One of the most pathetic things in life is seen sometimes
in country towns in the mountain regions of these United
States--may be in some farming regions, too.
The scene is laid in a country store of a Saturday night. The
busy salesmen were waiting on many customers--customers who buy
vast quantities of calico and chewing-tobacco and Scotch snuff
and plowgear, and always on credit.
Pretty much everybody from all about is in town. The elders have
brought the youngsters, and these sturdy infants stare with wide
eyes at everything.
But in this busy gathering, far back in the corner, a man from
the country is talking earnestly to one of the partners. The
partner wears a heavy gold chain across his vest, and is in his
shirt sleeves. He shakes his head, whittling, meanwhile, a bit
of box.
This man’s credit has run out. He is trying to persuade the
merchant to carry him a little longer--just a little longer, but
the merchant doesn’t see it that way. He wants money.
He goes to his book and calls the man from the country and shows
him the things written there. Then he leans back and lights a
fat cigar triumphantly.
The would-be customer makes one more effort and turns sadly
away. He takes two children with him, one by each hand, and
slowly goes out.
“Ain’t we goin’ to buy nothin’?” asks one of them. A spasm of
pain shoots across the father’s face.
“Not jest now, boy,” he says; “after a bit--just you wait.
There’ll be lots of boots’ boy size left--lots of ’em.”--Dallas
_News_.
(2171)
=Need, The World’s=--See MANLINESS.