The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1904-04-24

With the passing away of the old-fash-
toned colored man there will be noticeable
loss to the country of old-time darkey
drolery and native
Obadiah's Char wit.
acter Reading. about twenty-five
years ago." related
the bookkeeper, 1--WE had employed around
our establishment quaint old colored man,
named Obadiah. Probably nearly every
business man on Washington street knew
old Obadiah, with his shackley old cart and
his baIky old one-eyed white horse. Oba-
diah wore an old red and white notified
calfskin vest and il was the pride Of his
life. 1t would be safe, probably, TO wager
SO that nowhere. now. in the whole State
of Indiana can be found an old colored man
who wears a calfskin vest like Obadiahs.
'sOld Obadiah was unruly, and did things
TO suit himself Now and then he wouldn't
haul off our coal ashes to suit me. and L
orally faithful, though, when Monday came,
1 would find 1t polite to hire old Obadiah
over again.
off Obadiah and discharged him for some OF
his usual cantankerousness. he came up
close to mel can see his old hat. his bushy
hair and his gay red and white calfskin
vest right now-and took me by the button
hole Familiarity and yet with Difference
Say. Marse Thomas: say Obadiah said.
amt dat oddah man name Thomas ovah
dar on Pennsvany street some kin o youahs
dat oddah bookkeep-man ovah OAR name
Thomas amt he some kin o. youahs?'
Yes said, he's my brother
Oats so, OATS So. commented old Ooa-
diah. OATS jes' wot | fought knowed
dat man wuz youah kin-he done fab me
out evy week, same as you do, vas sab;
he got same mean kind o dishpersihtun wot
you got-yas, sah.
Into a late afternoon street car up Mas
sachusetts avenue, recently. a four-year-
old boy clambered, escorted by his mother
They had been on a
The Passing dow n town shopping
of the Horn. tour, and the young
moth hers countenance
bore the wear and tear of a strenuous
time with the urchin. He was somewhat
sticky with candy and touzled as TO toilette,
but looked serene and joyous. In one hand
was clutched sticky striped paper bag
and in the other a cheap little tin horn with
red tassel bedight AS soon as he had
struggled into seat. assisted somewhat
roughly by his tir I'd little mother, the joy
Gus urchin blew loud blast on the little
tin horn. At once the whole carload of dull
looking and wearied passengers bloomed
beared men even went so far as to laugh
aloud The little tin horn had touched a
tender spot in the universal heart.
'"iave you noticed" said one of the gray
bearded men TO another, how little horn
music we hear nowadays? / believe this
little fellows tin horn, the horn of fish
boy who comes to our house now and then.
and the hokey-pokey mans horn are the
only horns / have heard in a year. Fifty
years ago horn music was not so scarce.
Stage coaches carried horrs-'the horn of
the hunter WAS heard on the hill'-and from
further back than that. of course. horns
echo down the centuries. All the old novels
and old poetry ring With horn music. from
the herald who wound his horn under the
castle wall. to the doughty knights who
dashed into battle at the trumpet blast
1--WE been reading Walter Scotts novels
again." continued the gray-beared man.
lust for the atmosphere of old horn-music
times, and there's nothing like them in the
whole world of English fiction. Rare old
Sir Walter comes pretty near being a
Scottish Shakespeare. In our Shakespeare
Club. by the way, is a droll girl who car
ries lorg tin horn. and every time the
text says: Enter herald with trumpet.
frivolous Miss judy blows a blast on her
tin horn. The women, of course. were
shocked, and tried to frown her down, but
the men stood by Miss Judy, and IL very
much enlivens the readings TO hear the tin
horn blow when the herald enters. l know