The Waterbury Democrat., 1934-04-20


 NoTE-1'he following ar- ticIe is written by James
 William Fitzpatrick, well- known writer, lecturer, and
 speaker, formerly of this city.
 You alone?" queried the Man
 on the Place Adjoining, poking his head inside the door. There were icicles hanging from his en- ormous mustachios and an icy blast accompanied his query. As sured I was alone, he kicked tho snow from his er-footed felt boots and came in. The price of milk being what it is, small econ omies are necessary these days,
 so the Man on the Place Adjoin- ing drops in nightly to salvage my
 daily paper. But, unlike the
 other natives, he does not believe that it is more blessed to receive than to give and never comes emp ty-handed. If he senses that am tout" he bears an ancient wickerbound jug stoppercd with a corn-cob and filled with strange and delectable contents On such
 occasions we proceed with the ritual.
 He retires to the kitchen for the two old shaving mugs which came with the house and into them puts combination of cloves, cin- namon, lemon peel, and lump
 sugar. It is my job to see that the kettle hanging on the fireplace crane is steaming by the time he tx1,n fha WipKar- bound jug has contributed to the
 mugs and the armchairs have been set the proper distance from the open fire, the discussion on "cab-. bages and kings and sealing wax" begins. Among his other admir- able traits the Man on the Place Adjoining never pours another's drink.
 "Why wouldn't I be alone? inquired. No one but an Es- kimo like you would be abroad with the thermometer ten below zero"
 9Th thermometer don't stop people pokin' their noses where they don't belong,' he explained, | as he brought the wickerbound
 jog into view and set jet gently on
 inc hearthstone. ''I just wanted
 to be sure you didn't have no
 snoopers." The telephones ring interrupted him and he began to
 smile quietly. Gods gift to tn curious" he chuckled. 9Th party line! Fore that thing quits ringin' they'll be ten sets of ears hooked
 onto it and by noon tomorrow
 what they hear'll be all over the village. Remind me to tell you
 bout old Miss Simmons when l
 get back from tn kitchen" l
 promised but the first sip of the steaming mixture in the shaving
 mug made me forget everything | else.
 Not that it's any of my busi- ness, but would you mind telling me what this particular inspiration is?'' I smacked.
 "Nothin' but three-year old grape wine," he began, but at my look of skepticism hesitated.
 "Course they Is somethin' else into | it. Instead of addin' water to tn grape juice when she's maxim
 use sweeet cider made outa hand picked russets. Faint pad-took | in moderation" The exposure of his secret formula warranted a
 guest cigar which he puffed ap- | preciatively. "Y' know we amt half thankful enough for little
 things, things like bein' born with all our legs and straight backs and
 real seegars and apples" he con- fded.
 Now the Man on the Place Ad- joining boasts of having no re- Iieious utilization. It has to do with an old feud between himself and the village bankers who also happen to be deacons of the vil- lage church. So any time he wax es pious it is the prelude to a blast ing attack on the local financiers. This time he fooled me.
 "Who's thankful for apples?" he orated. "And yet apples is one of
 tn grandest things they. is. With
 out that russet cider, what you're
 drinkin' wouldn't be nothin' but plain grape wine."
 What about Mrs Simmons?" I
 interrupted.
 "Oh, her." he chuckled. "She
 moved away fore you come. Tn
 curiousest woman ever lived. No
 need of a newspaper while she was
 around. Night or day when the
 phone rang she was right there iistenin,. Curiosity is terrible
 thing onct 1t gets holt of you. Put | Mis- Simmons out of business fin- ally" He took reflective sip from the shaving mug before he
 went on. ''They were a writin' fellah rented the Fairchild place one winter and he bought all his eggs and chickens and butter from her. Kept her alive, his buyin' did. Well, seems he had a boot legger down Stamford way and | whenever he'd run out he'd call | this bootlegger on tn phone and order so many chickens or eggs or butter 'cordin' to what stuff he needed. One day he forgot he was
 on party line and when he hung up Mis- Simmons rung him right
 back and wanted to know if her eggs and butter and chickens
 wasn't good enough for him no
 more. He couldn't tell her what
 he was up to and by tn time she
 gratitude he got made and WOdAhA puy tAViA AOAs &AhA
 by tn time she finished black guardin' him to everyone in tn village he didn't have no more
 reputation than a deacon. But say,
 curiosity kills more than tn cat and Mis- Simmons business. Took | a hunk outa my life, I tell you" I expressed my sympathy to get
 the story started. Wasn't nobody to blame but
 myself" he sighed, and cast q com prehensive glance around the liv-
 ing room. 1T just noticed that you
 ain't got no radio. Don't you
 like 'em?"
 "Loathe them," replied
 "Me too" he admitted. "But they was q time couldn't get my chores done quick enough at night to turn tn thing on. Why I got SO bad if had to choose be-