Rensselaer Republican, Volume 14, Number 7, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 3 November 1881 — A Classic Drunkard. [ARTICLE]

A Classic Drunkard.

If the Proyidence Journal states the fact correctly, the barkeeper was about tu close up. He lad said so several times,and had nut out all tbelights but on* The old fixtures had shook the -sawdust from tbeir feet and reluctantly directed tbeir footsteps homeward. Only a stranger appeared, a dark, saddened man, who sat demurely on a stool uuLkept his thumbs revolving arouncr each other like white mice turning In a wheel. When lhe coast was clear he stepped up to ihp bar and said sofipy: "May I whisper * word In your ear? ’ " * J ‘"You ttay, mister, if lyou will be quick about it,” replied thedrkiK-mak-tr, with his hand on the lamp screw. "I want you to fill me a flask of your beit whisky for family sickness,” said 1 Inks! tap ger, drawing <>ut an ancient twenty fathpmfl of leather string wound around it/Mk well-worn wallet that looked as if Ml tbeXaves and billows of bad luck bad beat upon iU atuLgope over it and through it, I/.plflMlened it and Washed It out The barman filled him up a pint, l.ahDVed down the edrk until it squeakFed, Wiped the bottle dry Mid sat it upon the counted. f * I "The autumnal air is getting a trifle I jartish, J, i soliloquized the stranger. | ouM you have any objections to my a little liver padfler from my

He tilled the tumbler quite full, took it as he did paregoric in the days of his Infancy, and then remarked: "Perhaps, on the whole, as the night has far waned, and my family are on their spiral springs and in their trundles, you had better put my bottle away on the upper shelf, and when PlMSbta Apollo fcgijw to center his golden prancers along the avenues of the purpling east, I will call for it, and you may then assess me the appropri atffamount of ducats.” The barkeeper sprang over the bar and began to kick him, "What!” be said sweetly, "you kick me after I have drank? Don’t you know better than that? Kick me with beta feet—l cannot feel you even then. Before I took that glass, if you had I bdtahoek your flat at me you would [ have wounded me—hurt me; but now GfoodqgdghL”* £ lie stood on *e ddpkstA -“I flee by the shadow on th* sidewalk that you have kicked me agaiu4- You should remember, my irtMcible pnUieam what the dear old poet said: ’Fate cannot harm n.e now, | I have dined to-day. : Bo say J. I | bars finnik to-night. Good-night, | taverner) How much the sparkling I flrmauient looks like a far-off city, lit Ihp for a festal night! Farewell! I shall Thee you later. *