The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1878-10-09
the Falls, while waiting for money t.

the Falls, while waiting for money to
get away.
The next day, while walking out OF
the hotel, I met Eastmore walking IN.
He gave me curious smile and went to
the desk, where he seemed to be looking
over the register for names.
I didn't have anything more to say to
him, but sauntered away, with my head
up. I looked eagerly, the next morn
ing, for the expected letter from home.
1t did not come. But I got an interest,"
ing bit of news instead.
/ took up at the breakfast table news-
paper which a gentleman had laid down,
and read with feelings which you can
perhaps imagine, this item, under the
heading of "Spray from the Falls"
"Don't drink out of the Cataract !
That is what Philip Clement Edney at
tempted to do on Tuesday, in the pres
ence of our reporter, and thus parted
with large and well-stuffed pocket
book, which took that occasion to leap
out of his breast-pocket and dart over
the American Fall like fish: Philip
Clement Edney was hugely dlsgusted;
go likewise was the landlord of the Eagle
House, when he found that the said P.
G. E. had nothing but fair Promises
wherewith to settle his bill. Unfortun-
ately our reporter could not swear to the
wallet and it's contents; and. in this age
of dead beats and confidence men, P. @.
E. naturally fell under some suspicion.
elf an impostor, which our reporter
did not believe, he is very young and a
very good-looking specimen. If an honest
person, as he appears, We can only say
that it was an expensive drink, and refer
the prudent reader to the MORAL OF our
story, which, to insure its being read,
we have placed at the beginning, and
here repeat at the end, Don't drink out
Of the Cataract"
Hot and cold streaks shot over me as
read this smart paragraph. burned
to get hold of Eastmore's sagacioas nose,
and be rude to it. My name-the name
which the reporter had given in ull-
was on the hotel register, and already,
no doubt, was an object of suspicion
by the clerk. l arose hastily and left
the dining hall.
I went to cool my head under the cliff
below the Falls, and did not return to
the hotel until noon. Again I asked the
clerk for letters. There were none for
ME; but there was something else-a
card.
"H. T. Marston was the name l
read on it; and was informed that Mr..
Marston had inquired for me.
ct don't know him, I said. "Who
: is he?"
BY way of reply the clerk struck q
bell, called a messenger, and sent him
off to see if Mr.. Marston was in his room,
and tell him that "Mr. Edney had re-
turned. Then he said to me-
"You are the young man who left a
watch with me, I believe. Do you wish
for it ?"
"I shall wish for it" I said, "when
have money to pay my bill, which am
expecting b. every mail"
"Then it wasn't simply for safe keep.
ing that you handed it to me ?" he said.
"Not altogether" replied. 81 had
no baggage; and to avoid unpleasant
explanations, and perhaps still more un-
pleasant suspicious, I thought 1 would
place that security in your hands.
He smiled as he took the watch frcm
the safe and handed it back to me.
"I don't require the security. [ be-
lieve you are honest, Mr.. Edney. The
paragraph in this mornings paper has
excited interest, and one or two persons
have asked about you. Mr.. Marston
wishes particularly to see you. Walk
up stairs"
The messenger had in fact just re-
turned for me, and I went with him,
wondering all the way what would hap
pen next.
T found tall, well-dressed, fine
looking gentleman waiti-g for me in
his private parlor.
"Is this Philip Clement Elney!" he
said, with smile, which brought up
host of recollections.
T stared at him, all a.tremble with
excitement. I might have passed him
twenty times in the hotel without know.
ing him; but now was sure Of my man
at glance.
"That is my name," T said; "aud
you"-
He stopped me with another engag-
ing smile.
81 am Henry F. Marston, please
remember. If had another name once,
should be glad to have it forgotten.
But am willing that you should know
who am. When 1 saw your name IN
the paper this morning, knew it must
be you. Then I found you were stop
ping at the same hotel with me. Your
father was very, very kind to me, Philip;
and when learned"-
The tears actually came into his eyes,
as he faltered; and at that moment I
forgave him all.
"You were little shaver when knew
you," he went on, with another flashing
smile. 81 should not have recognized
you; but you have your fathers name,
and your mothers eyes. I don't know
why have neglected to communicate
with them. When I found that you
were here, my heart yearned towards
you. How are your parents, Philip ?"
He had not heard of my fathers
death. When I told him, and described
the straitened circumstances of our
family, he appeared greatly astonished
and conscience-stric
"Why haven't you sent for me?" he
asked.
"My father, in his last moments, beg
ged us to let YOU know of our circum.
stances, and I have gone through three
cities in search of you," I replied. "But
no Thomas Harringford"-
he stopped me again. "Of course
not" he said "There is no such man
now, and never has been, sinceI left
Utica and began new life under new
name. T have been much to blame that
I never paid your father. Do you know
the amount OF the debt?"
"The face of the note was seven hun
dred and forty dollars" I answered.
"But that, am sorry to say, went over
the falls in my pocketbook. But
I have a letter to you from my
mother, which I have left in my valise
at the Eagle House,"
"Go and get it, he said.
'I can't replied, "for I have no
money to pay my bill there"
He at once opened his pocket-book.
HTaka that ani oct your yalise."