Weekly Trinity journal., 1874-04-25
A FORTUNATE MISTAKE.


me. Yet didn't know it, both were
painted in black letters on white oval.
Twenty ty-one-twenty nine. Not much
difference, you see-2l, 29-very like in
deed and yet because l chose the num-
ber without flourish and a long leg, l
am here to-day, and have had long and
happy life. l should have been the oc-
cupant of a suicides grave ever SO many
years ago had l chosen twenty-nine."
81 really can't understand" said J..
WAS it lottery or draft, conscrip-
ton, or whatG Was it II game-was it2"
1T was a number on door," said the
old gentleman. Wait minute III
tell you all about it.
was very much in love everybody is
at some time in life. AT twenty-five |
was desperate. Talk about Romeo! He
was nothing compared me.
Pm not ashamed of it. She was wor-
thy object. Not only because she was
beautiful, but she was good and amiable
and such singer. She sang soprano in
n church choir. And I've heard strangers
whisper to each other, Z" Is there really
an angel up there?" When she sang her
part alone, clear and sweet and fiute-like
her voice was. l never heard its equal.
Well, l loved her, and thought she
liked me, but l wasn't sure. l courted
her a good while, but she was as shy as
any bird, and / couldn't satisfy myself
as to her feelings. So | made up my
mind to ask and know for certain. Some
old poet says:
He either fears his fate too much
Or his deserts are small
Who fears to put il to the touch,
And win or lose il ALL
agreed with him and one evening as
| walked home from n little party where
we had met, with her on my arm, stop
ped under great willow tree, and took
her hand in mine and said:
"Jessie, love you better than my life
will you marry mel"
waited for an answer.
She gave me none.
"Jesssie," said, Won't you speak
to me9"
Then she did speak
No-oh, dear, no !"
offered her my arm again, and took
her home without 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 good-by at the door | bow
ed that was all. Then she was out o
sight, and | stood alone in the village
street, i fclt desperate enough TO Kill
myself.
What had / done to have so cold n re-
fusal ? Why should she scorn me sol
Oh, dear, no! ! grew furious as l re.
peated the words.
Yet i stung me all the same. / tossed
from side to side of my bed all night, and
thought could endure it no longer. But
| would not pain and disgrace my re-
spectacle relatives by committing suicide
in the place where they dwelt and were
well known and thought Of. l would go
to New York-even then n large city
and, seeking some hotel, register an as
sumed name, and retiring at night will
bottle Of laudanum and race of pis
tolls, awake no more, and so be rid Of my
misery. | arranged my affairs to Tho
Inc o oh; i,,
nginary letter from New York, request
| ing my presence on matter of business
/ burdened myself with no unnecessary
luggage. What did an unknown sui
eide" want Of another coat and changC
Of linen?
| kissed my mother and sister, ant
startled my grandmother by an EN- brac
and started upon what | mentally callet
my last journey, with determined spirit
There was a certain hotel in whicl
many of the people Of our village were il
the habit Of going. This avoided. An
other, chosen at u hazard, seemed TO b.
better. Thther | walked determined Il
leave no trace of my destination to thos
who knew memo clue to my identity L
those who shall find me dead.
had no mark upon my clothing, n
card, paper or letter with me. | had tor
the hatter's mark from my beaver. A
/ assembled the hotel steps | felt, so t
speak, like one going to his own funera
A grinning waiter bowed before me.
pert clerk lifted up his head and stared
! was an ordinary traveller to them-tha
was evident.
1t was late in the evening. The plac
wore an air Of repose. Laughter and
faint chink Of grasses in an inner apart
ment told Of some conviyiality. One oil
man read his newspaper before the fire
Nothing else was astir.
asked for room. The clerk nodded
Do you care what 1oor?" he asked
shook my head.
Number twenty-nine is empty" b
said, and tossed key to the waite
whom / followed at once
We reached the room by two flights {
stairs. At the door the waiter paused.
"Thought he said twenty-nine," |
muttered. "The key is twenty-one."
"Then open twenty one with it,"
, said ;" don't care for the number (
the room"
+ "No sir-to be sure, sir" said Il
, waiter, and passed along few steps fu
q ther.
"Twenty- he said, and unlockir
door, pushed it open. "S Shall l brir
: you anything, sir ?"
p I answered No.u and he left m