THE SORROWFUL MAN FROM COLUMBUS.

Temuka Leader, Issue 325, 4 December 1880, Page 2

THE SORROWFUL MAN FROM COLUMBUS.

At the Union depot, the other morning, officer Button observed a tall, longlegged stranger, who seemed to be 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 campt 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 specialty of singing Gospel hymns, is there I” “ Don’t know of anybody. Has your wife run away !”

“No? I never hadone.’ “ Lost your wallet.” “No ; I never carry a wallet.” “ Anybody abused you ?” “No ; every one is kind to me.” “ Then why thsi sorrow and these tears ? Strong men do not weep without strong cause.” “ I weep—l weep because the world is CO Id —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 “ 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 I can sit and cry ?” “ Say, old man, what’s your lay ?” asked the officer, after looking him over. “My lay is weeping. lam the sorrowful man from Columbus.” “ That’s too thin. What’s the particular racket this morning ?” “ Won’t you give me away ?” 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’nr weeping for. his benefit. He 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 along to Detroit. I ivw weep that I may see Toledo, and 1 shall depend upon emotion to scoot me through to Columbus in good style. 1 will now edge along towards the conductor and give way to an extra burst of 1 mingled grief and contrition . Ta—ta, old bluecoat —don’t give away a man who could’nt raise a nickel if his eyes should give out to-morrow.” —Detroit Free Press.