The semi-weekly messenger. [volume] (Wilmington, N.C.) 1897-1908, 1904-04-26

yc1ico OWceI tdtcfS. dS cuecKiuuy ~
II we were holding a birthday party.
Indeed q boy stood at the gate and
sung in a loud voice:
o Bowser's very bad
He is-he Is;
Old Bowsers very bad
He is-he Is:
Did Bowsers going to turn his toes.
And I don't care which way he goes.
For biz-for biz-gee-whiz-gee-whiz-
That's what he roared out, Mr..
Bowser, and 1 was expecting to be .
widow every few minutes, and yet you
ask me to sit here and weep because
some n we never heard Of has met
with sorrow or misfortune"
Woman, I wouldn't have that heart
OF yours for all the money in Amer
fca," he said, as he hesitated between
kicking at the cat, who was taking IL
all in, or pounding on the table with
his fist. mo wonder you have made
fourteen different attempts to assas-
sinate me since our marriage. No
wonder that sorrowing men, weeping
women and grieving children cast one
glance at this house and then shud-
der and hurry along. 1t wasn't a week
ago, as L got of the car, that a wild
eyed tramp, fleeing for his life, dashed
past me with terror depicted On every
line of his ~countenance. You had been
threatening his life, no doubt, instead
Of giving him words Of sympathy"
Yes, I remember" she quietly re-
marked. "He called for a bite to eat,
and while the cook was getting it
ready for him he stole a bottle Of
claret on the sideboard and took a
skate. He wasn't flying for his life,
but for his claret."
"IlI never believe it-never on this
earth. If I was in sorrow and misfor-
tune, n look into your cold and IN
feeling face would chill me to the
marrow. All this long, long day /
could hardly keep the tears from my
eyes as I thought of the scores and
scores around us who sit wailing and
grieving, and yet you-you"-
II haven't shed any tears or seen
any call for 1t. Should a grieving
woman or a weeping child call here to-
night, however,
you'd break their necks with q
crowbar-you know you wouldr' he
shouted, as he stamped about and
emotion colored his nose clear down
to the tip. You sit here and wait
for sorrow to come to you, while
p
while you do the same thing"
by thunder, woman, but you won't
fling that in my face a second time.
1 was intending to go out anyhow, but
now nothing can stop me. Yes, l will
take a walk out and find and alleviate
sorrow, and let despairing humanity
! see that it has at least one friend in
this selfish world"
Mrs. BOwser made no objections,
although be rather hoped she would,
and he walked slowly down the hall
and dOnned his O%vercOat and hat and
passed out into the night.
His very first move was to slip on
the steps and roll to the bottom, and
love for general humanity was re-
placed by cuss words for the next five
minutes, but he finally got the old feel.
ing back and started down the street
Sorrow, grief and misfortune were
also looking for him. A Weary Will.
liam bobbed up almost at once, and in
q pathetic one proceeded to say that
his wife had consumption, his children
the humps and he himself was at.
ficted with two different and separate
cricks in the back. There was neither
fire nor food in the house, and the
hard hearted landlord had just given
notice Of eviction and the gas man
had left the rooms in darkness. w
w. was looking for some one to sor
row with him-Some u to weep IL
chorus-some one who would advance
half a dollar and wait until he got tC
that better and for his reward.
Mr.. Bowser listened patiently fol
ten minutes and then backed into his
own yard and said:
You old rascal, but you are lying
to me-! 1t wasn't over three days age
l saw you drunk"
Won't you sorrow with meT
whined the man.
Not a blamed sorrow"
won't you grieve?"
mot q bit"
Wont your feelin's for a fellel
bein' in distress permit you to HAND
over a quarter"
mot a burned cent?"
"Then, you Internal old hypocrite"-
And then Mrs. Bowser and the ca
heard the riot and ran to the from
door. Mr.. Bowser, who was hatless
lay on the ground where he had fallen
and the tramp was making off at
2:1O gait with his our dollar hat.
well, did you find any one sittin,
in the shadow of black despair" ask
ed Mrs. Bowser, as she went down t
the fallen man, who had received
bang on the nose.
"C-call the police!" shouted MI
Bowser.
Never mind the police, dear. Yo'
set out to comfort and console and lie
grieving humanity know that it had on