A Wellington Street Picture.

Alexandra Herald and Central Otago Gazette, Issue 380, 20 August 1903, Page 3

A Wellington Street Picture.

He had dropped dead beside the I wet, cold, blue, metal stones he had been breaking all the morning, and ! he had been carried out of the 1 yard and laid in the street. The body lay on the * roadway ; a piece of oilskin covered the bend and chest, and a torn sack the legs. Only the old worn boots were uncovered. A little group of men and boys stood round and peered with wooden expression. It was the nearest they could get to that reverence for Death, which they felt was-ex-pected in ita presence. In the yard where the pile of wet blue metal stonea were a man was tugging at a horse's mouth. His voice came up on the wind-swept rain: " Get back, curse you," he said. A few paces from the group around the body a policeman stood. He away into the distance as if looking for the reason of Death ; in reality he was looking for an express. He posed to the requirements of the situation —he was the Mftn in Charge of the Dead. A pressman hurried to the officer for 'information'; , his first question was ignored, his second brought an impatient muttering. An old man, unshaven for many days, and soaking wet, stood, at th« head of the dead man. He w&« shivering and fumbling nervously ■ • it button on the thin faded coat, " Y*s," he'replied, "I knoo him for thirtythree year. He had some dinner and was just lightin' his pipe, when he made a choke with his throat ari dropped dead." For the. moment the group had lost its interest in the dead in watching the living. All eyes followed the pressman's pencil.' "His name, his the old man was saying; ",T dunno.; it started with a' D." The pressman hurried away, and the. little group, shuffled back and reflexed its gaze on the boots, the old worn boots, and tho oilskin that covered the grey dead face.—Exchange