The Kennewick courier-reporter. [volume] (Kennewick, Wash.) 1914-1938, 1926-01-28
Mu FaDorife Stories
Bp lRuIN S. COBB
Driven Beyond His Strength

80
The late Paul Armstrong had two
favorite stories. One of these he called
by the title "Pansy and the Pilsener."
and while it was funny. it would never
do for publication in a newspaper hav-
ing family circulation. The other
was what is known as a parlor story.
1t dealt with down-and-outer who
made precarious living as a sand
witch man. EncaSed front and back,
like a turtle in its shell, between broad
boards which bore advertisements for
a dairy LUNCH, he marched the BOwery
all day long for wages barely sufficient
to keep body and soul together.
One day, as he plodded his weary
route, he saw shining coin lying upon
the sidewalk. Instantly he set his foot
upon 1t, and then, STOPPING with diff
ficulty because of his wooden waist
coat, he clutched it in his eager fin
gers and raised it to his eyes. Then
his heart inside of him gave great
throb of joy. 1t was twenty-dOllar
gold piece. He was wealthy beyond his
widest ambitions.
Across the street was an excavation
for new building. He hurried thither.
Standing on the edge Of the digging he
unbuckled the straps which bound the
squares of planking to him. and, kick
ing them to pieces with glad ex-
ultant cry, he flung the shattered en-
blems of his servitude down into the
hole below. Then straightway he de-
parted for the nearest saloon, and
stalking in, a triumphant figure even in
his Haunting tatters. he slapped his
precious gold piece down upon the bar
and called for drink of whisky. It
was to have been the first Of long and
gorgeous succession of drinks of
whisky.
Someone jostled him in the side. He
turned his head to see who might be
interrupting his happy dreams, and
when he looked back again his double
eagle mysteriously had vanished, and
the barkeeper was motioning him to
depart.
He protested, naturally. Whereupon
the barkeeper reached for the bung
starter, swung it with a skill born Of
long practice, and struck him squarely
between the eyes. A moment later the
ex-sandwich man found himself sprawl
ing on the sidewalk, his happy visions
gone forever
A prey to melancholy, filed with deep
disappointment and yet deeper sense
of injustice, he got upon his feet and
started to limp away.
Next door to the saloon was base
ment barber shop. From it at this in
slant there emerged a Bowery mission
worker, an elderly gentleman of a
benevolent aspect, his pink j0wls newly
scraped and his face powdered. AS he
climbed up the steps to the level of
the sidewalk this gentleman bent over
to refaSten a looSened shOelace.
Now, to the best Of his knowledge
and belief, the derelict never before
had seen the missionary, but as the lat
ter stopped, presenting before him an
expanse Of black coat tails, the mis-
anthrope hauled off and dealt the gen.
tie stranger terrific kick.
With a yell of establishment and
pain the clergyman landed ten feet
away.
what did you mean by that?"" he,
demanded, rubbing the seat Of his
trousers with both hands. "Why did
you kick me?'
"Oh," said the ex-sandwich man, in
tones Of an uncomfortable annoyance,
you're always tying your shoestring|
Copyright by the Central Press Association.)
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