Sunbury American. [volume] (Sunbury, Pa.) 1848-1879, 1874-10-09
GALES ano gketrRes.
NO HERO AFTER ALL.

Are you star gazing?' asked Helen
Demo, stepping out upon the verandah,
where Tom Ford stood, staring distracted
ly at the cloudless evening sky.
Only trying TO devise some new method
Of shutting off the mortal COLL Tom an
swered laying his unlighted segar on the
railing beside him.
Have matters reached such desperate
condition with you ? laughed his compan-
ion. 4 should never have suspected it,
1t is my hero, not myself, who is to be
sent out of the world, was the reply. Can
not you give me hint? Poison, con-
sumption, precipices, shipw-eck, runaway
horses. Bah ! l have made use of them
all till they have grown wearisomely COM
mon. | am tempted to advertise for a
novel way of riding myself or other people
of life-even at the risk of.oriuging a whole
host of detectives down upon me-
Why not let the poor myth live + ques-
toned Helen, smiling ut the comical ex-
preston of despair or the perplexed au-
thor's face.
Impossible y replied Tom. The lost
heir has turned up, and is all ready to
marry Lady Gwendoline, and SO this hero
Assistant hero, rather, is in the way, and
must De removed, even if have to do it in
a commonplace fashion. Youdo not know
what benevolent person | am, Miss Helen,
nor how much have done for the happi-
ness of my kind since first | commenced
scribblng. At the lowest estimate | have
hunted out and returned to their sOrrowiug
parents fully three dozen heirs and heires-
ses-with and without strawberry marks
and tattooed anchors OH their arms. If it
were not for the base ingratitude Of hui
manity, my statue, arrayed III nOndescript
costume, and executed in the worst style
of American art, would now adorn Central
Park or Union Square. ! would like to be
4 lost heir myself be went on, musingly,
only to be it is necessary to have liquid
blue eyes and golden hair and snowy brow;
or raven locks and fathomless dark OIbs
and classic features, and not one of these
attractions did unkind nature see fit to be-
stow upon me. I am homely-not even
picturesquely homely, at that-do you
know il, Miss Helen 2
Since you have made the assertion,
can not be impolite enough to contradict
it, she replied, gathering some of the
crimson leaves from the Virginia creeper
and putting them into her belt as she
spoke.
Give them to me please said Tom
stretching out his hand
She shook her head and pointed to the
vine.
For n momentO of this evening" he
pleaded in a tone which was far from senti-
mental
How many such momentoes have you
already % questioned she, still keeping the
leaves.
A dead rose-some other plant, which
now looks and smells decidedly hayey, a
glove spotted with lemonade and of no pos
sible use to its rightful owner-a slipper
rosette, big and ugly as a mushroom, and
piece of pink ribbon much creased, which
may, perhaps, have belonged to Miss Hal
stead instead of you,' enumerated Tom.
That is all, | assure you.'
What are you going to do with them ?
Helen demanded, much inclined to laugh.
Keep them to sigh over winter evenings
when the fire gets low and my segar is
smoked out Tom answered. One must
have help to misery as well as to happi-
ness.'
IF that be so, here are the leaves, laying
them in his hand. May they contribute
their small share toward making you
wretched, since it is for that you desire
them
"A thousand thanks = he exclaimed, put
ting the coveted possession into his pocket
book where the dead rose already reposed.