The new enterprise. (Madison, Fla.) 1901-1908, 1908-05-21

The day was warm as Simon Tan
ner slouched ON the shady side of the
street his way to the public house
to Ia q "half-pint" for the fourth
time thal morning, and the hand Of
the church clock had yet recorded the
hour Of eleven. In appearance Simon
was a compound Of the broken-down
petty tradesman, a carpenter long out
of employment, and man, who would
not work at all; but, as matter of
fact he was jobbing carpenter, who
worked little when he was obliged,
and idled whenever he felt he could
do 50 without the fear Of being de-
prived Of the drink that was dearer
to his bcart than anything else on
earth.
He had home and wife and chill
dren, all in sad harmony with drunk
ards life the one bare Of furniture,
and the other half starved, detected
and utterly miserable.
81 want pint OF beer, Mr.. Bouncer,
and III pay you this afternoon, If you
don't mind" said Simon to the publ
can.
''No 60" said Mr. Bouncer, drawing
a glass for himself and drinking be-
fore the very eyes of the thirsty Sim
on, thereby infictins upon him unnec'
essary pain. you Cant have the beer,
because you won't pay And besides,
better watch you amt put on this ere
Black List
Hoping that somebody Of more
amiable turn of mind than the land
lord might come in and stand him
drink" Simon ruefully took a seat on
a tub at the back Of the bar and
sought, with Indifferent success, TO
ward OF his thirst by reading the po-
lice reports.
The bar was empty at that time,
but in a few minutes others came in
three men in the holland suits worn
by painters and house.decorators. Sim
on was deep in case Of wife-beating
arising from drink-in which he had
a sort OF sympathetic feeling, having
occasionally given few blows to Mrs.
Tanner instead Of bread when she
asked for it--when roar Of laughter
from the men caused him to look up
20 find what had given rise to the
merriment.
It was a little child, a boy with 4
wan face that spoke volumes, stand.
ing just within the door. The few rags
he had upon his poor. little, pinched
frame we're not worthy OF the name
OF clothes, and his little feet were
thrust into a pair Of battered, dingy
boots big enough for a man. It was
the boots the painters were laughing
at and at first sight the appearances
Of the child was undoubtedly ludi-
crous.
But their laughter soon ceased. The
boots might be absurd, but the little
limbs almost lost In the huge proper
lions OF the battered coverings to his
feet were touching to look upon, and
When the men lifted their eyes to the
sad face they became silent. The child
was mute too. He simply stood there
with his eyes asking for bread.
The man nearest to him, a big,
bIack-whiskered fellow with a kind
face. broke the silence. "Halloo, lit
tie Jack" be said; what do you
want9"
MY name isn't Jack it's Jim," re-
piled the child: " and want a bit Of
breadn
Poor little fellowl" sold the man.
sHere8 master give US a biscuit for
the 10y what shame for man to
send his child about IN his old boots
Not old bootsl" said the boy. with
a shrewd fathers best sunday
boots.7
This drew out another roar Of
laughter. and ono Of the men, hoist
ing the child up, cried ont Look,
matesl here's a pair of best Sunday
boots for you. what a nice. respect.
able father BE must be - The rest oi
It's clothes ore only IKE them' they
an laughed again.
Faiber never gives me anythins'