THE SORROWFUL MAN FROM COLUMBUS.

South Canterbury Times, Issue 2396, 20 November 1880, Page 4

THE SORROWFUL MAN FROM COLUMBUS.

At the Union depot, the other morning, officer Button observed a tall, longlegged stranger, who seemed to ue clothed mostly in a linen duster, wipe his eyes and blow his nose like one suffering mental distress, and he approached and asked the cause. “ Oh, lots of things,” replied the man as he shook out his handkerchief. “Is there a camp meeting anywhere around here ?” “ Not that I know of.” “And they don’t have any prayermeetings here in the daytime ?” “ No.” “ There isn’t anybody around the depot who makes a speciality of singing Gospel hymns, is there ?” “ Don’t know of anybody. Has your wife run away ?” “ No ; I never had one.” “ Lost your wallet ?” “ No ; I never carry a wallet.” “ Anybody abused you ?” “No ; everybody is kind to me.” “ Then why this sorrow and these tears ? Strong men do not weep without strong cause.” “ I weep—l weep because the world is cold—'because it is wicked because human nature has become suspicious. I weep because another sun has risen on the evil passions of men.” “ Are you naturally sorrowful ?” “ I am. I sometimes wish I wasn’t that way. How long before the Lake Shore train goes ?" “ About twelve minutes.” “ Then I will spend eleven minutes in further weeping. Have you a private room in which 1 can sit and cry V” “ Say, old man, what’s your lay ? ” asked the officer, after looking him over. “My la}’ is weeping. I am the sorrowful man from Columbus.” “ That’s too thin. What’s the particular racket this morning ? ” “Won’t you give me aw ay ?” asked the man, after a fresh dig at his eyes, “ No.” “ I’m dead broke and I want to get to Toledo. The conductor who goes out on this train stands over there, and I’m weeping for his benefit, lie has already remarked my grief and he wonders what ails me. When he asks for my ticket I’ll either be a missionary who weeps over the avarice of railroad corporations and appeal to his charity, or a country parson who lost his money on the confidence game. Now let me weep some more.” He wept some more, and then said — “ It’s the best lay in the world. It’s a hundred times ahead of cheek or riding on the springs, and it costs me nothing, and is always ready. I cried my way from Columbus to Indianapolis, wept from there to Chicago, and then sobbed myself to Detroit. I now weep that I may see Toledo, and I shall depend upon emotion to scoot me through to Columbus in good style. I will now edge along towards the conductor and give way to an extra burst of mingled grief and contrition. Ta-ta, old blue coat —don’t give away a man who couldn’t raise a nickle if his eyes should give out to morrow.” —“ Detroit Free Press.”