Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1922-08-12

StuSDU. lie was SIIlull, UhTK,
wrinkled, peering man, who Slipped
swiftncss like crab. lie led them to
Il small washroom from which Q first
emerged Over in far corner of the
large dim room his keen, curious eyes
had noticed n STOPPING, bundled figure
in an armchair, n figure that was in
cc'santly engaged in tiny, restless move
mcnts and whsperings. MY old
grandfather" said the man: near a
hundred he Is and little out of his
wts-nobody listens to him-he talks
to hisself like that all day and half
the night. l get him up like bundle
mornings, and set him down in thet
chair and there he sets and chatters to
hisself until pick him up and put
him to bed. It's near his bedtime now
Q strolled over to the "bundle' and
received surprisingly intelligent look
from eyes embedded in myriad wrin-
kles, so deep and numerous that the
features were lost entirely, all but these
punctuatcd by queer, grieving, half
chanted "um- hum" went on without
interruption, not stopping, even though
the chatterer acknowledged Qs presence
BY nodding of its head.
"Little Whiskcry Fellow"
fat little whiskcry fellow he was
Tim hum wore rings and rode horse
back -um-and didn't care what
he rode-seen him many's the time
gallopin' down the road fit to break
his hunters legs-and they tell me
how on wager he rode through the
river tunnel to race the express and
/ t,,,t ,,,tp hnt, 1,f- hnf An G
alorc he lost his second wife-uscd to
bring the dressmnker woman here long
aforr he got his freedom to marry her
his third wifc-funny how little
whiskcry Teller like him could git three
| fine young women to tie up to him--
| those days we'd have some queer par
! ties at the inn
1T must have been a regular round
up them days. said @, and the old
man was so delighted that he straight
encd up and smacked with his toothless
| lips, his eyes Frightening intensely In
:, heir folds.
"Ah, sir, you say so! Many the
stories | could tell, but who's to listen !:
Il set here and tell EN- over to my
sclf-nobody cares now, nobody cares
now. All the old life Of Sluypenkill
dead and gone-um- -um-motors carry
| folks away to the citics--no parties up
| here now-cXcept once in n hundred
months when we get something vulgar
but | can remember things-about the
old families. There was skeletons that
went stalking about our rooms. All
ghosts now, sir. You look like gentle
man yourself but YOU haven't got
the twist Of the tOngue-you favor old
| Mr.. DcLanccy-he was a fine young
chap and his sister, Miss Susan, pretty
and sweet, pretty and sweet, and her
father wouldn't see her again, not after
her marriage--Oh, they cared for their
names, those days. Um-um. Other
fathers might have had reason to-
."Don't let yourself be bored by him,
sr," suggested the siding innkceper,
drawing near and not troubling to lower
his voice for the suggestion; "hc just
runs on about the old days-half Of 1t
he makes up himself. l think-1'll
have your supper ready in about ten
minutes. The other gentleman IS wait
ing for you
"I'll be there in n minute y was
really about to move away when his
attention was arrested by n name which
lulUlCu Out Vi lhc oit AH"f '''"e'A "A'
u sort Of chuckle.
"Dr. SaleS--um -um--that night
had the ncuralgia-O Lordy, what
night-not q wink of sleep for poor me
and the rain slidin' down the roof
| couldn't bear it, just felt l had to
get the doctor to give me something at
half past two or may be three it was,
and | wrapped my wife's flannel petit
coat about my face and lighted candle
to find my way to DR.. Sales-he was
good -natured, yes, he was; they talk
about him now, but in those days when
he hadn't no practice and just come out
here and played the piano to my daugh-
tcrs and sang--well, he was good
nutured and that's all l ask-um- UNI
YOU don't get folks to listen to an old
man now-but / wasn't so old then,
TO be sure If it hadn't been for the
neuralgia, though, I'd never have seen
the poor frightened thing come creeping
along with her letter and slipping 1t
under DR.. Sales door-shc not un-
dressed at that time of the morning.
n Grinscoombe, If you please, crying
along the hall and shaking and looking
about her like n scared rabbit--me hid
ing against the corner there upstairs
i thought 1t was something queer when
she came in with Mr. Thaycr--not the
prcscnt one, you know--very handsome
gentleman, very, beautiful big eyes
slow -spoken--always spoke low to the
ladies' and kept looking into their eyes
many Il time I've seen hlm-but she
kept herself wrapped up In veil ana
wouldn't come down to suppcr-he
looking as fierce as II panther-and !
kept wondering what he was up to with
tall, slim, dark haired young woman
when | knew his wife-shG was Van
Dusen-was q tiny blonde, but | never
would of thought Miss Sclda Grns-
coombc, if it hadn't been for my neu-
rulgia and catching her creeping along
the hall with letter to slip under Dr.
Sales door-yes, sir, he helped her to
yet away that night back to her father
and | never told what ! saw--um- hum
-innkecpers and pricsts-innkeeperS
and priests. But now nobody will listen
TO me mumbling and whispering on
account of my teeth, and somehow you
remind me of the young gentlemen that
used 10 be here with their .laughin' and
| their drinkin' and the wrong kind OF
women and the right kind Of women,
thinking, poor little dears, that they
was doing something kind of bold and
cny-like Miss Susan with her livery
Stable boy or little Mrs. Van Dusen
and her husband, and her husbands
cousin from Boston"
Here z moved away.
ryhNT,TNIIEn MONDAY -