The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1909-06-19

example of the men he'd been taught 10 obey for four years. Because he found him out. They didn't stop to ask if he'd used the miser'ble little sums of pilfered money to make his home happier an buy things for his much ice in law. He was just a com mon thief. An they sent him to States prison. Me an my mother could starye. for all the law cared. The was all holy Justice asked for We could die of hunger if we wanted to, now that the law had taken away the man who had stole to keep us alive.
 T guess you folks has read of the way men get treated in those places where the State gives 'em a chance to repent of their sins. For five years my father lived in a stone cubbyhole an had for chums choice election of the Devils Own Brigade. Not a soul in all that time to speak a decent word to him.-to say Please in givin' him his orders. It sounds like small thing to have no one say Please to you. But try it some time,
 After five years of herdin' with beasts.-only bein' treated worse'n the $. F. c. A. would let any beast be treated.-they turned my father loose. They'd set the prison mark on him; they'd taught him to keep comp'ny with blackguards: they'd made him callous to everything decent. an taken away his citizenship. Havin' done which. they genrously sets him free an gives him a chance to be a god fearin'. upright man in future. Who'll hire a convict? Who'll give him a show? No one-You know that as well as I do. How can he hold up his head among men who haven't had the bad luck to be caught? What was left for my father to do? To 'sociate with the only class that'd take him as an equal. To turn to the drink that made him forget they'd branded him as an out cast. That's what he did. I ain't say in it's right. I ain't sayin' that Saul Conover's a noble lookin' work of God as he sinks against that post there. The, drink that ,comforted him SO long has knocked out his manhood. The hard luck an starvin' has turned him old and ugly an bad-shaped. In short, he's what S'ciety an a Iovin' Paternal father. God help himi An the man who says I'm ashamed of him. lies!''
 Amid the oppressed silence. Caleb Conover crossed over to where his As gently as woman, he put his arm about the old mans twisted shoulders and drew him toward the door. A lane was made for their passage. From somewhere in the crowd came the sound Of a woman's stif1ed sob. Jack Hawarden impulsively clapped his lhapds together. There was an ins HEtant's shocked silence. Then-no one
  example was followed from all quart CTS of the dining hall: and rattle of incongruous applause re-echoed through the place;
 porting the wizened form. neared the door. young Hawarden barred his path. With boyish hero-worship shining in his eyes. Jack thrust out his hand. Caleb gripped it in silence and passed on, out into the darkness, None fol- lowed the strange pair as they left the clubhouse.
 Neither father nor son spoke a word road. far beyond earshot Of the club. Then Caleb stopped. glancing back as though fearful lest some inQuisitive guest might have come out to witness the sequel to the banquet hall scene: the drink-hog from the old mans brain. C1utching his son by the sleeve. and trenblingly batting the Fighters big hand. he whimpered:
 stGawd bless you. boy! It's a proud man I am this night. You're not ashamed of your poor old father what worked so hard for. you an' loves you so an'-
 With a gesture of loathinE, Caleb shook off the weak clasp.
 You measly old crook!' he snarled.
 Keep your dirty hands off me! HereH' thrusting roll of bills upon him. Take this an get out of town by the ward money an I'll see you get enough to keep you drunk till you die. But if you ever set foot in Granite again I'll have you railroaded to jail for life. An. after this. don't spring that Civil War yarn again. Civil war hard-luck stories are played out. Besides. you were never in the war at all: and you know you weren't. Don't lie when you don't have to. It spells your skill for necessary lies. Now. get away from here! Chaser