Democratic Sentinel, Volume 8, Number 13, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 25 April 1884 — THE BAD BOY. [ARTICLE]

THE BAD BOY.

“It's pretty tough when a feller once gets a reputation for being mean,” said the bad boy to the grocery man. "Don’t you find it so in yopr business?” and the boy held up his elbow as though ho expected to be hit fti the ear, “I never had a reputation for being mean,” said the grocery man, “so I don’t know anything about it. I can see, however, that it must be very trying On you. What was you kicking the tomato can out of that boy’s hand for down in the alley? If I was that boy’s father I would wallup you till you would see stars.” “K o, you wouldn’t. If you was that boy’s father you would come and thank me and say I was the best friend the boy had,” and the bad boy pulled a half-bushel measure up to the stove and sat down. “You see, that boy is a good boy, one of your sweet little angels that never does anything wrong at home. His parents are very high-toned, and they wouldn’t let him play with a bad boy like me for anything, lor fear he would be spoiled. He is polite to his parents, and wouldn’t say ‘darn it’ before his folks for anything, but he is meaner than pusley away from home. About a week ago I heard that he and three other boys were in the habit of going to a low saloon and buying stale beer and taking it to the loft of a barn, and drinking it on the sly, and getting full, amlhaving headaches, and their parents thought the boys were sickly and petted them. The boys wanted me to go in with them and have fun drinking beer, but I'delivered them a regular temperance leoture, and I went to the saloon-keeper and told him he was doing his best to ruin those boys, but he said it was none of my business, and he fired me out. They boys laughed at me and said I was an old maid, and didn’t know the first principles of having fun. I tried my best to convince them that they were in danger of going to the bad, but they hooted at me; and this morning when I saw them going to the barn with a tomato can full of beer, I thought it was time something was done, so I kicked the tomato can out of the boy’s hand and spilled the beer, and broke up that drunk, sure. But several nice people who saw me kick the can called me a Avretch, and said I ought to be sent to the reform school. I don’t care what they say. I will put a stop to those boys drinking stale beer if I get knocked gally-west. I went to the Humane Society man and told him about tjre saloon-keeper, and he is going to have his license taken away; and if these boys put on any more style he is going to tell -their parents. When a fellow tries to be a reformer, and do good, the persons he tries to benefit go back' on him, and everybody thinks he is tough. Say, do you think there is much encouragement in trying to do the fair thing ? Don’t you think there is more suspicion directed toward a fel/ow that tries to do good than there is toward one who don’t-?” “O, J don’t know,” said the grocery man. “It a fellow who has been vile begins to do godd things, people are afraid he is not sincere, that lie lias some hidden scheme whereby he expects to reap a benefit. If you had always been good, it wouldn’t be noticed so much. ” “That’s what I thought,” said the boy, as he took out a lead nickel and showed it to the grocer. “Tuesday I was down town, and an old farmer was walking along in front of me, and I saw him drop his pocket-book on the sidewalk. I yelled to him and pointed to the pocket-book, and told him he dropped it, but he told me to go to the hot place. It was April fool day, and he •\ought I was fooling him, and he weir! on laughing, as much as to say no town boy could play any jokes on your Uncle Ike. Well, I picked up the focket-boolt, and it was a fat one, and followed the old farmer, and pulled his coat, and told him here was his pocket-book, but he hit me side of the jaw and said to go away or he would maul me. I never felt so mean since my girl went back on me, but I didn’t want to keep the old man’s pocketbook, and I didn’t want to be killed trying to deliver it to the owner. So I run ahead of him and stopped and opened the pocketbook, and when he came up I took out a roll of bills as big as my wrist, and showed them to him, and asked him if he knew whose pocketbook it was. What do you think the old granger did? He took the pocketbook with one hand and took me by the neck with the other, and called me a thief, and said I ought to go to State prison, and he took me into a stairway and set me down and stood on my coat tail so I could not get away, and kept me until he counted all the money in the wallet, cussin’ me between evei-y ten dollars he counted, and when he found it was all there, he put the wallet in a pocket inside his shirt and gave me a lecture about boys growing up to be thieves, anfl finally he gave me this lead nickel, took his foot off my coat tail and let me go, and then tried to kick me as I ran away. I don’t think that ;was right. Only for me lie would have, lost his wallet and probably gone crazy over the loss. What do you think of tliat kind of encouragement to be good?” “Well, that granger was simply a hard-hearted old” simoon, and you ought to have taken the wallet to the police station, and let him hunt for it,” said the grocery man. “ v lhe world is full of people who have no gratitude, and who suspect that everybody is a thief until they find out to the contrary, and then they reluctantly believe it. What this country needs is confidence. We want to feel that everybody is. honest. When people go into a grocery to buy coffee they want to believe that they are getting pure coffee, and ” “Yos, that is all right,” said the boy, as he was pawing over some roasted coffee in a barrel, but here are quite a lot of peas, I notice, in this coffee. There’s a dozen peas in every handful. Somebody must have cheated you, or did you put them in yourself? I thought it my duty to tell you, as you were speaking of coffee.” And the boy looked astonished when the grocery man kicked him outdoors as a customer came in, and he went off with his hand on his pistol pocket, saying, “Tried to

do three decent things, stop a boy from drinking, return a granger his pocketbook, and show the grocer that his coffee was full of peas, and I have got kicked iwice and hated once. Don’t know whether there is any money in being good or not. ” — Peck'* Sun.