The mirror. (Stillwater, Minn.) 1894-1925, 1922-09-07
"REMINISCENCES
Continued from page II


Simply this young fellow" he replied,
Il have done little sleuthing on my own
account. That full return address is r. J.
McCue, Jr, Attorney-at-law, Pine City,
Nebr and furthermore / have commune
Gated with the man, who is the son of the
man lying in there (pointing to building)
and the son refuses to do anything for
his poor broken down aged father. Now
that's why called the Blade. want you
to write up big story with his photo
graph, using the true names, and give this
shameless son some publicity, who refuses
to help his own father, and him a wealthy
state SENATOR" Indignantly and INGRAM
matically finished the superintendent.
Again glancing at my watch l realized
it was too late to catch the last edition to
quickly turning matters over in my mind
l decided to bind Mr.. Sheridan to secrecy
and loyalty to the Blade, for the very
good reason that on a rival paper was
young man whose forte was scoops" and
iCdlulC stollCS, Ills HdiilC was ToICPduSH
and he had a "nose for news" I feared
no one else. Now would have some time
to work on the story properly.
"Would it be asking too much Mr..
Sheridan to request that you maintain
strict silence in the matter and let the
Blade have the exclusive story?" asked
"Why, of course not" he replied, 81
want the Blade to handle the matter. Let's
20 inside now and see the old man."
Reckoning the camera man followed him
into the dingy building that housed and
fed the county paupers, then upstairs and
into a small cell-like room that contained
a nondescript bed and washstand. On the
bed lay an old man with huge head and
long flowing white beard. The skin of
the face, that was visible, was notified
blue and hung in heavy folds from the
repulsive head. The eyes cleaned maniac
ally and occasionally blinked stupidity.
The withered frame of once powerful
man was encased in cheap night gown.
The awkward and heavy bones looked
like they might burst through skin and
gown. Drooling at the mouth like help
less baby and muttering unintelligibly this
human wreck tried repeatedly to raise
himself to a sitting posture. Giving up at
last he lay back exhausted.
In the meantime, we stood contemplating
the sorry figure; no one trying to help or
converse with him. Finally I approached
his side took the clammy hand in mine
and muttered some kind of greeting and
10! he replied in a calm even voice:
"Hello Sonny"
l was surprised, but turned around to
see what effect the old mans words had
on Mr.. Sheridan. His face bore look
Of mingled fright and establishment. Then
turning back to the old man I quickly
asked "What is your name?"
"Dapper Dick McCue," he replied in the
same calm voice, then cor it used to be.
I've been away long time. Twenty
years, twenty years." YEARLY, then with
sudden interest, 81 wonder where Bessie
isl"
y n n
Well,dear reader, you will find this in
stalment strange combination of remini-
sciences and an effort at short-story writ
ing, but l trust it's many shortcomings
will be overlooked, as l intended to close
the "Reminiscences" as stated last week
and devote some time to constructing
stories for MIRROR readers for the near
future, however, the Editor advises me
that he has received many favorable COM
ments on the series of "reminiscences" so
l am persuaded to continue the weekly
installments, which l will gladly do, but
being slightly pressed for time (can you
imagine a guy pressed for time in HEREBY