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Show MADE TRAMP MINER'S HEIR I 1 ajyifyyta 7 T fa not often that a man i i feeds a stray fowl and has f'j It magically turn into the lf ist 6ose that laid tl18 gold" fin en egg, but that is U Ml just what has happened V jH to Joe Harris of Knox-JM&v Knox-JM&v ville, former auction-'jVfv auction-'jVfv , eer and member of the K Tennessee legislature and ll now in his old age a poor v poultry dealer. Twenty-fy Twenty-fy five years ago Harris fed. clothed and staked a tramp miner, William Robinson, whom he picked up on the streets of Knoxville, and the other day through London solicitors he learned that he is the beneficiary of Robinson's will. The one time tramp died recently in Melbourne leaving an estate said to exceded two million dollars. When he befriended Robinson Harris Har-ris was a famous auctioneer and went from city to city through the south conducting sales. He was a picturesque pictur-esque figure. Tall and gaunt, a little stooped, always in frock coat and high silk hat. Harris attracted crowds wherever he went. He had a tremendous tre-mendous stock of funny stories and knew how to tell them so that when he mounted a stand to cry his goods men pushed as close as they could to listen because they were sure of entertainment. en-tertainment. He was quick to see funny incidents and could always get back at any wag who tried to be facetious with him. Sales were often delayed until his services could be secured. . He made from three to five hundred dollars every day he worked and sometimes by taking a commission would make as much as $10,500 a day. Generous to a fault, he spent and gave away money as fast as he earned it. No one in distress was ever refused help by him. i One day as he waited for a train in Virginia he saw a woman crying in the station. She held a baby in her arms while a little boy about five years old sat beside her, trying to console her. "What's the trouble over there?" Harris asked a native of the place. "She's been turned out and has to go home to her folks," came the answer. an-swer. "Why?" asked Harris, touched by the woman's grief. "Did you see that rich Col. W at the sale today? Well, he sold her husband hus-band a little house for $1,000. They were to pay for it on the installment plan. Her husband died last week owing ow-ing the Colonel $271, so h.e turned the woman-and the children out because, he said, he knew they could not finish the payments." "That amount don't 1 represent a day's work for me," said Harris. "Call some responsible man. I'll leave the money to finish paying for the house." Harris was already opening a wallet containing mors than $1,000' which he had just made in that particular town. "Let the poor thing stay in her home!" , The train was whistling, and Harris Har-ris handed over the amount, adding, j "I'll be here again Monday and will i settle any minor expenses incident to the deal." I The favor was forgotten by Harris ! until a day or two ago he had a letter let-ter from the little boy, now grown to manhood. He had read an account of Harris' good fortune and wanted ' to congratulate him. He and his mother moth-er had never been able to write their i thanks for his kindness to them be- cause all they knew of their benefactor benefac-tor was that his name was Harris and that he was an auctioneer. They did not know where he lived. This was only one of many like incidents in-cidents in his life. He once gave a beggar whom he found in a pitiable physical condition in the streets of Nashville $150 with which to go to a hospital for treatment. It was in January, 18S7, that Harris met the man who has just left' him more than $2,000,000. At tfiat time Harris operated an auction house in Knoxville. As ha 'went Into town one morning he stopped by an old freight depot that he had just bought and was having torn down. While he was looking look-ing about giving orders to the men at work, he noticed Robinson tip his shabby old hat . to him. Harris i stopped and looked the man In the face. Robinson was evidently hungry. L "Have you had breakfast, young man?" Robinson was then 28. "No, sir, I haven't." 1 "Take this quarter," began Harris, "and go over to Ronner's saloon and , get you two drinks. They'll brace you up. Then I'll take you home for breakfast." At the table Harris offered Robin-3 Robin-3 son $2 a day to oversee the negroes at work on the old depot. Robinson accepted eagerly. When Harris pass- ed the depot at noon he called to Rob-1 Rob-1 inson and took him home to dinner. 3 After the meal was over Robinson picked up a violin belonging to Harris. "Never in my life had 1 heard such fiddling," declared Harris, in an interview in-terview last night. "That's the same old fiddle there under my bed. 1 turned turn-ed to my wife when he finished playing play-ing and I said, 'You can expecc this man home to supper tonight. Anybody Any-body that fiddles like Robinson here can find lodging as well as food in my house.' '' So the medley played on the old fiddle changed the course of events for both men. Harris can still hear the old tune echoing down the years, but now to the accompaniment of clinking gold. "You needn't go back to work those niggers this afternoon," Harris told Robinson as they left the house together. to-gether. "You come to the auction house with me.". It was a new Robinson, freshly shaven and well dressed In new clothes from his shoes to his hat who went home with Harris that night. : When Harris went to Nashville to take his seat as representative from Knox county in the Tennessee legislature legis-lature he took Robinson with him. Before Be-fore starting he had his own tailor make Robinson a $45 suit of clothes. Harris had won eight silk hats on Harrison's Har-rison's election and he handed one of them over to his new friend. "If I wear a silk hat to Nashville you'll wear one too," he said. They stopped at the old Maxwell house and Harris furnished Robinson Butte, Mont., was a mecca then for all fortune buuters, and Robinson was anxious to try his luck there. So Harris Har-ris paid his debt to Col. Bell, bought him a ticket to Butte and gave him a roll of money. Robinson left Nashville Nash-ville March '10, 1SS7. Six years later Harris heard from him. The expressman brought him a pack'ige containing $500 from Robinson, Robin-son, "who was then at Cape Nome, in the gold fields of Alaska. Since that time Harris haa had many misfortunes. The great strain of auctioneering both Indoors and out has almost ruined his voice. Ho suffers suf-fers constantly with his throat. No longer able to conduct sales, he is connected con-nected with a small poultry business and is forced to live in a very modest way. His wife, still fond of the beautiful beau-tiful things to which she was accui tomed until late years, has made t'Vl' two rooms over an old store br:f with window boxes of bloomin? So-ers So-ers and green vines. Everything about the i.iacj i3 neat and clean, but very plaiil. There are six or eight large bird Li'ges In the combination living and b' droom, for Mr. Harris is a great admirer of songbirds song-birds and loves to hear their music. He does not seem elated over the news of his good luck, but will continue contin-ue to go about his work as usual until the fortune has actually been irned over to him. As he sat in the light of a little oil lamp on a table be.('-5 him, never lifting his eyes from the floor as he talked, ha did not appeal to be over 50, for his hair and long mustache are still red, with no touch of gray. He is modest about his generosity gen-erosity in the past, constantly declaring declar-ing that he never did much for charity. char-ity. "I never did anything more than 1 ought to have done," he frequently asserts. as-serts. "I have made over $100,000 auctioneering." Ar -V. .4 P 1 l - f& - ' , JOE HARRIS". with plenty of spending money. Rob-' lnson never mentioned his relatives if he had any living. He appeared to be a man of refinement and culture, well able to take care of himself in the company of the legislators and state senators with whom he was constantly associated in the famous old hotel in Tennessee's capital. He was grateful to Harris and warm In his praise of him. He frequently expressed his belief be-lief that he would strike it rich some day and be able to return Harris' kindness. One night as they were having a drink together Robinson declared that he wanted to play the grain market at old Col. Bell's place, and Harris gave him $50 for the purpose. Later Robinson Rob-inson went to the Maxwell house with $1,300 that he had made out of the $50. "Now, Robinson, you put $1,000 in my friend H 's bank here in Nashville. Nash-ville. It is safe, and you can operate on the remaining three hundreu," advised ad-vised Harris, but a day or two afterward after-ward Robinson appeared to be much depressed and finally confessed that he had lost his last dollar on May wheat and was In debt $50 to Col. Bell. He has no children except an adopted adopt-ed daughter, now married, who lives in Kentucky. Since the news of his fortune has gone out over the country Harris has received hundreds of letters, let-ters, many of them from women who want to marry him. If he is single, they write, please notify them aod they will send their pictures. "The notoriety is the only unpleasant unpleas-ant thing about it," he laughed, holding hold-ing the lamp over his head to light his visitors down the dark hallway of the old building, which he may soon leave for a luxurious home. |