR
! der you, young man, if l could get pos
! session Of that chimney by the doing"
| The thought of murder seemed to give
! the painter much temporary joy, for it
| sprang from the heart of a father jeal-
Gus of the child who was his all in all
Of life saving and excepting the pipe
of which he was deprived.
| Murder, however desirable, being out
| of the question, Dunwoodie resorted
to strategy instead. 1t was hard work.
| But after clearing his voice a few
times he managed to say:
Il say, Mac, could you lend me your
pipe and bit of tobaccy? I'll return
them up at the house tonight. Swing
it across on string; that's good
lad"
McCabe looked up in amazement. 1t
was many a day since he had heard
such friendliness in Dunwoodie's
voice
1.-THE fact is" said the old man, 81
left my pipe at home, and I'm dying
for smoke"
"Ohow said McCabe to himself. $50
! that's where the winds are blowin'"
And then he said loudly: "But ye can't
smoke my pipe, Daddy Dunwoodie.
| Sure, ye said l put it to soak in the
| tannery." Dunwoodie coughed and
looked uncomfortable. 'Ye said. it
would be afther maxim a dog sick, so
it would. If reckomembcr correctly,
Mr.. Dunwoodie, ye said I smoked
scrap leather an fndin's."
Hard blows, these. Dunwoodie
WINGED
Il was only joking, Mac, my boy"
he said, with a feeble laugh.
WAS ye jokin' when ye said /
couldn't marry the darlint of me sowl?
Ye know whom name, Mr.. Dun
woodie."
Nor shrieked Dunwoodie. 81 was
not joking! I'd rather see the girl ly-
ing in the cemetery with her dead
mother than marry tarrier like youi"
ooh! All right, Mrt Dunwoodie.
guess ye were right. My pipe would
make dog sick, and it's not fit for
the likes of ye" McCabe's brogue
grew broad when his anger was high.
He lit another pipe and whistled
"One Girl" AS the odor saluted Dun
woodie's nostrils he grew frantic. He
must have that pipe and tobacco! 1t
was hours before he could descend for
the incoming. He looked at McCabe,
who was smoking away as If uncon-
Ecious Of his presence, and it occurred
to Dunwoodie for the first time in his
life that McCabe was not bad sor
of man after all. He was clean, sobei
that is, reasonably So industrious,
and he had the best and sunniest ma
ture in the world. Besides that, he
loved Pearl, and Pearl loved him. And
If 1t was not McCabe it might be
worse-very likely would be.
Dunwoodie cleared his throat.
"Macw he said.
sWellv'
LEND us your pipe-do. I'm perish.
ing"
sWill We Fave me marry yer daugh-
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