Jasper County Democrat, Volume 4, Number 28, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 19 October 1901 — ALL SORTS OF EXCUSES. [ARTICLE]

ALL SORTS OF EXCUSES.

Men Who Can’t Get Whisky Take Alcohol Straight An elderly man, with ragged and badly fitting clothes, a shuffling gait, a rum-besotted face covered with about three days' growth of beard and with a breath that indicated the close proximity of a distillery, wandered into a down-town drug storetheother morning about one o’clock, says the Washington Star. The saloons had closed. Staggering up to the drug clerk, he leaned over the counter and remarked, huskily: “Say, Willie, just fill that up with alcohol. Ten cente’ worth, see?” The ragged man produced a whisky flask, and, passing a dime over to the clerk, settled in a nearby chair with a grunt of contentment. “Alcohol, eh?” answered the clerk. “What do you want it for? We’re not selling rum in this place.” ? The ragged individual arose, and, going.over to the clerk, observed, in what was intended to be a highly injured tone of voice: “Now, youse, don’t get gay wit’ me. Rum? Who said anything about rum? That juice is goin’ to me chafin’ dish around the block. I'm goin’to cook me a rind, see? Sochasa along, me lad, and producethe good.” The clerk smiled, but, nevertheless, filled the order. “That’s the practice of those fellows pretty generally,” he said, after the bum had departed. “He has just made a hot touch, and being unable to get into a saloon is going to drink the real stuff. We have ten or 15 order« for alcohol from his class every night. On Sunday, if we .chose to sell it, we could do a rushing business in that line. The sable-colored bootblacks in this vicinity drink it almost entirely. Ten cents’ worth in a half-pint flask mixed with a little pump water, some sugar and lemon juice makes enough of a certain kind of gin to produce the much-craved-for sensation. They tell me all sorts of stories when I ask them to what use they want to put the poison. A hobo staggered into the place the other night for a dime’i worth. “ ‘Nothing doing,’ 1 remarked, laconically, seeing that he was nineten tha soused already. “ ‘Aw, now, come on,’ he pleaded. ‘I wants the dope for private use. That’s on the level.’ “ ‘What do you want it for?’ I asked, with some curiosity. “He came over to within whispering distance, and, leaning over the counter, remarked, in very confidential tones: “ ‘Say, youse just keep this on the quiet. I wouldn’t let it get out for the world. I’m painting a picture of me old college chum, Chauncey M. Depew, up to de house, and*l wants the •tuff to mix me oil«.* „ “He got the booze.” If you want elegantly printed calling cards, almost equal to engraved, at the price others charge for poorly printed ones, come to The Democrat offioe.