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004 - Bulgers Friend · O. Henryana

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  Speaker 1: Section four of O. Henryanna by O. Henry. This libribox
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  Speaker 1: recording is in the public domain recording by Phil schamf
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  Speaker 1: Bulger's Friend. It was rare sport for a certain element
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  Speaker 1: in the town when Old Bulger joined the Salvation Army.
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  Speaker 1: Bulger was the town's odd character, a shiftless, eccentric old man,
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  Speaker 1: and a natural foe to social conventions. He lived on
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  Speaker 1: the bank of a brook that bisected the town, in
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  Speaker 1: a wonderful hut of his own, contriving made of scrap lumber,
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  Speaker 1: clap boards, pieces of tin, canvas, and corrugated iron. The
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  Speaker 1: most adventurous boys circled Bulger's resident at a respectful distance.
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  Speaker 1: He was intolerant of visitors and repelled the curious with
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  Speaker 1: belligerent and gruff in hospitality. In return, the report was
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  Speaker 1: current that he was of unsound mind, something of a
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  Speaker 1: wizard and a miser, with a vast amount of gold
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  Speaker 1: buried in or near his hut. The old man worked
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  Speaker 1: at odd jobs such as weeding gardens and whitewashing, and
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  Speaker 1: he collected old bones, scrap metal, and bottles from alleys
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  Speaker 1: and yards. One rainy night, when the Salvation Army was
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  Speaker 1: holding a slenderly attended meeting in its hall, Bulger had
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  Speaker 1: appeared and asked permission to join the ranks. The sergeant
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  Speaker 1: in command of the post welcomed the old man with
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  Speaker 1: that cheerful lack of prejudice that distinguishes the peaceful militants
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  Speaker 1: of his order. Bulger was at once assigned to the
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  Speaker 1: position of base drummer. To his evident, although grimly expressed joy.
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  Speaker 1: Possibly the sergeant, who had the success of his command
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  Speaker 1: at heart, perceived that it would be no mean token
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  Speaker 1: of successful warfare to have the new recruit thus prominently displayed,
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  Speaker 1: representing as he did, if not a brand from the burning,
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  Speaker 1: at least a well charred and sap dried chunk. So
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  Speaker 1: every night, when the army marched from its quarters to
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  Speaker 1: the street corner where open air services were held, Bulger
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  Speaker 1: stumbled along with his bass drum, behind the sergeant and
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  Speaker 1: the corporal who played sweet by and By and only
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  Speaker 1: an armor bearer in unison upon their cornets. And never
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  Speaker 1: before in that town was beast drum so soundly whacked.
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  Speaker 1: Bulger managed to keep time with the cornets upon his instrument,
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  Speaker 1: but his feet were always woefully unrhythmic. He shuffled and staggered,
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  Speaker 1: and rocked from side to side like a bear. Truly,
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  Speaker 1: he was not pleasing to the sight. He was a bent,
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  Speaker 1: ungainly old man with a face screwed to one side
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  Speaker 1: and wrinkled like a dry prune. The red shirt, which
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  Speaker 1: proclaimed his enlistment into the ranks, was a misfit, being
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  Speaker 1: the outer husk of a Leviathan corporal who had died
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  Speaker 1: some time before. This garment hung upon Bulger and folds.
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  Speaker 1: His old brown cap was always pulled down over one eye.
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  Speaker 1: These and his wobbling gait gave him the appearance of
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  Speaker 1: some great Simian, captured and imperfectly educated in pedestrian and
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  Speaker 1: musical maneuvers. The thoughtless boys and undeveloped men who gathered
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  Speaker 1: about the street services of the army badgered Bulger incessantly.
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  Speaker 1: They called upon him to give oral testimony to his conversion,
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  Speaker 1: and criticized the technique and style of his drum performance.
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  Speaker 1: But the old man paid no attention whatever to their jeers.
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  Speaker 1: He rarely spoke to any one, except when on coming
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  Speaker 1: and going he gruffly saluted his comrades. The sergeant had
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  Speaker 1: met many odd characters and knew how to study them.
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  Speaker 1: He allowed the recruit to have his own silent way
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  Speaker 1: for a time. Every evening Bulger appeared at the hall,
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  Speaker 1: marched up the street with the squad and back again.
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  Speaker 1: Then he would place his drum in the corner where
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  Speaker 1: it belonged, and sit upon the last bench in the
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  Speaker 1: rear until the hall meeting was concluded. But one night
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  Speaker 1: the sergeant followed the old man outside and laid his
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  Speaker 1: hand upon his shoulder. Comrade, he said, is it well
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  Speaker 1: with you? Not yet, sergeant, said Bulger, I'm only tryin.
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  Speaker 1: I'm glad you come outside. I've been wantin to ask you.
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  Speaker 1: Do you believe the Lord would take a man in
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  Speaker 1: if he come to him late, like kind of a
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  Speaker 1: last resort, you know, say, a man who'd lost everything
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  Speaker 1: home and property and friends and health. Wouldn't it look
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  Speaker 1: mean to wait till then and try to come bless
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  Speaker 1: his name? No, said the sergeant. Come, ye, that are
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  Speaker 1: heavy laden, That's what he says. The poor, the more miserable,
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  Speaker 1: the more unfortunate, the greater his love and forgiveness. Yes,
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  Speaker 1: I'm poor, said Bulger, awful, poor and miserable. You know
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  Speaker 1: when I can think best, Sergeant, It's when I'm beatin
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  Speaker 1: the drum. Other times there's a kind of muddled roaring
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  Speaker 1: in my head. The drum seems to kind of soothe
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  Speaker 1: and calm it. There's a thing I'm trying to study out,
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  Speaker 1: but I ain't made it yet. Do you pray, comrade,
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  Speaker 1: asked the surgeon. No, I don't, said Bulger. WoT it
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  Speaker 1: be the use? I know where the hitch is, don't
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  Speaker 1: it say? Somewhere for a man to give up his
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  Speaker 1: own family or friends and serve the Lord if they
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  Speaker 1: stand in his way, not otherwise. I've got no family,
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  Speaker 1: continued the old man, nor no friends but one, and
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  Speaker 1: that one is what's driven me to ruin. Free yourself,
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  Speaker 1: cried the surgeon. He's no friend but an enemy who
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  Speaker 1: stands between you and salvation. No, answered Bulger emphatically, no enemy.
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  Speaker 1: The best friend I ever had. But you say he's
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  Speaker 1: driven you to ruin, The old man chuckled dryly. And
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  Speaker 1: keeps me in rags and livin on scraps and sleep
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  Speaker 1: like a dog in a patched up kennel, And yet
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  Speaker 1: I never had a better friend. You don't understand, Sergeant.
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  Speaker 1: You lose all your friends but the best one, and
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  Speaker 1: then you'll know how to hold on to the last one.
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  Speaker 1: Do you drink, comrade, asked the surgeon. Not a drop
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  Speaker 1: in twenty years, Bulger replied. The sergeant was puzzled. If
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  Speaker 1: this friend stands between you and your soul's peace, give
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  Speaker 1: him up, was all he could find to say. I
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  Speaker 1: can't now, said the old man, dropping into a fretful wine.
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  Speaker 1: But you just let me keep on beating the drum, Sergeant,
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  Speaker 1: and maybe I will some time. I'm a tryin. Sometimes
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  Speaker 1: it comes so near thinkin it out that a dozen
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  Speaker 1: more licks on the drum would settle it. I get
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  Speaker 1: mighty nigh to the point, and then I have to quit.
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  Speaker 1: You'll give me more time, won't you, Sergeant? All you want?
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  Speaker 1: And God bless you, comrade, pound away until you hit
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  Speaker 1: the right note. Afterward, the sergeant would often call the
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  Speaker 1: Bulger time, comrade, knock that friend of yours out, Yet
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  Speaker 1: the answer was always unsatisfactory. One night, at a street corner,
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  Speaker 1: the sergeant prayed loudly that a certain struggling comrade might
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  Speaker 1: be parted from an enemy who was leading him astray
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  Speaker 1: under the guise of friendship. Bulger, in sudden and plainly
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  Speaker 1: evident alarm, immediately turned his drum over to a fellow
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  Speaker 1: volunteer and shuffled rapidly away down the street. The next
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  Speaker 1: night he was back again at his post without any
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  Speaker 1: explanation of his strange behavior. The sergeant wondered what it
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  Speaker 1: all meant, and took occasion to question the old man
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  Speaker 1: more closely as to the influence that was retarding the
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  Speaker 1: peace his soul seemed to crave, But Bulger carefully avoided particularizing.
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  Speaker 1: It's my own fight, he said, I've got to think
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  Speaker 1: it out myself. Nobody else don't understand. The winner of
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  Speaker 1: eighteen ninety two was a memorable one in the South.
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  Speaker 1: The cold was almost unprecedented, and the snow fell many
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  Speaker 1: inches deep where it had rarely whitened the ground before.
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  Speaker 1: Much suffering resulted among the poor who had not anticipated
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  Speaker 1: the rigorous season. A little squad of Salvationists found more
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  Speaker 1: distressed than they could relieve. Charity in that town. While
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  Speaker 1: swift and Liberal lacked organization, want in that balmy and
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  Speaker 1: productive climate existed only in sporadic cases, and these were
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  Speaker 1: nearly always quietly relieved by generous neighbors. But when some
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  Speaker 1: sudden disastrous onslaught of the elements storm, fire or flood occurred.
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  Speaker 1: The impoverished sufferers were often too slowly aided because system
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  Speaker 1: was lacking, and because charity was called upon too seldom
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  Speaker 1: to become a habit At such times, the Salvation Army
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  Speaker 1: was very useful. Its soldiers went down into alleys and
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  Speaker 1: byways to rescue those who, unused to extreme want, had
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  Speaker 1: never learned to beg At the end of three weeks
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  Speaker 1: of hard freezing, a level foot of snow fell, Hunger
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  Speaker 1: and cold struck the improvident, and a hundred women, children
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  Speaker 1: and old men were gathered into the army's quarters to
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  Speaker 1: be warmed and fed. Each day, the blue uniformed soldiers
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  Speaker 1: slipped in and out of the stores and offices of
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  Speaker 1: the town, gathering pennies and dimes and quarters to buy
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  Speaker 1: food for the starving, And in and out of private
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  Speaker 1: houses the Salvationists went with baskets of food and clothing,
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  Speaker 1: while day by day the mercury still crouched among the
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  Speaker 1: tens and twenties. Alas business that scapegoat was dull. The
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  Speaker 1: dimes and quarters came more reluctantly from tills that jingled
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  Speaker 1: not when they were opened. Yet in the big hall
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  Speaker 1: of the army. The stove was kept red hot, and
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  Speaker 1: upon the long table set in the rear could always
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  Speaker 1: be found at least coffee and bread and cheese. The
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  Speaker 1: sergeant and his squad fought valiantly. At last, the money
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  Speaker 1: on hand was all gone, and the daily collections were
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  Speaker 1: diminished to a variable sum inadequate to the needs of
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  Speaker 1: the dependence of the army. Christmas was near at hand.
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  Speaker 1: There were fifty children in the hall, and many more outside,
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  Speaker 1: to whom that season brought no joy beyond what was
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  Speaker 1: brought by the army. None of these little pensioners had
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  Speaker 1: thus far lacked necessary comforts, and they had already begun
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  Speaker 1: to chatter of the tree, that one bright vision in
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  Speaker 1: the sober monotony of the year. Never since the army
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  Speaker 1: first came had it failed to provide a tree and
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  Speaker 1: gifts for the children. The sergeant was troubled. He knew
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  Speaker 1: that an announcement of no tree would grieve the hearts
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  Speaker 1: under those thin cotton dresses and ragged jackets more than
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  Speaker 1: wood stress of storm or scanty diet. And yet there
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  Speaker 1: was not money enough to meet the daily demand ants
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  Speaker 1: for food and fuel. On the night of December the twentieth,
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  Speaker 1: the sergeant decided to announce that there could be no
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  Speaker 1: Christmas tree. It seemed unfair to allow the waxing anticipation
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  Speaker 1: of the children to reach too great a height. The
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  Speaker 1: evening was colder, and still the deep snow was made
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  Speaker 1: deeper by another heavy fall, swept upon the wings of
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  Speaker 1: a fierce and shrill voiced northern gale. The sergeant, with
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  Speaker 1: sodden boots and reddened countenance, entered the hall at nightfall
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  Speaker 1: and removed his threadbare overcoat. Soon afterward, the rest of
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  Speaker 1: the faithful squad drifted in, the women heavily shawled, the
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  Speaker 1: men stamping their snow crusted feet loudly upon the steep stairs.
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  Speaker 1: After the slender supper of cold meat, beans, bread and
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  Speaker 1: coffee had been finished, all joined in a short service
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  Speaker 1: of song and prayer, according to their daily habit. Far
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  Speaker 1: back in the shadow sat Bulger for weeks. His ears
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  Speaker 1: had been deprived of that aid to thought the booming
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  Speaker 1: of the big bass drum. His wrinkled face wore an
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  Speaker 1: expression of gloomy perplexity. The army had been too busy
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  Speaker 1: for the regular services and parades. The silent drum, the banners,
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  Speaker 1: and the cornets were stored in a little room at
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  Speaker 1: the top of the stairway. Bulger came to the hall
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  Speaker 1: every night and ate supper with the others. In such weather,
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  Speaker 1: work of the kind the old man usually did was
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  Speaker 1: not to be had, and he was bidden to share
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  Speaker 1: the benefits conferred upon the other unfortunates. He always left early,
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  Speaker 1: and it was surmised that he passed the nights in
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  Speaker 1: his patchwork hut, that structure, being waterproof and weather tight.
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  Speaker 1: Beyond the promise of its outward appearance. Of late, the
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  Speaker 1: sergeant had had no time to bestow upon the old man.
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  Speaker 1: At seven o'clock, the sergeant stood up and wrapped upon
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  Speaker 1: the table with a lump of coal. When the room
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  Speaker 1: became still, he began his talk that rambled off into
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  Speaker 1: a halting discourse, quite unlike his usual positive and direct speeches.
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  Speaker 1: The children had gathered about their friend in a ragged,
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  Speaker 1: wriggling and wide awake circle. Most of them had seen
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  Speaker 1: the fresh, ruddy countenance of his emerge at the twelve
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  Speaker 1: stroke of a night of splendor from the whiskered mask
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  Speaker 1: of a magnificent Santa Claus. They knew now that he
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  Speaker 1: was going to speak of the Christmas tree. They tiptoed
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  Speaker 1: and listened, Flushed with a hopeful and eager awe. The
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  Speaker 1: sergeants saw it, frowned and swallowed hard. Continuing, he planted
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  Speaker 1: the sting of disappointment in each expectant little bosom, and
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  Speaker 1: watched the light fade from their eyes. There was to
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  Speaker 1: be no tree. Renunciation was no new thing to them,
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  Speaker 1: They had been born to it. Still, a few little
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  Speaker 1: ones in whom hope died hard, sobbed aloud and wan.
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  Speaker 1: Wretched mothers tried to hush and console them. A kind
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  Speaker 1: of voiceless wail went among them, scarcely a protest, rather
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  Speaker 1: the ghost of a lament for the child hood's pleasures
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  Speaker 1: they had never known. The sergeant sat down and figured
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  Speaker 1: cheerlessly with a stump of a pencil upon the blank
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  Speaker 1: border of a newspaper. Bulger rose and shuffled out of
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  Speaker 1: the room without ceremony, as was his custom. He was
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  Speaker 1: heard fumbling in the little room in the hallway, and
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  Speaker 1: suddenly a thunderous roar broke out, filling the whole building
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  Speaker 1: with its booming din. The sergeant started and then laughed,
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  Speaker 1: as if his nerves welcomed the diversion it's only comrade Bulger,
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  Speaker 1: he said, doing a little thinking in his own quiet way.
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  Speaker 1: The northern rattled the windows and shrieked around the corners.
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  Speaker 1: The sergeant heap more cold into the stove. The increase
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  Speaker 1: of that cutting wind bore the cold promise of days,
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  Speaker 1: perhaps weeks, of hard times to come. The children were
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  Speaker 1: slowly recovering the sad philosophy out of which the deceptive
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  Speaker 1: hope of one bright day had enticed them. The women
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  Speaker 1: were arranging things for the night, preparing to draw the
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  Speaker 1: long curtain across the width of the hall, separating the
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  Speaker 1: children's quarters and theirs from those of the men. About
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  Speaker 1: eight o'clock the sergeant had seen that all was ship shaped,
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  Speaker 1: and was wrapping his woolen comforter round his neck, ready
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  Speaker 1: for his cold journey homeward. When footsteps were heard upon
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  Speaker 1: the stairway. The door opened, and Bulger came in, covered
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  Speaker 1: with snow like Santa Claus and his red of face,
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  Speaker 1: but otherwise much unlike the jolly Christmas Saint. The old
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  Speaker 1: man shambled down the hall to where the sergeant stood,
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  Speaker 1: drew a wet, earth soiled bag from under his coat,
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  Speaker 1: and laid it upon the table, open it, he said,
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  Speaker 1: and motioned to the sergeant. That cheery official obeyed with
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  Speaker 1: an indulgent smile. He seized the bottom of the bag,
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  Speaker 1: turned it up, and stood with his smile turned to
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  Speaker 1: a gape of amazement, gazing at a heap of gold
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  Speaker 1: and silver coin that rolled upon the table. Count it,
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  Speaker 1: said Bulger. The jingling of the money and wonder at
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  Speaker 1: it source had produced a profound silence in the room.
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  Speaker 1: For a time, nothing could be heard but the hauling
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  Speaker 1: of the wind and the clink of the coins as
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  Speaker 1: the sergeant slowly laid them in little separate piles. Six hundred,
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  Speaker 1: said the sergeant, stopping to clear his throat. Six hundred
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  Speaker 1: and twenty three dollars and eighty five cents. Eighty, said Bulger.
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  Speaker 1: Mistake of five cents. I thought it out at last, sergeant,
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  Speaker 1: and I've give up that friend I told you about.
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  Speaker 1: That's him dollars and cents. The boys was right when
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  Speaker 1: they said I was a miser. Take it, sergeant, and
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  Speaker 1: spend it the best way for them that needs it,
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  Speaker 1: not forgetting a tree for the young uns. And hallelujah,
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  Speaker 1: cried the sergeant. A new based drum, concluded Bulger, then
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  Speaker 1: the sergeant made another speech end of Section four.