The sun. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1833-1916, 1914-03-22

I have for legal expenses. and I do
feel tolerabul bad II l don't git no
coffee; but good day, sir. Thank you
fur your kindness to men passin' by.
The headache will wear off after n while,
I reckon. Good luck and good day to
YOU y
II Is hardly necessary to say that the
plausible chap got coffee and whatever
was going for breakfast, more, I fear
from the effect Of his Chestcriieldan
air than from sympathy with his inn
pending headache. ON his return from
cote" ten days later he stopped again,
feeling himself quite an old friend. He
brought with him besides the canny son
a youth he described as a every poor
boy" he was taking home with him in
order TO get him a job in the mines.
We fed them all and were richly re-
paid by the tactful praises showered upon
| us by Chesterfield. But it Is nothing
strange to lind courtly manners among
the very poorest OF Virginians. who
from the cradle seem TO have them
recollect in particular boy who
rode the mail once across these noun
tains. OF the poorest sort OF family.
he was very handsome and Of such
charming manners that used to envy
him the possession OF them. No matter
what troubles he had. and he had many,
nothing ever affected the easy courtesy
that sat congenitally upon him.
or another and more curious kind
was the man from Pittsburg. an ex-
| tremely cheerful little fellow who called
himself piano tuner on his way home
to Pttsburg after a professional tour
in the Virginias. He limited dlscreetly
that he had been hurredly sent for,
| being missed In musical circles of that
| smoky city; told of the magnificent
| cathedral now building there: men,
toned in great detail the vast sums
| subscribed to the building fund by nom
Catholics, said he was one OF triplets.
| all of whom lived to maturity--all boys.
| two of them priests-and Il but a mere
piano tuner" He gave me their names
and addresses; received my name in
return at his earnest request. as he
wished To send me certain papers when
he reached a town eighty miles away
| and then left after dinner with the very
| incest speeches. ! am still awaiting the
promised papers, and the Catholic d.
rectory" most unaccountably failed to
list those two brother priests.
| one scorching summer night at the
hour Of (Which is late one In the
country-a big man appeared noise
| lessly and suddenly in my back yard
| and asked for IA drink of water. l was
| sitting on the porch and went to get
| the drink. 1t was too dark to see his
features, but he spoke like South
erner. He was not hungry, he said, but
| wanted permission to sleep in my barn.
| AS ! had no barn he politely excused me
| from harborlng him.
Then he went on to tell of new
way he had of traversing these wild
mountains. Selecting the highest peak
in range, he would climb to it's sum
NIT and from that point note the high
est point Of the next range in the direc-
ton he was travelling; having done
this he would, without a compass. make
for the latter point no matter what OBJ
stacles might be In the way.
| Dwelling upon his scheme with in
creasng fervor he began To make me
nervous, hut after another long drink
of tepd water he left--to my vast re-
lief Still, he showed sense of pro.
priety, for he remarked that many peo-
pie objected to letting trampers sleep In
their barns from the danger Of fire
from smoking; but he added that he
never used tobacco In any form. "al-
though. OF COURSE they do not believe
me when say so, and I cannot blame
them"
] often wonder how the youth Jared
who burst In on me one day fairly clad
in rags, but marvellously happy and
clipper.
Now. brother" said he, II amt hun