People's Pilot, Volume 5, Number 20, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 7 November 1895 — The Hotel Man’s Observations. [ARTICLE]

The Hotel Man’s Observations.

Written for the People’s Pilot. Rossville, Ind., Oct. 30. Hotel life has given me many new and interesting sides in the varied experiences of those with whom I have to do. Men of all •nationalities and all degrees of intelligence mingle in this home for comers and goers. Orders from the different business places of the city are completed and mailed to head quarters, on the profits of which depend the bread and butter of these varied casts of humanity. Around the fireside of this common home sit all these after the day’s work: one reading the news of the day; another looking over the list that comprises his day’s doings, his face beaming with satisfaction; still another who does not seem so well pleased and inquires what are the rates of your house? Two are discussing the political outlook. There comes a gentleman from the train who enters and walks to the register, writes his name, and I find he hails from Toledo, Ohio. His face is familiar, and as he opened his grip I notice a bible in one corner. He is not careful to hide it from view nor egotistical in making of it a display. I said to him he must have had a good, mother, “Taught at my mother’s knee,” was his only reply. Here comes one of our he is the drayman; weight over two hundred pounds. He is known by the title of “windy William;” rough in his language, and profane; some are pleased even with this coarseness; Others turn with disgustfrom such emittings; had

that physical form been wrought into a gentleman what respect would have been paid him. To estimate the loss first to himself and then to those moved by the nobler aspirations in man. is not to be computed. Then around me are others discussing the lower strata of human depravity. 1 They seem to love to delve deep to bring out a display of their experience, which may be only the fruits of adebauched imagination. Others take the preachers as a text for their peculiar effusions, and if what I hearto night is a fair sample of the estimate placed on them by hotel patrons I am satisfied that the hotel bar will not help a preacher on to heaven. But here is an old man, grayhaired, who has traveled his circuit for, lo these many years; he listens in silence. At last when all have had their say he remarks: “What do you take a preacher to be? He is only a man with the same impulses as other men. He is not an angel; he is not Jesus Christ, nor God, but subject to the common race infirmities, and needs the same human sympathy and support as other men. No class of men have made greater sacrifices for small remuneration, than they for their principles and teachings.”

But here comes another applicant, “Can I have a room?” The fumes of the still are on his breath; his step is unsteady and his language confused; he takes his chair to the outside and chatters his insanity to all passers by. At last the hour to retire has come and each goes to his appointed place for the night. One is tardy and lingers on the outside until informed that the hour of closing has come. “Landlord I must have a glass of beer. I can’t sleep without it. Can’t you give me a receipt so I’ll not want it any more? I must have it or I’ll disturb the house.” 1 was satisfied of the truth of his statement and advised him to take his beer, which he did, went to his room, kept quiet till eleven o’clock, next day, when he came down, looked at the clock, and then at the register, and was asked if he -wished a meal, said he would wait till dinner, walked quietly out and was seen no more. Educated, refined, courteous, how I longed for a receipt that would meet his demand. But, alas, no receipt will, in my opinion, meet that case, and yet by my office window may be heard the tramp, tramp, tramp of boys marching down to the door, through which this man entered, to receive their harvest

of hell.

THOMAS CODY.