Port Tobacco times, and Charles County advertiser. (Port Tobacco, Md.) 1845-1898, 1874-01-16
& Nupular Etory.


INS1y odS ii<to q lltCht hltlHUCl,
said the old gentleman. "AIine is
twenty-one. Twenty-Five might have
been, would have been, an unlucky
number for me. Yet didn't know it;
both were painted in black letters on a
white oval. Twenty one-twenty-nine.
Not much difference, you see-21, 80
very like indeed; and yet because l
chose the number without flourish
and a long leg, l am here to-day, and
have had a long and happy life. I
should have been the occupant of a
suicides grave ever so many years ago
had chosen twenty-uine." y
II really can't understand said I.
t'Was it a lottery or draft; conscrip-
tion, or what: Was it game-was
it?"
ssIt was the number on a door," said
the old gentleman. ''Wait minute,
I'll tell you all about it,
81 was very much in love; everybody
is at some time in life. At twenty-five
was desperate. Talk about Romeo.
He was nothing compared with me.
"Tm not ashamed of it. She was a
worthy object. Not only because she
was beautiful but she was good and
amiable, and such a singer. She sang
soprano in the church choir. And
I've heard strangers whisper to each
other, 'is there really an angel up
there" When she sang her part alone,
clear and sweet and fute-like her voice
/. was. I've never heard its equal.
swell | loved her, and, thought she
liked me, but wasn't sure. l court
ed her good while, but she was as
shy as any bird, and | couldn't satisfy
myself as to her feelings. SO l made
up my mind to ask and know for GER
tain. Some old poet says:
"'He either fears his fate too much,
Or his deserts are small
Who fears to put it to the touch,
And win or lose it ALL
81 agreed with him; and one even
ing as 1 waIked hUif1o (. ON a fIrTfe par
ty, where we had met, with her on my
arm, l stopped under great willow
tree, and took her hand in mine, and
said:
"Jessie, / love you better than my
ife-will you marry me:'
81 waited for an answer.
"She gave none.
"'Jessie,' said, won't you speak to
me?'
t'Then she did speak:
"'No-oh, dear, no.
81 offered her my arm again, and
took her home without q word. She
did not speak either. She had told
me before that she should start with
the dawn to visit an aunt in New York;
but did not even say goodbye at the
door. | bowed; that was all. Then
when she was out of sight, and | stood
alone in the village street, l felt des-
perate enough to kill myself.
"What had done to have so cold a
refusal? Why should she scorn me
SO? Oh, dear, no. l grew furious as
l repeated the words.
"Yet, it stung me all the same, |
tossed from side to side of my bed all
night. and thought l could endure it
no longer. But | would not pain and
disgrace my respectable relatives by
committing suicide in the place where
an they dwelt and were well known
and thought of. l would go to New
York-eyen then a very large city
and, seeking some hotel, register an
assumed name, and, retiring at night
syith a bottle of laudanum and brace
of pistols, awake no more, and so be
rid of my misery. 1 arranged my af-
fairs to the best Of my ability, and re-
ceived an imaginary letter from friend
zn New York, requesting my presence
on matter Of business. | burdened
myself with no unnecessary luggage.
What did an unknown suicide want
of another coat and change of linen?
81 kissed my mother and sister, and
startled my grandmother by an en-
brace, and started upon what ] men-
tally called my last journey, with de-
termiped spirit.
"There was a certain hotel to which
many Of the people Of our village were
in the habit Of going. This Iayoided.
Another, chosen at hazard, seemed
to be better. Thither | walked, deter
mined to leave no trace Of my destina-
tiop to those who knew memo cleW
to my identity to those who shall find
me dead.
81 had no mark upon my clothing,
no card, paper or letter with ME. |