The Richmond palladium and sun-telegram. [volume] (Richmond, Ind.) 1907-1939, 1908-09-15

are We goin' journey? Have ye
got "a job?"
p think so. 1t looks like a perma-
nency. Goodby."
"Goodby, an good luck to ye. Sure
the boy looks mighty quare. IT'S grief
for his mother has turned his head en-
tirely"
No words could more clearly express
Philips condition than this friendly
summing up. Since his mothers burial
he had been half demented. His curt,
disconnected answers had lost him two
places as an errand boy, which he
could easily have secured. His small
stock of money, ridiculously depleted
by the generosity with which he met
the open hints Of the undertaker's as
sistants, barely sufficed to keep him in
food for a week. Then he sought en-
ployment. but with such stiff upper lip
and naughty Indifference to success
that he unknowingly turned those
against him who would have assisted
him.
For two days he was chosen to act
as van boy for parcel delivery firm.
He earned a few meals, but in fit Of
alteration induced by the sight Of a
lady who was dressed in a costume
similar to one he remembered his moth
er wearing at Dieppe, he allowed a
ham to be stolen from the rear of the
van. This procured his instant dis
missal, with threats. Then he sold
newspapers. only to find that every
good site was jealousy guarded by a
gang OF roughs who mercilessly bullied
any newcomer. Personal strength and
courage were unavailing against sheer
numbers. His face was still swollen
and his ribs sore as the result Of being
knocked down and kicked at Ludgate
Circus. At Charing Cross next day he
was hustled under the wheels of an
rAanibus and narrowly escaped death.
So he was driven into the side streets
and the quiet squares, in which, during
three or four days, he managed to
earn an average Of eightpence daily,
which he spent on food.
Each night he crept back to the poor
tenement in Johnson's News, his bleak
''home" amid the solitude of empty
| stables and warehouses. The keeper of
coffee stall. touched one night by his
woebegone appearance, gave him some
| half dried coffee grounds in a paper,
| together with a handful of crusts.
Put 'arf that in a pint Of water
he said, looking critically at the sod
dened mass Of coffee, IAN when it
comes to a bile let it settle. Itll sur
| prise you to find 'ow grateful an com
| fortin' it tastes on cold night. AS for
the crusts. il you bake 'em over the
fire, they're just as good as the rusks
you buy in tins"
This good Samaritan had repeated
his gift on two occasions. and Philip
had fairly large supply Of small coal
| sent to his mother by the colliery com
pany, so his position, desperate enough
was yet bearable had he but sought to
accustem himself to the new condi.
tons of life. There was chance that
| his wild broodings would have yielded
to the necessity to earn a living, and
that when next situation was offered
to him he would keep it, but the &C
| currences of this stormy night had
utterly shaken him for the hour. He
was on the verge Of lunacy.
AS he passed through the dark arch
way leading to his abode, the desolate
stable yard ras fitfully lit by lightning
and in the distances he heard the fain
rumble of thunder. The elementa
strife was beginning again. This wa:
the second and more disastrous out
break of the evening of March 10.
Although wet to the skin. he wa:
warm now on account of his long ant
rapid walk. Wben he unlocked thu
door another lash Of lightning re
vealeA the dismal interior. He CLOSED
and locked the door behind him. Or
the mantelpiece were farthing candle
| and some matches. He CROPPED fol
them and soon had a light. On othel
occasions his next task was to light {
| fire. BY sheer force Of habit he gath
cred together some sticks and bits O.
/ paper and arranged them in the crate
But the task ives irksoms to him. i