The Washington herald., 1906-10-14

Thus it came about that a difident
young man was turned adrift. TO roam
with his thumbs in the position hereto
fore described. Fiction and the stage
have invested the plain reporter Of COM
merce with abundant nerve and force Of
character sufficient 20 break up funeral
in order 10 furnish d sensation. Mr.. Bloke
lacked these attributes. for he was a
human being. with u soul that yielded to
rebuff, and pallid profile that suggested
the drowned chicken in repose- Coached
by ty-third-degree journalists. who
know their business ike 10 other guild on
earth. Willie had written half a dozen
letters 10 himself, addressed 70 the Office
in the hope that when he called for his
mail the editor might see him, and Telent,
but the affair of the picture was too seri-
Gus to be condoned, and Mr. Bloke re-
Inained an outcast and haven Of grow
ms disgust,
I'm up against the real thing he
confessed 10 his Iandlady that morning
The main squeeze got his hammer out
for the back talk / gave him. That
queered me in the other Offices. and now
the anvil chorus is something fierce. I'll
have to fly the coop that's all"
Though she understood but little Of this
confession. the landlady sympathized
with Mr.. Bloke in his sore affiiction. He
had always paid his room rent-heroism
worthy Of a monument should the world
OF letters ever see fit 10 honor him.
Willie had daily burdened a column
with shipping news. dredged in the beer
saloons infested By whalers and bay
pirates, and movements OF vessels, 90
picked up in tugbOat circles As the boy
was reared midway between the two
oceans. and knew nothing whatever OF
maritime affairs. he found the city front
task a source Of much private grief. Mr..
Bloke loved TO sit on whaTves and look
at the ships. but IL gave him pain 70
write about them. The shippers threaten
ed To shanghai him for publishing plants
from the forecastle, and laughed 10
sc0rn his weird snarling Of nautical
terms He longed 20 roam-to sail out
upon The wave-furrOwed face Of the deep
in White-winged bark. and think top
neavy thoughts, with a streak OF poetry
IN them. The ind0lent life in those favor
ed isles far down in the South Pacific
appealed to one of his nature, He had
heard that work was yet undiscovered in
that paradise: no respondent females
plunsing OF feTrybOats late al night, and
no trampiug through mud and wet to ask
- rcd-necked second mate how many tons
OF coal his vessel carried. The loss Of
his job further intensified the desire to
reach spot where the prospect of OBJ
tanning another was sufficiently limited to
render life worth living
While thus engaged in Iong-distance
lotus vating, as he stroiled. Mr.. BlolSe
overlook a tall wide-backed figure. roll
ing sluggishly. The stranger carried his
mammoth hands open, with the palms
aft. and he worked them 10 and fro, in
a rotary motion. like a sidewheel steamer
running under a slow bell. There was
something familiar in the shape yet the
outcast did not recognize AIr. BaTnacle,
able-b0died seaman, until that earnest
mariner rounded 20 IN front Of steam
ship Office on Market street. Nr. Barnacle
was slightly intoxicated. else he would
not have been cruising so far out of his
| latitude.
BLOW me down. he exclaimed, as his
nautical eye took IN the Office front
BLOW me down twice.
Having delivered this apostr0phe to the
wind, Bill lurched into the place. Mr..
/ Elokc followed and stood at the other
end of tho counter while the mariner
/ bor- down on the man ia charge
II reckon you know wot's logged in the
sood book Bin queried.
The clerk nodded comprehensively
Him w0t toOts not his own horn, like
wise the horn it don't set footed none"
Very pretty sentiment and quite
true said the agent, looking at Mr..
| BIobe as though expecting him to hand
/ out a horn to be footed then and there.
"BJTnacle's my name-Mr Bamacle.
| Him wot toOts not his own