Democratic Sentinel, Volume 3, Number 50, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 23 January 1880 — He Failed. [ARTICLE]

He Failed.

When a Quincy lady came to the front door in answer to the bell, she found there a well-preserved specimen of the genus tramp. RemoviQg his cereu uai, ne essayed a poiito dow, and said: “ Madam, when I lost my little all in the fire at Chicago, aid there received injuries which rendered me totally unfit to perform labor ” “ That will do, sir,” interrupted the lady. “ That dodge died from overwork years ago. I cannot help you.” “ Four years’ hard fighting in the glorious army which, by prowess of arms, crushed that hydra-headed monster, rebellion, should entitle me to the consideration of all loyal people, madam. It cannot be that the glowing fires of patriotism are so soon smothered in the breasts of our loyal women ?” “ How old are you, sir?” “ Twenty years ago to-morrow, Madam, my first infant wail was borne upon the air of this glorious free country.” The lady smiled, and replied:

“ How noble must have been tho feelings which actuated your parents to offer, as a willing sacri6ce upon the altar of their country, their darling year-old infant 1” This rather stumped the tourist, who began to perform a mathematical problem upon his smutty fingers. After a moment’s reflection, he again came up to the scratch: “ Madam, can a poor wanderer, who lost every friend he had in the world by the yellow fever in Memphis, successfully strike you for a little sustenance?” “Yellow-fever sufferers are entirely too numerous. I just turned away seven of them in one crowd.” “ Well, good-by, Madam; but remember my words: When you hear of the exiled nobleman having returned to his beloved France, aud when the Quincy pap; rs publish the account of his dying and leaviug a fortune to a poor family who fed him while a wanderer in this city, you will just git up and howl, and swear at yourself for refusing him a cold bite.” He dodged the umbrella hurled at him, and sailed for the gate. From the sidewalk he yelled: “Sa a-ay! when the Western Senator that’s awaiting for funds from home, and the man that was bio wed up by a cannon last Fourth o’ July taps yon for a hand out this morning, tell them they’ll find Hungry Jim from Toledo working the free-lunch saloons on Hampshire street!” and he marched off singing: t Rusty bums, jolly old chums, We liYe like royal Turks; When we have luck, a bummin’ ourcbuck, No help for the man that works. —Modern Argo.