One night as we were on our way to a theater there stood on a nearby
corner in the cold a blind man singing and at the same time holding out
a little tin cup into which the coins of the charitably inclined were
supposed to be dropped. At once my brother noticed him, for he had an
eye for this sort of thing, the pathos of poverty as opposed to so gay a
scene, the street with its hurrying theater crowds. At the same time, so
inherently mischievous was his nature that although his sympathy for the
suffering or the ill-used of fate was overwhelming, he could not resist
combining his intended charity with a touch of the ridiculous.
"Got any pennies?" he demanded.
"Three or four."
Going over to an outdoor candystand he exchanged a quarter for pennies,
then came back and waited until the singer, who had ceased singing,
should begin a new melody. A custom of the singer's, since the song was
of no import save as a means of attracting attention to him, was to
interpolate a "Thank you" after each coin dropped in his cup and between
the words of the song, regardless. It was this little idiosyncrasy which
evidently had attracted my brother's attention, although it had not
mine. Standing quite close, his pennies in his hand, he waited until the
singer had resumed, then began dropping pennies, waiting each time for
the "Thank you," which caused the song to go about as follows:
"Da-a-'ling" (Clink!--"Thank you!") "I am--" (Clink!--"Thank you!")
"growing o-o-o-ld" (Clink!--"Thank you!"), "Silve-e-r--" (Clink!--"Thank
you!") "threads among the--" (Clink!--"Thank you!") "go-o-o-ld--"
(Clink! "Thank you!"). "Shine upon my-y" (Clink!--"Thank you!")
"bro-o-ow toda-a-y" (Clink!--"Thank you!"), "Life is--" (Clink!--"Thank
you!") "fading fast a-a-wa-a-ay" (Clink!--"Thank you!")--and so on ad
infinitum, until finally the beggar himself seemed to hesitate a little
and waver, only so solemn was his rôle of want and despair that of
course he dared not but had to go on until the last penny was in, and
until he was saying more "Thank yous" than words of the song. A
passer-by noticing it had begun to "Haw-haw!", at which others joined
in, myself included. The beggar himself, a rather sniveling specimen,
finally realizing what a figure he was cutting with his song and thanks,
emptied the coins into his hand and with an indescribably wry
expression, half-uncertainty and half smile, exclaimed, "I'll have to
thank you as long as you keep putting pennies in, I suppose. God bless
you!"
My brother came away smiling and content.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account