LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XX, Issue 1622, 2 May 1879, Page 3

LITERATURE.

A J. B OF WORK

" Weekly Alta," California.

1 Nothing to do, eh V said uncle Sassafras. ' Nothing!' emphatically responded his nephew, who was six feet high, with a pnir of laughing black eyes, a moustache like jet floss silk, and a rich brown complexion like a Spaniard. Uncle Sextus Sassafras sat in his snug counting-house, with a grate fire biasing behind its polished fenders, a green baize cover on the table, and a pile of ponderous day-books and ledgers before him—a hard faced, steel-trapped-mouthed, iron-jawed old sexagenarian. Harry Flume stood opposite, olive cheeked and handsome, with folded arms and a curious expression of doubt on his countenance, as though he hardly knew whether he was to be taken into partnership, or kicked unceremoniously out of doors. ' Have you tried that place in Octagon Square V Harry Plume nodded. ' They've six clerks there more than they need already,' said he. • Have you advertised V 1 For a fortnight, sir, steadily.' ' And with no reply V ' None, except from a lottery-ticket agency, and the representative of a matrimonial bureau.' 4 Humph 1' growled uncle Sextus — ' humph ? And what, may I ask, do you come here for?' ' To ask your advice, sir,' Harry valiantly answered. ' Do you really wish to hear it ?' ' Of course I do. sir. ' Then here it is,' said uncle Sextus, suddenly wheeling round on his revolving chair. ' Go to work I' ' Where, uncle Sassafras!' ' Here —in the country—anywhere !'roared the crusty old commission merchant. ' There's no lack of employment for an ablebodied man, who is willing to work I* ' Well, sir,' persisted Harry Plume, ' I answer to both these descriptions, and I can't get anything to do.' ' Go on a farm.' ' The farmers have all shut down on work, sir, since the frost came.' ' Go West.' ' There's nothing to do, sir, after I get there.' ' I see,' said uncle Sassafras —' I see 1 You're lazy—that's what ails you, young man, You don't want to work. If you did, you'd be willing to tend furnaces, drive horses, carry in coal, do anything that was decent and creditable. By Jove, sir, when I was your ago. I dug dirt at 25 cents a day and my board.' ' Well, uncle Sextus,' said the young man, resignedly, ' what am I to do ?' 1 Beg I' thundered Mr Sassafras—' steal 1 starve ! What you please I' ' But, seriously speaking, sir,' said Harry, ' I don't fancy any of the three vocations that you are good enough to mention; and—'

1 Hopkins!' shouted Mr Sassafras to his clerk in the adjoinirjg office ; bring in those account-books.'

And Hopkins, answering 'Yes, sir,' speedily made his appearance behind a pile of leather-bound folios—a hint to Harry Plume to wish his uncle good morning. ' Lazy young dog I' muttered Mr Sextus Sassafras to him ; ' he don't want to work that's what is the trouble with him. He'd like to live genteelly off me. But I've an opinion of my own <n the subject.' While Harry Plume, sauntering slowly out of the dark little office that overhung the river shores, and smelt vaguely of cinnamon, pepper, and spices-intho bulk, took his purse from his pocket and gravely inspected its contents. 'As empty as Mother Hubbard's cupboard,' wflshis solemn comment, 'something hRH got to be done, unless I go back to traditions of old times, and tu n highway robber. I'll ride into town. No, I won't either—l've no money to pay my fare with,' grimacing slightly. " I'll walk up town, and take another look into these confounded Employment Bureaus. Perhaps I may get a place as butler, valet do cbambre, or even dish washer in a restaurant, if they'll i ridertake not to make me responsible for the china I brrak.' But as Harry Plume passed a pretty little red brick house, on the debatable limits where the fashionable residences taper oil

i r -fc > dentists' offices, bOar<fi g-limiHe", ad insur efctabluhruents, he paused and Hftrd bis cap to a pretty girl on the steps. ' May I ak why. like "sister Anne" in the story of '■ Bluebeard," you are on the outlook?' said Mr Plnme, courteously. ' I was looking for a man to carry in our coal' said the pretty young girl, with a deprecating glance towards the huge heap of bituminous deposit on the oavement. ' How much do you give? said Mr Plume. ' Seventy-five cents,' said Miss Barbara Felton. ' But there's a load of kindling Wood to split in the cellar, and that will be fifty cents more. Peilups you know some one who——'

' <;h, yes, I know some one,' our hero made haste ta reply. ' Seventy-five and fifty make a dollar and a quarter—not * bad day's wages for an industrious tramp. I'll tak<> the job myself, Miss Feiton.' ' Mr Plume I'

' Bring on your basket and shovel,' said our hero ; ' and be so good, Miss Felton, as to excuse the removal of my coat. It's woik or starve with me, and I prefer work.' • But you are a genii man 1' ' No, I'm not, Miss Barbara,' gravely asserted our hero, ' I'm a working man.' And he went vigorously to work at the job, while Httle Barbara, and her handsome elder sister Juanita, regarded him furtively from behind the front parlor blinds. ' H 'b in jest I' said Juanita. • No,'Nita, he's not,' said Barbara. 'He said it was either work or starve with him.' 'Then, depend upon it,' said the lovely Juanita, with a long breath, ' his uncle has disinherited him 1' ' Poor fellow 1' sighed soft-hearted Barbara. 'Juanita f' ' Well V ' Aren't you going to speak to him V 'II' cried Miss Juanita. 'So a—coalcarrier?' And she drew disdainfully back, with a toss of her regal head. ' Oh, dear 1' said little Barbara beginning to cry, ' I do feel bo sorry for him I' And Mr Plume who, from his station below had heard every word cf the. dialogue, smiled to himself under the shadow Of his felt hat. 'Upon the whole,* thought Mr Plume, shovelling away, ' This is rather good fun Better th«n gymnastics—more particularly where there's a sense of honest labor about it. Juanita despises me • but little Barbara —God blercs her sweet soul for those tears ! If I should msks tip my mind to go West and take up a Gove nme t grant of land, I'll ask her to go with me. 1 think she would rather distinguish herself in the butter and cheese department.' Just at that moment a bluff voice bawled out at him, from th<s sain lired tepths of a pietty li'tle myrtle-green coupe which was rolling past ; ' tfarry I Hello, Harry! I say !' ' It's my uncle Sassafras, by all the fates and furies!' reflected Harry Plume, as he leaned on his shovel, and lifted his hat with easy grace to the wrinkled old face, which appeared as if it were framed in the carriage win'ow. ' What on earth are you doirg V bellowed Mr Sassafras, putting up his eye-glases. ' Shoveling in coal, sir,' said Harry, ' at seventy five C'ntsaload, with the prospect of fifty cents' worth of kindling wood to follow.' 'Young man I' thundered the elder, 'are you jesting with me V ' Never was more earnest in my life, eir,' said Hairy, digging the blade of his shovel deep into the heap of magnified jets below, ' Get in here !' said uncle Sassafras, opening the coupe door. ' And leave my job of work balf done! exclaimed Harry, elevating his eyebrows. ' That wouldn't be business-like at all, Excuse me, uncle Sextus, but what I have begun I must finish.' ' Good !' grunted the old man, with a queer contraction of the features, which answered, in his case, for a emile. 'Then come up to the house and dine with me when you're through.' ' I wid be most happy,' said Mr Plume, blandly. And off he walked, with a banket of coal balanced neatly on his left shoulder. 'By j ive (' said uncle Sassafras, as he pulled the strap from his bewildered coachman to drive on, ' the boy has got more pluck in him than I thought.' When the coal was safely packed in, and the kindling-wood neatly split and piled Henry Plume made his appearance at the front door, touching his hat. Little Barbara had three silver pieces ready for him, in a piece of paper. ' Won't you come in and take lunch with us ?' Lltered Barbara, ' You look so tired;' 'I am tired,' concluded our hero. ' You see it's a new business to me, Miss Felton ; but I'm engaged to dine with my uncle. Thanks.' ' That doesn't look as if he was disinherited by the old gentleman,' said Juauita, with knitted brows. ' Oh, dear, I don't know what he thinks of it 1 I almost wish I had spoken to him, after all.' ' Young man,' said Mr Sassafras, when his nephew came into the ruby curtained dining-room, where the port wine gleamed like melted garnets, and the white grapes and walnuts piled picturesquely on silver plates, ' you've taken my advice on going to work.' ' Yes, sir,' said Mr Plume ; ' I've taken your advice.' ' Take it again,' said uncle! Sassafras, ' Leave off work.' ' Sir ?' said Harry, in surprise. ' You've shown that you are made of something besides Bhirt- studs and starch,' nodded Mr Sassafras. 'I approve of your conduct, young man. Come to my office to-morrow morning. I'll see that a desk and plenty of work are provided for you there. And if you suit me—' ' Well, sir V ' I'll make you my heir.' And Mrs Harry Plume—her maiden name was Barbara Felton—rides in the satin-lined coupe now, and wears diamonds that make her sister Juanita grow pale with envy. ' And all our good fortune,' said Barbara, ' was buried under the load of coal I'