Nick Babas Last Drink and Other Sketches

Nick Baba's Last Drink and
Other Sketches, by

George P. Goff This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no
cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give
it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License
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Title: Nick Baba's Last Drink and Other Sketches
Author: George P. Goff
Release Date: June 5, 2006 [EBook #18509]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
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BABA'S LAST DRINK AND ***

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NICK BABA'S LAST DRINK
AND

OTHER SKETCHES.

BY
GEO. P. GOFF.
* * * * *
Pro captu lectoris habent sua fata libelli.
* * * * *
ILLUSTRATED.
* * * * *

LANCASTER, PENNA.:
INQUIRER PRINTING AND PUBLISHING COMPANY
1879.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1879, by
GEO. P. GOFF,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. C.

TO THE
"RAYMOND HALL" SHOOTING CLUB,
THIS
VOLUME IS INSCRIBED.

PREFACE.
THE KIND PARTIALITY OF INDULGENT FRIENDS HAVING
INDUCED ME TO GATHER TOGETHER THESE SCATTERED
FRAGMENTS, INDITED AS A RECREATION FOR MY LEISURE
MOMENTS, I GIVE THEM THUS COLLECTED, WITH THE HOPE
THAT THE SAME FAVOR WILL BE EXTENDED TO THEIR
IMPERFECTIONS AS HAS SO OFTEN BEEN SHOWN TO THEIR
AUTHOR.

CONTENTS.
NICK BABA'S LAST DRINK.
TRIP TO CURRITUCK--ILLUSTRATED.
HAUNTED ISLAND.
LEGEND OF BERKELEY SPRINGS--ILLUSTRATED.

NICK BABA'S LAST DRINK,
AND OTHER SKETCHES.

NICK BABA'S LAST DRINK.
It was Christmas Eve, and the one narrow main street of a small
country town was ablaze. Extra lights were glowing in all the little
shops; yet all this illumination served only to make more apparent the
untidy condition of the six-by-nine window panes, as well as the goods
therein. Men and women were hastening homeward with well-filled
baskets which they had provided for the festive morrow. All the ragged,
dirty urchins of the village were gathered about the dingy shop

windows admiring, with distended eyes and gaping mouths, the several
displays of toys and sweetmeats.
Their arms buried quite to their elbows in capacious but empty pockets,
they cast longing looks and wondered, as they had no stockings, where
Santa Claus could put their presents when he had brought them. To all
this show and preparation there was one exception: one place shrouded
in total darkness--it was the shop of Nick Baba, the village shoemaker.
That was for the time deserted; left to its dust, its collection of worn-out
soles, its curtains of cobwebs, and its compound of bad, unwholesome
odors. This darkness and neglect was about to end, however, and give
place to a glimmer of light.
Nick now came hurrying in and, quickly striking a light, placed
between himself and a flickering oil lamp a small glass globe filled
with water. He sat down upon his bench and commenced work in
earnest on an unfinished pair of shoes. He hammered, and pulled, and
stretched, and pegged, and sewed, and all this time, had there been any
one present, they might have observed that, though Nick worked so
diligently, he was unhappy, and a prey to the bitterest reflections. All in
the village had commenced their merry-making, while he sat there
alone, forgotten, and in despair. His neighbors had plenty--he was
penniless, and could take nothing to his home but regrets for the past.
The rickety old door now creaked on its rusty, worn-out hinges, and
admitted a creature as strange looking as it was unexpected. It moved
straight toward Nick, and perched itself upon a three-legged stool close
beside him. This mysterious thing could not be pronounced
supernatural, and yet it was as unlike anything human as is possible to
imagine. It was more like some fantastic figure seen in a dream--the
creation of a disordered brain. It may be that it was a goblin--Nick
thought it one. It was only about two feet high; a mass of dark-brown
hair streamed down its back, partially concealing a great hump, and
thence flowed down to its heels. Its head was round as a ball and
topped out by a velvet cap of curious shape and workmanship, with a
broad projecting front which shaded a pair of lustrous red eyes, set far
back beneath the forehead--almost lost there. Its breast was sunken, and
the head settled down between the shoulders, created an impression of

weakness, as if, for example, it should speak, that a small piping voice
would come struggling up from below. Baba looked up with alarm, but
the goblin greeted him with a smile,