Rensselaer Republican, Volume 21, Number 13, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 29 November 1888 — TWO THANKSGIVINGS. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

TWO THANKSGIVINGS.

T in my belief, founded on a long and varied experience, that a man should never give money to a beggar. As a principle, tho - practice of indiscriminate almsgiving is subversive of truo philanthropy. Of course there are exceptions to this rule, but in tho main I think, my

argument is sound. But T inn fully persuade! that if pressed to do so, .1 could not give good, sound reasons for my bolief, and I confess that I often violate nay creed. The fact is, that in tlu> discussion of great fundamental ideas like those of religion or sociology, I find them to bo like a creek in the mountains. Follow the creek up, and you will find innumerable brooks babbling into it froinimniulorablo hollows between the hills. F.aili brook is filled with llio sparkling product of Cod’s distillery, each rivulet adds something to the volume of water in the creek flowing onward to tliesca. But I have not the time nor tho genius to explore all these streams of thought to their source, nnd so 1 tako the sunshine as ho sends it, tho water as ho brews it, the laughter and the tears as they are cooked at his good pleasure. And sometimes—very often, in fact—Blind myself violating tho conclusions of cold ethics and giving money to a beggar. This much before 1 tell my story. is , * » The incident here re corded occurred on a Thanksgiving Day not many years ago. T’was a cold November day m Battery park, Now York. Tho sun shone feebly from behind a bank of clouds,., yet tlio color to tho cheeks and brightness to tho eyes of some twenty idlers seated upon the benches. Most of the persons in the park wero apparently of foreign extraction. A tittle Froachihsn, wrapped in a cloak and who took frequent pfilches 1 of snuff, formed a striking contrast to a brawny ’longshoreman in a blue blouse and overalls. Another picturesque group was formed of a Bulgarian mother with her three children, aliens vVho looked upon the ovidences of a new civilization with fear and distrust. Tho rest of the occupants of tho park wero bits of flotsam and jot sum of humanity common in every large seaport town. Tho day of Thanksgiving was unknown to them. For the most part they were drinking of the lees of life and had nothing to be thankful for except tho material fact of a cheerless existence. Whilo - watching this drift from alien shores and wondering vaguely what wero the actual conditions surrounding those heroes, my attention was drawn to the shambling figure of a man coming up one of the aisles of tho park. The sun came out for a minute and madeyhim distinctly visible in all his abjectness.' For lio was tho most wretched looking man I had ever seen. His derby bat was brimless, his once blue blouse had lost all of its orig-

iiial color, and his -trousers bring about Ills emaciated legs like a stocking; about a pipo stem. Upon his sallow face was four weeks* growth of stubby blork heard. Ills face was dark and Ills eyes hid that pale, sickly gleam sometimes seen under the dry liusk of an onion. 110 walked with a stow, shambling, uncertain step, and his shoulders drooped as though he was all gone inside and every minute he esyerteil to collapse. The vow abject-

Hess of hla condition fascinated me, and while still loathing him I watched his approach With interest. As he came np to mo Ije seized tho elbow of his left arm by putting his right hand behind his back. In this curions attitude he spoke: 1 ‘‘Would you give mo one cent, sir?” This ho said in a voico which seemed to, come out of tho very sub cellar ],of despair, so monotonous was it, so utterly bereft of the ring of hope. “No, sir,” 1 replied, “I could not.” “Ho made no reply in words, but his elbows lifted slightly and his long finger naijs, Which wore mourning for departed cleanliness, sunk into the palms of Ida. hands. Like a .man who, felt that death was stepping on his keels, lie turned away. There were a dozen other men seated in Battery park, and to each one of these ho in turn put the same question that ho had td me. lie met the samo reply each time, for as he turned away I could see tho sharp elbows lift with a despairing gesture and tho sallow face harden into corrugated lines. Ono man, who looked jolly and well fed, perpetrated a ghastly joke by putting his hand in his trousers pocket when tho „ mendicant asked him the fatal question and producing a paper of tobacco. Theil Mr. Jolly read Mr. Misery a little homily on the injustice of poverty, and over Misery’s face there spread a shadow of a grin, and such a grin as may be seen on the face of a mummy. It was if ho had said: “Did starvation ever roost in your stomach for three days?” “Will he jump off the dock now?” I wondered to myself. No. Ho is actually ‘ ‘ bracing” a park policeman. The gray coat simply waved him away with his club. Then, with a courage born of his awful need, he tackled two officers at the door of the barge office, but without success. lie stood upon the sidewalk and passed his hand wearily across his forehead, as if he was awakening from a dream. A feeling of curiosity had prompted me to follow him. “Does he need whisky or bread?" I thought. 1 determined to find out, and so I beckoned him into a dark corner around the barge office. The fires of hope must have been enkindled in him, for two tears rolled out of his eyes and I fancied I could hear them fall spat! spat! upon tho stones. “Are you hungry?” said I. “I didn’t eat anything in three days,” he replied “Are you dry?” “No, sir; there’s water in the park.” “Is your favorite restaurant near by?” “Yes, sir. Up in Greenwich street.” “Well, come along.” « And as we went toward his restaurant I pumped him by tho way. ’Twas a long and sorrowful story 1 he told. His name was George Moore, and lie was a Cornish miner. • ft “Times was better, Bkv ” said ho, “when I came to this country eight* year ago. Yo see, I heard there was money io be made in the coal mines of Pennsylvania, an’, like a fule, I came here. There was throe of us—Nellie and tho baby and iny.solf. Dear heart, when I think of how niy Nellie looked when we landed at .Castle Garden eight years ago, with the roses in her cheeks and the light in her brown eyes, and sho so hopeful, sir, that we would make a small fortune in a few years” Here he paused as if to choke back the emotions which were sweeping over him like n flood. Then he continued: “Just eight years ago today ’twas, sir. I had dollars in my pocket then. Good, hard English pounds, and tho smell of roasting tuskey as .we went by the restaurants didn’t have the effect upon mo then that it has today, sir. Well, we went to Shamokin, in Pennsylvania. I had no difficulty in" getting work, and we were getting along nicely when I was taken sick. Then all the money’melted away like hoar Trust. The sickness lasted six months, and because of poor food aud weakness tlio baby died. After that things went on from bad to worse, until Nellie sickened with the consumption. Then I cursed tho country and the mines. But it did no good, for my wife went like the baby, and since slip’s gone, sir, I'm all broke up.”

Hero ho stopped, and it seemed to me that ho. gathered his failing powers together, as if he were about to give expression to a great thought. Then ho blurted out: “An* she were a good woman, sir, an’ I loved her!'* v “And what have you been doing since her death?" said I. “Oh, just knockin' around doin’ an odd job hero an’ there—starvin’ mostly. Part of tho time on the island for vagrancy.' In tho winter time sleepiu* in tho police stations an’ in tho summer ou tho docks. I’ve a rich relative iu Michigan, a mine owner.’ l •* “Why don’t you apply to him for assis tancc?” sakl I. --~ “Bocauso.jJ'd die aforo he’d know the shape I'm in.” *’ By this time we had reached tho door of one of those modest and unconventional eating houses where tho menu is paiuted oil a -board and set outside the door. Wo entered and he sat down at a table. Ills unexpected good fortune had paralyzed him, and tho prospect of a square meal had robbed him of speech. When the frowsy waiter asked him what ha-would have ho couldn’t reply, but sat gazing at tho waiter dumbly as a sheep might look ,ut its executioners. Then I ordered for him a big dish of vegetable soup. When it was placed before him, with islands of potatoes, carrots and cabbage floating iu it. the savory steam arose and dilated lils nostrihj and a wolfish glare came into his onion colored eyes. So famished was ho that, there being no fepoon •iiandy, ho seized a knife and plunged it into the mess, and While he ate there seemed to bo a lump in his throat which prevented his swallowing. While he was trasy with this dish I ordered a big plate of roast beef, and the waiter brought two'cuts which looked as if they had been taken from the forehead of tho critter; This was flanked by a dish of mealy potatoes, bursting their

brown Jackets, and a bowl o| coffee almost big enough to take a bath in. As Misery gazed upon this, feast, which ia his estimation was plenty good enough for the gods who sat upon Mount Olympus, his eyes filled again and this time the tears fclL When I asked for tho bill the proprietor handed me a cheek for the jnunjficent sum of 20 cents, which I discovered was scheduled rates. * * t “Well, old fellow, I must go,” said I, after settling the bill, as I reached out my hand for a parting shake He reached out a grimy fist, and when it left mine there was a silver quarter in his.palm. Ho Was just about pay ing his respects to tlio roast beef, but this princely gift choked him up so. that he laid bis head upon the arm of the once blue blouse. I could see bis stoop shoulders heave, and, although there was no sound, there were plenty of signsrof an internal commotion, " ’ * -ft ft On Thanksgiving day, a year later, I was seated at a table" In. a” Fourteenth Street restaurant. Opposite to me, at tho same.table, sat a respectable looking man . of about 40 years. He- wore a neat suit of cassimero and was clean and wholesome in appearance. , I noticed during tho course of tho meal that he watched me very closely, and just as I rose to leave the restaurant ho touched me on tho shoulder and*said: “Excuse me, sir, but didn't I have the

pleasure of meeting you. before?” “That may be-,” I replied, “but, if so I have forgot- . ten it.” “Do you remember meeting a tramp last Thanksgiving day hi Battery Park?” . suici he.

“1 do, blit—ay by', you cannot possibly bo that man!” “But I am that very chap, and that square meal you gavo me, besides the silver quarter, put‘now courage into me and I began to pluck up heart. And now I am a clerk in a grocery store and earning ft 10 a week. My luck turned on that silver quarter. I had to part with it once for a bod, but I persuaded the hotel keeper to keep it until i Could redeem it. ” lie put his hand in his pocket and drew the silver piece. It was pocket worn, but had the ring of the true silver init. “God bless you,” said the rejuvenated tramp as wo stepped out upon the sidewalk, placing his hands on my shoulders. His features worked convulsively as ho continued: “When I resolved to take a new grip /■- and was hunting around I \ fora job. I used to sit iu i the I ,ar - i knd Crop the jf’ | «\ silver quarter upontho ■''T f pavement, aud the Jr fl 9 \ ring it gave out . ''T i| « -I—N. reminded me of cs ti,e ci,apei btu

at home and of Nellie and the baby. Even now, comfortably situated as I am, I often take out the quarter and jingle it. The sound is always comforting, and so I find that Thanksgiving Day is not confined to the last Thursday iu November.” Still this giving money to a beggar is a bad practice. Ernest Jalip.old.

“WOULD YOU GIVE ME ONE CENT, Sin?”

I COULD SEE HIS STOOP SHOULERS HEAVE.

‘I OFTEN TAKE OUT THE QIARTER AND KING;E OT.”