Perrysburg journal. (Perrysburg, Wood Co., O. [Ohio]) 186?-1965, 1879-10-03

Lulu smiled at him. She evidently
considered it a fellowship like that Of
Fame ct la bete.
sat dumb. MY wit was generally
too early or too late. / knew not in
what form to attack Paul-whether
fearlessly TO expose him as a wolf in
sleeps clothing, or humiliate, sting
and wound him by satire. could not,
however, find chance to speak; sat
like an awkward boy. OF course my
dinner was spoiled. made mistakes
in my wine, and Mr.. Thatcher came to
my relief with ollicious instructions that
he did not intend the Clos Vougeot to
go with the salad. Wherever failed
Paul shone. He was well-dressed,
whereas l was addressed; he was chat
ty, even brilliant, whereas was sulky
and silent. discovered that he had
spent a month with the Thatchers in
Italy. 1t was easy to see how they re-
garded him--a man not too young, far
from rich; yet who had seen and pos
sessed the best part of the world-a
sort of Ulysses. l was rayless beside
him. When finally rallied and made
some trifling observations, they fell
fiat, while Paul's least remark was pom
dered and treasured.
| pleaded an engagement, illness,
something, and left the house as soon
as we rose from the table. went home
and sat up moodily until Paul came in.
i foresaw climax of emotion, wrath,
and the end Of our friendship. He en-
tered just past midnight with a jaunty
air.
"Still upP" said he, putting his hand
on my shoulder. "By the way, Brix,
had dreamed that you were invited to
the Thatchers' tonight, we would have
tossed up for the dress-suit."
"Tossed upP" l retorted, tiercely.
"This is distinctly too much"
"What is too muchP"
81 have not been backward in con-
ferring whatever benefits l could grant
consistent with my own self-respect, L
gasped, I" but for you to wear the very
clothes u
"You don't mean to say, Brix, that
you begrudged me the use of this coat
and waistcoat and trousersP'
| wanted to be rough with him;
wanted to express with the utmost force
my rage at the affront, the wrong, he
had put upon me. But he had so sur
prised a manner, he seemed so panied
by my selfish and arrogant behavior,
he retired so ingeniously into his philo-
sophical theories concerning the inalien-
able right of one man to the posses
sions of any other man, he looked at
me so reproachfully and evinced such
disappointment at my decline from the
plane of lofty. disinterestedness on
which he had placed me, that began
to believe that really was selfish
brute.
Hewent on to tell me that he had loved
the fair Lulu for more than year, and
that it was his intention to offer himself
to her the very next evening, when he
had promised to act as her escort to a
concert.
"You sha'n'twear my dress-clothes, :"
gasped violently.
He bemoaned his destiny like an art
less child; he complained of the cruelty
of the world. had disappointed him.
1t was but one failure the more, but the
worst failure of his life. He had no
money to buy dress-clothes for himself,
yet if he presented himself next evening
to Lulu in his shabby velveteen, it would
be such a palpable shock to her suscep-
tibilities that he would be liable to lose
the ground already gained. But almost
worse than his disappointment in love
was his disappointment in my disinter-
ested fraternal affection. He ought, he
said, to have accepted my offers of
friendship, counting upon them no
more than upon Spaniard's courteous
but unmeaning formula, "All that l
have is yours" He should not
have put my uncompromising egotism
to this test.
1 was amenable to such treatment.
go. take my Clothes" 1 cried wildly
"Take anything! Don't think of me or
of my claims in the least. I've got a
better necktie than that, and a pair of
diamond studs. Put them on tomorrow
night. Let Lulu believe they are yours.
Look your best in them. Win her if
you can"
Paul wrung my hand.
"Brix," he returned with fervor, 81
DiH."
He did so. He went out next even
ing faultless in my attire, and returned
triumphant; Lulu had accepted him.
Old Thatcher had found no fault with
him, and the thing was to be an en-
gagement.
l found a certain morbid pleasure in
making Paul a wedding-present of the
clothes he was wearing. am the sort
of man who cannot stand up against
destiny, and is forced to accommodate
himself to the inevitable. Paul was ex-
tremely grateful, and upon the break
ing up of our menage, which followed
hard upon his engagement, insisted
upon making me present of the skele-
ton.-Lippincotts Magazine TOR October.