Litchfield enquirer., 1876-04-13

Character: iE fact. Le could scarcely ac- count for 1t at all He and Hastings had been boys together, lived upon the same block, sat upon the same bench at school l Jack had done HastIpgs's figuring there, as had since at tbe store; written his few compositions. Hastings, on his part, had 1 done some fighting for Jack, who was 1 mockingly aggressive, but physically 1 weak; and so they had shared life togeth' CT. When Jack father whv was rich, had sent him to college, Towards father, who was poor. had put Howard into a store, l and there lrad been q separation between them-but of short duration: Jacks fa- 1 tIier failed and died, his mother shortly i followed, and Jack was thrown penniless and friendless upon the world. Hastings l never rested till he got hm i'll tie store 1 Hastings was out among the goods then, and considered rising boy. Jack natar- ally fell among the books; it was his mis- 1 fortune that he never conld tell one fabric 1 from the other, but could enumerate their names and value, even in foreign measure men s, with lightning like celerlty. This aptness on his part stamped his future with irremediable poverty and overwork. Hastings could scarcely write his own name decently, and never mastered the multiplication table, but at twenty-five he had trade worth a hundred thousand dollars in sales to the firm.
 Jack admired his friend and respected him, but he had no precedent upon which to base that blush.
 You had reason, repeated Jack.
 "Yes, Jack, a deep reason, a mighty pretty and profound reason, a confound | edly graceful and fascinating reason. 1 never thought could find such a one in the world. I've seen them, Jack, fine and superfne; but this is stunner-a proud stepping. high little beauty, with head like deer, and eyes, Jack, that slaughter I a fello e's wits, and voice with queer musical ring in it, and eyelashes that curl and curl. And she knows how to dress, you understand. Plenty of money, of course; but that ain't every thing: it's a good deal to know how to use 1t. Upon my oath and soul, Jack, m done for. l love her to that extent that If 1 thought there could be such thing as to lose her, I'd go quietly out somewhere and blow ont my brains. I haven't been able to think, or eat, or sleep for the last two weeks, and I've made up my mind to ask you, Jack, for God S sake, to help me | out-'
 1T r said Jack, who had been interest ] of allowing his hunger to cool with his plate
 l "Yes, you. The fact is. Jack, I never envied you before, but do now, from the bottom of my heart, do I'll give half my trade for that trick you have of string ing out rhymes and things, catching up those writer's stuff you know, and talking I like book, and thatsort of thing. l us ed to think 1t was bore, and beg of you | to shut up, but I wish to Helven I'd list | ened now and got some of 1t by heart. l say, Jack, old fellow, you don't think you could teach me d little of that balderash, do you? You see, it's in her line, Jack, and it seems to fit like glove. She don't seem to care for society talk. It's easy enough to lean up against the wall, and l look interested, and smile, and make up little compliments; but it won't do there, | Jack; she's different article altogether. Yoa'd know what I mean if you were with | her, Jack, for she's as like you. old boy, ss two peas in pod just such pretty i fancies and whimsical flights. Oh, Jack, I'm unworthy of her never ought to think of her agaln. | And here Howard put his head down upon the .tarnished cloth with gesture of despondency that went to his friends 1 heart.
 Why, Howard, old man." said Jack, ''take heart; the woman doesn't live that you're unworthy of. You shall have her, promise you Who is she? Where does she live? Is there much of an ob- l stacle, in the way of money?
 "Shes the only child of Armstrong;, of the big Werstern firm. She lives away out on the border. There is about half a 1 million of dollars of an obstacle" ''Phew !' whistled Jack, rather appall- l ed
 It began to be noticeable, after this lit- tie confidence Ill the chop-house around | the corner, that Hastings became more | quiet and preoccupied i'll his manner. His broad smooth brow wore little wrinkles of care; an air of determination, yet of severe trial, lent a new dignity to his hand some features. He would disappear be- hind pile of goods, take a couple of | sheets of paper out of his pocket, covered, even between the lines, with a neat 1egi- ble chirography, and read them over and over with rather a rueful cast of counten- ance, and becoming puzzled at the end in l (to hm) mystical hyperbole, he would waylay Jack at the door of the entry-room and carry him off mp town.
 Its splendid, Jack, of course," he would say, ''but so long You don't know what labor it is. See here, and here and here. Confound it Jack, I'll have to send the thing out by Adams express"
 And Howard would unfold before his friend page after page of his own manu- script, each letter big and found and com plete in itself. For one of the neat little pages of Jack Springer's,, Howard had covered six of a larger size. Jack shrank from this braZen and premeditated pillory. of thoughts and dreams that had filled the most secret and sacred recesses of his l heart.
 Cant you copy it out little smaller?" Jack would remonstrate.
 'I could, I could,'' groand Howard; "but you kno ' what tricks pen plays with me if take any liberties with it. turning itself into spider drunken with ink My only salvation lies in big round letters that old Armstrong can read from his side of the table. And, Jack, it's splendid. no doubt, but so long Here's this thing about the stream in the wood; cant you cut it short, Jack ?"
 Jack flushed little. Its a simile, Howard" he said. ''To cut it is to spoil it. But leave the whole thing out. The letter will do without it, suppose
 ''You see, Jack, groaned the poor lov- CT, there must be another at the house now. She's beginning to write every oth- CT day. It's dreadful. Jack. Ton don't know how 1t wears on me, I begin to hate the sight of letter. What with duns and things, my table is always lit tered mp with envelopes. I wish to Heav- en writing had never been invented :"
 Don't you wish you'd been born in the Middle Ages, said Jack, with 8 quiet irony in his words and manner that escap- ed his friend. "when handsome face and figure, fine horse and nice outfit in the way of armor, were all a man needed in love and war-the only occupations worth striving for at that time? If there was any little contemptible clerkly business to he settled by the way, it was handed over U some squire in waiting like myself, you know; but as for the knight, reading and writing were servile affairs entirely be- heath his notice."