Democratic Sentinel, Volume 5, Number 40, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 11 November 1881 — That Boy of Gallagher’s. [ARTICLE]

That Boy of Gallagher’s.

The circumstances were as follows: Mr. Gallagher had to take a train that left at six o’clock, so he arose about daylight to breakfast, and thought he had better put on some thick boots instead of the light shoes he wore in the evening. Now, it seems that Gallagher’s son had worn the old man’s boot while roller skating, and had left skates on the boots, and in the darkness Gallagher did not notice this fact as he pulled the boots on, though he thought they felt heavy. He then groped his way to the head of the stairs, the skates making no trouble on the carpet. Then he started down stairs. He got there dreadfully sudden. He was terribly annoyed as he picked himself up, and said very wicked things as he' started for the diningroom. Breakfast was laid, but only a dim light was burning. Immediately he set foot on the polished floor his feet flew into the air and his head came down with terrible force. The wild yell that he gave brought his wife and moth-er-in-law in from the kitchen. He rose to his feet, but they immediately started off in different directions, and after wrenching his spine and knee joints terribly in trying to control them, they got away, and he jarred the spinal column as he went down. “Land of gracious! this floor is oiled,” he roared, as he began to make efforts to rise. “Have you apoplexy or have you been drinking?” asked his wife, as he strove to assist him to get up. “You hold your jaw, you idiot!” he replied, and then she let go of him sort of sudden, and down he went, bruising himself in six places. “Gosh,” “tunket,” “drat,” and “durn,” were words called into requisition to relieve his mind that time, and he told his mother-in-law, who had fallen laughing into a chair, that he hoped she would meet cows every, time she went out. Then he essayed to rise once more, and got upon his feet. The skates began to slip, but he struggled like a hero, and clutched the air wildly to keep his balance. No use. As he fell forward he wildly grabbed the table-cloth, and as a result yanked the entire breakfast down upon him. The hot tea scalded him, the pepper got into his eyes, the mustard into his mouth and the eggs all over him. His cries were fearful. They hauled him from the debris and started to put him to bed when they discovered the rollers. Mr. Gallagher was terribly used up, but he started at once to find his son, and the lad’s sighing over his great grief was heard blocks away.