Newspaper Page Text
SUNDAY MORNING.
DYING LIKE
A MAN
By HOWARD WILLIAMS
Copyright, MOl, by A. 8. Richard non
How long Bonos, the vagabond, had
been a country tramp before he reach
ed London could only be guessed at by
the butchers and fishmongers of Apple
gale market, where he took up bis
headquarters. He was a man of fifty
when he first hung about, and he had
the appearance of being “seasoned.”
No one ever asked Bones any ques
tions, and he volunteered no informa
tion.
Koine one called him Bones the first
day he appeared, and the name stuck
to him. He accepted It without re
mark. What is tiie odds to a vaga
bond whether he is called Bones or
Jones?
It may seem curious that no one ever
became sufficiently interested In Bones
to draw him out or that some day
when he longed for human sympathy
he did not volunteer his story; lent, as
a matter of fact, he was only one of
hundreds of vagabonds slouching along
tin; of London. Why should
any one of higher station Care who he
was or whence he came? And If he
laid related his history it might have
been that of scores of others and would
huve brought neither sympathy nor
sixpence.
Bones was inoffensive. He was also
passably honest, and when kicked out
of the way he took it as a matter of
course. He was content with the shab
biest raiment and had not too hearty
an appetite, so it came about that
he was allowed to hung about the mar
ket without complaint. His lodgings
were in vacant buildings, coalyards or
doorways, and the only time he got full
meals and a decent bed was wheil the
police pulled him in and lie was sent
to the workhouse.
lie Imd put In ten years in London,
and there was no appreciable change in
him. He was gray haired, stoop shoul
dered, ragged and red nosed, hut he
hud been (hat on his arrival. Nor had
there been any change In his plans,
lie had come to London to live out the
remainder of his days, and lie was do
ing It. If it ever occurred to him that
some day he must land in the alms
house, die and be burled ns a pauper,
he said nothing about it and was not
worried.
One day Bones was slouching along
David street, he was not begging or
sightseeing or looking after coal to
be put In. He was simply vagabondiz
ing and letting Ills feet take his body
where they would. If u policeman had
made an arrest. Bones would have hud
no curiosity. If the tire engines had
come rattling up, he would not have
halted ami become a spectator. He had
witnessed dogfights, street rows, fires
and arrests so often that they no lon
ger held any Interest.
One who saw him dragging along
with his eyes on the ground would have
said that nothing hut u kick from a
truck horse could have aroused Idm,
and yet a mere trltle did the business.
Of a sudden u pet poodle pursued by a
gung of hoys ran up to Bones as if to
ask for protection, lie picked lit) tho
dog aud carried tt along, and, though
threatened by the hoodlums, he clung
to the canine. After walking two
blocks he came upon a carriage con
taining a girl about ten years old. Tho
poodle had escaped from the carriage
as It was driving through Willow place,
and the little one was crying piteously
over her loss.
Bones walked directly to the vehicle
and placed the dog In her arms, and
the overjoyed girl reached out for his
hand and exclaimed:
“Oh, you good, good man! You look
ragged, hut 1 know you’re not bad. I'll
give you some money, and if you’ll
come and see papa I know he’ll find a
place for you and help you along. My
name Is Minnie, and it was so good of
you, and”—
But the driver shook his whip at tho
vagabond and started up Ids horses.
Dor the rest of that day Bones was
only outwardly Bones, lie had been
kindly addressed by a human being,
lie had been told that someone might
help him upward. His hand had been
shaken in gratitude, and lie had been
called a good man. There was some
thing new here to hold his thoughts
and turn over in his mind, and he was
so preoccupied that he crept to tils bed
In a coalyard without having begged
the usual crust.
“It must be that 1 am a humnu be
ing after all. If I hadn't been, the girl
wouldn't have spoken ns she did. To
have someone shake hands with me,
to call me a good man, to thank me
for a service—l can’t make it out. But
It’s come too late. I'm too old to
change. Nothing could lift me up now,
nothing give me hack what I have
lost. There's only one thing I can do,
and that's to pray God 1 may die like
a man like the man 1 once was.”
A week later, though Bones heard
nothing of it, nil I.ondon thrilled with
excitement and indignation over a case
of kidnaping. A little girl, the daugh
ter of a banker, had been caught up
at her father's very gate iu the dusk
of evening and carried off in a carriage.
Bones never read the newspapers, and
tt was seldom that he was In the com
pany of one who did. Had lift-read or
heard all about the case, hojvever, it
would only have been of iiassing. Inter
est -just another crime to lengthen the
dally list
One day he slouched along David
street again. He had been driven out
of his lodgings in the coalyard, and as
winter was coming on he was looking
for a vacant house to turn into o'
nights. Between Great George and
Canterbury streets he discovered a ter
race of four houses which were for
rent One of them cornered on an ai-
Icy, and after a careful reconnoissanco
Bones decided that on entrance might
be effected after dark. He would have
neither bed nor fire, but the poorest
of the rooms would be comfortable for
a vagabond.
When night came, Bores was on
hand. It was not the first vacant
house by a hundred in which he had
taken up temporary quarters, and he
knew the trick of prying open cellar
windows. Once In tne ceiiar, the iignt
of a match showed him the way up
stafi-jj, and as he reached the kitchen
he iffyi surprised to find a bit of fire
In the range and the remains of a meal
on a shelf. Before giving the matter
any thought he ate up all the food be
fore him and hugged the range until
he had ceased to shiver. Someone had
been ahead of him. It was not a vag
abond like biinseif, because there were
the food and the fire, and thieves and
burglars would have no call to enter
empty houses. A half consumed can
dle showed that the tenant bad been
there for a night or two, and it was
likely he had a key to one of the floors.
Bones was somewhat mystified, but
not frightened. With a lighted candle in
his hand he set out to explore a little
and decide which room to sleep in.
After a look into the three or four
rooms downstairs he mounted to the
second story and had hardly reached
the landing when he heard men’s
voices from one of the bedrooms, to
gether with what seemed the sobbing
of a child. Out went his candle, and
he got down on hands and knees and
crept along to listen at the door. There
were two men and a child In that room,
and the child was weeping and plead
ing.
No one will ever know what Bones
thought or planned to do, ns the door
was suddenly opened by one of the
men, and he was found crouching
there. He did not run away. One
look Into the lighted room showed him
an old table, two or three chairs, a bed
of blankets and on the bed the little
girl of the lost dog. Ho leaped into
llic room as the man started Ifrck, anil
as tiie girl recognized him and cried
out the two kidnapers cursed.
There was half a minute when no
ono moved. Then one of the men
rushed lo the door and shut it, and
both drew knives and advanced upon
the vngabond. All her life the little
girl will remember bow Ids Impassive
face lighted up, tiow lie suddenly grew
straight and tall, how ills eyes glis
tened ns he seized one of tiie heavy
chairs and began the battle. They,
were a pair of burly ruffians, and they,
hnd long, keen knives, but It was a
fight lasting many long minutes. As
they stabbed and thrust he beat them
to their knees. They wounded him
again and again, and he left a trail of
blood as bo shifted ids position, but
one of them was dying and the other
bad a broken arm before the old vaga
bond tottered and fell, with the bro
ken chair still clutched In Ids fingers.
Tho child saw it nil with bated breath
and wide open eyes, and, though she
did not know of Ills hope, she saw that
ho died like a man—uye, like the brav
est of men! *-i
With ids broken bone Hand bruised
body and with fear of the police In his
heart the surviving ruffian made his
way out of the house, and the child
was left the long night with the dead.
When niornigg came, she beat upon a
window until attention was attracted
and men broke in the door and rescued
her. It was not tho police who found
the kidnapers, but old Bones. It was
not a public officer who had eagerly
sought a battle with tho ruffians and
yielded up his life after a heroic fight,
but simply an old vagabond of Apple
gate market. And ids eulogy and his
epitaph wore tiie words of the child
who saw him do battle for her:
“He was old and dirty and ragged,
but he was a man!”
Tlie Politician an an Actor.
There are multitudinous small things
which, as a little man, one would sup
pose must press heavily upon an emi
nent politician. He must be civil to
all men -eiviler perhaps lo the fools
than to any. The fools he has always
with him—-always. The eminent poli
tician must serve ns the especial butt
to a vast and wonderful array of bores.
How he must despise the large major
ity of Ids so called followers' With
what scorn he must regard them in lvis
heart! And yet how he has to go out
of his way to solicit the favor of their
vote and Interest! How lie has some
times to palter with a lie—lie must
have! How he must be all things to
all men!
He is an actor as much as any actor
that ever trod the mimic stage, and bo
he sick or sad he has to give satisfac
tion to the audience in front if he
would keep his situation, lie has to
struggle and strive to keep in his hands
the ends of fifty different strings which
are being pulled In fifty different direc
tions aud preserve Ills balance and bis
bend amid them all.
And what is the end of it? What is
the reward of the eminent politician?
It is when one considers this question
that one is amazed to think that any
man should think it worth his while
to pay the penalty of political great
ness.—All the Year Round.
An Epitaph.
On the 10th of February, 1750, died
a Miss Basnett at the n>re ol tweuty
three, who was buried in the church
yard of old St. Pancreas and upon
whose tomb the following lines were
placed:
00, spotless honor anp unsully’d truth:
Go, smiling: Innocence and blooming
youth;
Go, female sweetness joined with manly
sense;
Go, winning wit that never gave offense;
Go, soft humanity that blessed the poor;
Go, saint eyed patience from affection’s
door;
Go, modesty that never wore a frown;
Go, virtue and receive thy heavenly
crown.
Not from a stranger came this heartfelt
verse;
The friend inscrib'd thy tomb whose tear
bedew'd thy hearse. .*.
THE BRUNSWICK DAILY NEWS.
; '
F¥AY.
WILL tit ii ■- - h.. a M In itetlljp
TO Li•!oi\Eß3 Cr THE
Best atm i iiigß
td| AnD LA** the we RljJJ!?*
T' •• ■
UA\y \1& A TVTV riA A DC will the United Stan collect Taxes on
a1 U W IVi AIM Y VtiiAKo during the Mon-.ii <-i ‘L < ember, 1903?
(Cigars bearing $3.00 per t hoc sang tax)
c; 1■ o r ’OD OO £' ven * n ‘January, 1903, to the person-* whose estimates
• are nearest to the number of cigars on which 53.00 tax per
thousand is paid during the month of December, 1903, as shown b the total ss: . of
stamps made by the United States Internal Revenue Department during L>ecer?<ber, vy.:z.
istribution will be mado a.s followsi
To the. ...(!) parson estimating the closest ... .. . . 55 OCO.OO in caih
To the. .. 2 persons whose estimates are next closest *3,500.00 each)... ... 6.000.00
To the. .5 persons whose estimates arc next closest .(§1.000.00 each! 5 000.00 ”*
To the ..10 persons whose estimates are next closest ,1503.00 ear!,) 5,000 CO
To the. .83 persons whose csitraates are next closest .(8250.00 each) . . 50' QOO
To the . 1.3 persons whose estimates are next closest (§IOO.OO each) 2.50(5 OO “
•To the.... 50 persons whose estimates are next closest (5:0.00 each) 2300 OO ”
To the. . .100 persons whose estimates are next closest.. ($39.00 each). 2,500.00 ■<
To tho. .3,000 persons whose estimates are next closest (810.00 each). . 20000.00
To the .3,000 persons whose estimates are next closest. ($9.00 each) . 1 5,000.00
To the “0,000 persous whose estimates are next closest we will send
to each one box of 50 “Crcmo" Cigars (value 82.50 per box) 75 000 OO
55.2(3 ’
33,213 persons . . $142,500.00
Every 100 bands from above named cigars will entitle you to four estimates.
* (One " b’lorodora*' band rountinr as two lands (mm the 5 cent agars mentioned, and no less
than ltO lands wiil be received at any one time lor estimates)
Information which may be of value ia making estimates:—the number of Cigars now bearing $3.00 Tax per thousand, for which _Slamps
were purchased, appears below :
In December, 1900, 407,092,208 Cigars. 0 In March, 1902, 510,599,02? Cigars
” December. 1901, 470,312,170 “ ■’ April, 1902. 610,885,103 „•*
*• January, 1902, 496.983,717 *• " May. 1992, 623,035,'*;7
“ February, 1903, 445,41)" !33 ••
In case of a tie in estimates, the amount offered will be divided equally among those entitled to !:. DP' •• of the aware: will be
made as soon after January Ist, 1903 as the figures are obtainable from the Internal Revenue Denar:men', of die l . *:i -, for (>•. . vj.i -
Write your full name and Post Office Address pln il,- on packages containing bauds. The Pi su x. or .-. ,t res* char -e ou V<> :r ackafe
must be fully prepaid, in order for your estimate to panicir.ita.
All estimates under this offer ir.nst be forwarded before December Ist, 1062, to the . . FLORODOftA TAG COMPANY, Jersey City, N. J.
You do not lose the value of your bands. Receipts will be sent you for your bands, and'‘these receipts will be just a s’
good a3 the bands themselves ia securing Presents. One band from “Ii .rodora,” or two bands from auv of the other Cigars
mentioned above, will count in securing Presents the same as one tag from *• Star,” “ Horse Shoe,” ** Spear Head,” “ Standard
Navy,” “Old Peach and Honey," “J. T.” “Master Workman,” “Piper Heidsieck," “Jolly Tar,” “Boot Jack,” “054 Honesty,”
“Razor,” or “Planet” Tobacco; or one “Sweet Caporal” Cigarette Box Front.
® Sw.4 acl estimate on a separate piece of paper, with your name end address plainly written mi each. Stank terms for estimate* wlii be matted upon anrlxatteng
Illustrated Catalogue of Presents for 1903 and 1904 will be ready for distribution about•'October Ist*l2o2. and will be loaded on A
of ten cents, or ten tobacco tags, or tweuty cigar bands, r
SEPTEMBER 21,