Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1879-10-28

creeping and staggering up stairs, ant
growing every second more damp and un-
pleasant beneath the load of briefs he
held in both arms, feared might lose
my senses, so fled to you for advice
only to find you, if possible, in worse
case Ny dear fellow, don't. Throw
over a client or two; do anything except
kill yourself with work
"O hang YOU" says Mr.. Bohun, in
elegantly and very fnvolouSly, looking
wildly round for ruler, OF any other
scasonable missile; aud then they both
laugh, and dignity is no more. Boo
torcgocs grandiloqucncc and descends to
commonplace
lou know the Normans, don't you"
asks Wiiding presently.
The old peoplc-yes; and George !
used to know. long, long ago, but have
rather lost sight Of him of late
"Ah. yes. Hes about the best of
them. Hes in a lunatic asylum now.
| Odd how things come round
NO, You don't say so. ! never
heard a word Of it. met the old man,
Sir John, at the Gorings the other night,
and he said nothing of it..
"Well, he wouldn't, you know, tisn',
| likely" says Mr.. Wilding, Its sort of
| Oh no; we never mention him sort of
affair altogether. You see they set their
affections on George-Sworc by him
thought he had the entire brains of the
family; and when he was spun for the |.
c. ). they nearly went out Of their
minds"
Did they" saws Bohun, with inter-
est, Evidently very cxcitable people;
no doubt it is hereditary in the family
Eth SAYS Mr.. Wlding, somewhat
puzzled. Then-"Well, it couldn't be
helped, YOU know"
NO, of course not, poor fellow in
tones Of the deepest commiseration.
You're A l at sympathy" says Mr..
Willing; ''your face will certainly make
your fortune in court some day lmita-
ton. they say. is the sinccrcst fattcry. so
don, be offended If YOU sec me trying to
copy your present expression. But |
really can't see that George Norman Is so
much to be pi,ied after all. Things might
have been worse
"Wcll. confess don see that.
"Oh. nonsense, know many fellow,
worse of. lie SAYS himself IL /, rather
sunny berth, and ,hat he is quite com
Portable.
I'm glad TO hear that. He doesn't
| feel his position. then:
"Oac would think YOU were "a king Of
a convict, SAYS Mr.. WIIdiug. with some
contempt,
Il can tell YOU, in the long run hi,
people. IN spite OF their absurd pride,
were glad enough to get him in.
That's only natural, YOU know, though
IL sound, heogtie>,. dare say he Was
raub,e>om, at home.
"Iie was ALWAYS a rg,..,,, Sort oi
/ 3e--ar-tsat mus, be allowed; bat it
was O. comc-down. of course. from an
Iaollu Judg,~hip.
I "Wc.i. it was-ra,hcr.
~, first the OLD people quite despised
| the notion of the asylum, but George
was head>trong, "a, YOU may remember,
aud very determined, and do YOU know.
IN the long run tuey had the greatest
difficulty in getting him in, at all.
"Ah. violent case, then, suppose.
Poor George
What" say, Mr.. Wilding, stupidity,
end then he glanccs keenly at his friend,
and finally gives way 10 laughter. that by
degrees dcgenerates into a roar.
Violent says he when he can speak,
and then laughs again 50 heartily that
Nlr Bohun perforce joins in the merri-
ment. although ignorant of its cause.
Did YOU think that George was
a lunatic :" he says at length. ''For
small part declare You are better than
Toole.
"You said he was in lunatic asylum.
What would any one think from that
demanded Mr. Bohun, slightly aggrieyed.
$50 he is, but no; as a patient. He is
doctor of the Southway Asylum. l
thought YOU knew that. What brought
me here today was to bring you an invi-
tation to ball at his place | met him
yesterday, and it appears that he is Civ
ing his mad friends dance; said had
never seen an affair of the kind, so he
asked me to get rid of my ignorance
without delay, and when | mentioned
your name 4 was afraid to 90 by myself
he said he'd be awfully glad to see you
also. VIII YOU Gomez
Il viii, says Bohun briskly Il
shouldrather fancy renewing acquaintance
with George. He was always a very de-
cent fellow"
with uncommon pretty sisters
That enhances his value threefold,"
says Mr.. Bohun approving.y.
The first feeling that fills the breasts of
Mr.. Wilding and his friend as they enter
the ballroom at Southway Is one of dis
tinct disappointment. It Is very much
ike any other ballroom; there Is no de-
nying this sad fact; our friends acknowl-
edged It's truth. with a sigh and a secret
sensation Of surprise and dissatisfaction.
They had expected something widely
different: something with a touch of bur
lesque about it here and there, that would
have made 1t stand ont conspicuously
from among the common ranks of enter
tainments. They had fondly looked for
festival that might resemble in mild