The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1877-06-28
NOT THE SANE MAN.


A Sad Case of Love and TRANSPORTATION.
"What ails you, Harvey? You are
not the same man you were," said l to
my friend, Harvey Dunlop, as we lay
under the trees on Point-aux-Pins in
Whitefish Bay / had met him in Cleve-
land two weeks before, when | passed
through that city ON my way toward
Lake Superior, whittier was going for
my summer outing. l had been shock
ed by his wan and haggard appear
ance, and had easily persuaded him to
join me for few weeks of outdoor
life on the shores of the great northern
lake.
AS we had steamed slowly up toward
the Sault St. Marie on one of the clumsy
lake propellers, | had conjectured, from
his unfamiliar manner of speech, that
his malady was rather mental than
physical; but l had hoped that the
change of scenery and the healthy infiu-
ences of nature would benefit him. Now,
however, we had been for a week idling
along the shore, fishing when the whim
seized us, but puzzling our Indian guide
greatly by the way in which we dawdled
away the days lying on the grass, and
Harvey was apparently no better.
therefore ventured, on the strength of
our old friendship, to speak as l did.
He turned quickly, with the nervous
motion now common with him, but ut
terly foreign to the lazy dignity | had
admired so much in former years. Look
ing at me angrily for a moment, he
seemed to be trying to control himself.
At length he said:
How do you know?"
"How do / know you are not the
same manP Why, you show it plainly.
You have changed greatly in five years.
Your very habit of speech is different.
You have had some trouble. Can 1 help
you2''
"Don't palter! How do you know
am not the same manpn he said, still
more angrily.
&c How can l help seeing the changer"
| asked, in some surprise.
He looked at me moment more with
out speaking, and then burst into loud
laugh. "It's very funny" he said,
"that no one else has seen it.. You are
very sharp. Do you know, she did not
see it till told herp" And he grew sud-
denly grave.
Before l recovered from my surprise
sufficiently to reply, he said: 81 will
tell you about it." and, raising himself
to a sitting posture, he told me the fol-
lowing story, with such earnestness of
manner that [ was fairly compelled to
listen without interrupting him.
3" You know" he said, "that after [
graduated at college l went to study
with my uncle, Doctor Giles Interford,
who was also my guardian. need not
tell you that, as student in the office
of so eminent surgeon, l had as prom
Using an outlook for the future as any
fellow with my love for the profession
could desire. was hard student, and
my uncle considered me a promising
one. He was very indulgent as guar
dian, and, while never neglected nv
studies, fell into somewhat dissipated
habits. His indulgence of these NAV
have come from the belief that it was use
less to try to restrain me, as was almost
81, and would soon be beyond his con-
troll. Whatever the reason was, he for
bore from remonstrance and reproof,
and |, in gratitude for his indulgence,
was careful not to annoy him by my ir-
regularity, although lived with him in
the old family mansion that he inherited
from my grandfather. A year of my
period of study passed thus. 1t was
very pleasant for me, though hard liv-
ing began to tell on me, and grew a
little nervous. One day, soon after
had attained my majority, my uncle said
quietly at the Gbreakfast-table:
''' Harvey, / am going away for
week, and when return shall bring
wife with me-
81 was used enough to his odd WAYS
not to be as much surprised as I would
have been at so abrupt an announce
ment from another man, and | offered
him my congratulations, which he re-
eeived as though they were dose of
medicine. Iasked him the lady's name,
and he said it was Margaret Slater. 1
wondered greatly, not that he should
have tried to win her, but that he should
have succeeded, for / had met her in
New York, and knew that she was a
young and beautiful woman, of good
family, and moderate fortune, while my
uncle, you may remember, was then
past so, an eccentric old bachelor, lame
and slightly deformed in one shoulder.
But | again congratulated him, saving
that | knew the lady slightly, at which
he seemed in his turn surprised. When