The Washington herald., 1920-06-27
By o. Henry
YEN and Them Away. nyln. where

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yen hnd them always nyin' where
] CO."
/ stood, uncertain how to take
my leave. 1 looked down the
street, shuffled my feet, looked
back again-and felt my hair rise.
The old man had disappeared.
And then my capillaries relax
ed. for dimly saw him footing IL
away through the darkness. But
he walked so swiftly and silently
and contrary to the gait promised
by his age that my 'composure was
not all restored, though / knew
not why.
, That night was foolish enough
to take down some dust-covered
volumes from my modest shelves.
I searched "Hermippus Redivvus"
and ''Salathiel" and the "Pepys
Collection" in vain. And then in
a book called The Citizen Of the
World and in one two centuries
old, / came upon what / desired
Michob Alder had indeed come to
Paris in the year 1643, and related
to the Turkish Spy an extraordi-
nary story. He claimed to be the
Wandering Jew. and that
But here 1 fell asleep, for my
editorial duties had not been light
that day.
Judge Hoover was the Bugle's
candidate for Congress. Having
to confer with him, ! Fought his
home early the next morning; and
we walked together down town
through little street with
which / was unfamiliar.
Did you ever hear of Michob
Ader?' l asked him, smiling.
Why, yes" said the judge
And that reminds me of my shoes
he has for mending. Here is his
shop now"
Judge Hoover stepped into a
diagy, small shop. i looked up at
the sign. and saw Mike OBader,
Boot and Shoe Maker" on it
Some wild geese passed above,
honkinS clearly. l scratched my
ear and frowned, and then trailed
into the shop.
There sat my Wandering Jew
on his shoemaker's bench. trim
ming a half-sole. He was drab-
bled with dew, grass-stained, un-
kempt and miserable; and on his
face was still the unexplained
wretchedness, the problematic
sorrow, the esoteric woe, that had
been written there by nothing
less. il seemed, than the stylus of
the centuries.
Judge Hoover inquired kindly
concerning his shoes. The old
shoemaker looked up, and spoke
sanely enough. He had been i'll.
he said. for a few days. The next
day the shoes would be ready. He
looked at me, and / could see that
/ had no place in his memory.
So out We went. and on our way.
old Mike" remarked the candi-
date, has been on one of his
sprees. He gets crazy drunk
regularly once a month. But he's
a good shoemaker"
What is his history? I in
quired.
Whisky" epitomized Judge
Hoover. That explains him"
L was silent, but / did not ac-
cept the explanation. And SO.
when i had the chance, 1 asked
old man Sellers. who browsed
daily on my exchanges.
Mike O'Bader said he, was
maxim shoes in MontopoIis when
/ come here goin' on fifteen year
ago. 1 guess whiskey's his
trouble. Once a month he gets
OF the track, and stays so a week.
He's got a rigmarole somethin' .
about his bein' a Jew pedler that
he tells ev'rybody. Nobody won't
listen to him any more. When
he's sober he amt sich a fool
he's got sight of books in the
back room OF his shop that he
reads. i guess you can lay all
his trouble to whiskey" .
But again l would not. Not yet
was my Wandering Jew rightly .
construed for me. I trust that
women may not be allowed a til
tie to all the curiosity in the
world. So when Montopolis' old
est iEhabitant (some ninety score
years yourger than Michob Aderp 1
dropped in to acquire promuIga- .
tion in print sirhoned his per-
petual trickle of renuniscence in
the direction of the uninterpreted
maker of shoes.
Uncle Abner was the Complets
History of Montopolis, bound In
butternut.
"o'Bader." he quavered. come
here in so. He was the first
shoemaker in the place. Folks
generally considers him crazy al
times now. But he don't harm
nobody. I s'pose drinkin' upset
his mind-yes, drinkin' very like
ly done it. It's a powerful bad
thing, drinkin'. I'm an old, ola
man. sir, and l never see no good
in drinkin'."
I felt disappointment. I was
fn Id
of my shoemaker, but 1 preferred
it as a recourse instead of a cause.
Why had he pitched upon his per-
petual, strange note of the wan.
dering Jew? Why his unutter-
able grief during his alteration.
l could not yet accept whiskey
as an explanation.
Did Mike O'Bader ever have a
great loss or trouble of any
kind?" / asked.
'Lemme see! About thirty year
ago there was somethin of the
kind. l recollect. Montopolis, sir,
in them days used to be a mighty
strict place.
We'll. Mike O'Bader had
daughter, then-a right pretty
girl. She was too gay a sort for
Montopolis, so one day she slips
off to another town and runs
away with a circus. 1t was two
years before she comes back, All
fixed up in fine clothes and rings
and jewelry, to see Mike. He
wouldn't have nothin' to do with
her, so she stays around town
awhile, anyway. 1 reckon the :
men folks wouldn't have raised
no objections, but the women
egged 'em on to order her to leaYa