Judge — August 27, 1921 — page 18: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Everything Comes—Sometimes in Bunches By Harry Irvinc SHUMWAY BEGGAR sat by the dusty A roadside. He had been sit- ting there for years, as many who passed by could truthfully vouch. The sun was his hearth, the sky his roof, the soft grass his couch. If it rained—oh, well! The rich man stopped one after- noon and leaned from his car. His hard bright eyes seemed to bore the beggar through. “You lazy lout,” he said. “I have seen you loafing here for the last ten years, and never once have I observed you make any movement remotely suggestive of work. Of what good are you to the world?” The beggar smiled lazily and showed two rows of perfect teeth. “I am no good to the world,” he said mildly. “But on the other hand the world is of great value to me. I love it, every atom of it. I think I am one of the very few who really appreciate it. Indeed, I call myself a world lover.” “You don’t deserve a cent,” snapped the wealthy one. Drawn by NoRMAN ANTHONY. “Lord bless you, I don’t want one!” laughed the beggar. “I have no need of a cent, or a dollar, for that mat- ter.” The rich man-went on: “You had the same chance that I had. We started equals. Look at us. I have a mansion, servants, money, everything. You sit there and have nothing.” The beggar grinned. “My good man,” he mocked. “I haven’t moved since the year of the big wind. And what is more, I’m not going to stir until the next one.” The wealthy one drove on with a snort of contempt. That very afternoon a terrible cyclone swept over the land, uproot- ing many great objects and blowing them hither and thither like bits of paper. The beggar slept peacefully through it all, amply protected by a sand bank. Suddenly a gust more terrible than before seemed to shake the earth. An entire house hurtled through the air and came to a rest where the Man (writing wife in country)—“AM KEEPING THE HOUSE JUST AS NEAT AS YOU LEFT IT. P.S. AM STAYING AT THIS HOTEL.” beggar, but a moment before, had been sleeping. The beggar rubbed his eyes and looked about in wonder. What a magnificent interior! Surely this mansion that had blown in on him must have been the home of some mil- lionaire. Exquisite paintings were on the walls; the walls themselves were covered with tapestries, and silk hangings were at the windows. Evi- dently it was the dining-room of the house, as part of the floor remained and in one corner stood a well- equipped sideboard. Above the beggar’s head a heavy silken cord dangled. He reached up and pulled it. A bell sounded somewhere, and soon a man, pale, battered and shaken up, answered it. He gazed at the beggar sitting there, but said noth- ing. With a look of perfect ease and quiet command on his face, the beggar spoke: “You may serve dinner now,” he said. “Very good, sir,” replied the man.