Morning journal and courier., 1881-02-18
Bill PetterfieIdi,s Story.

Ills name was Bill Petterheld, and he had sad, far-away look in his eye, as if he was continually being haunted by the memory of the past The crowd on the postoffice steps laughed and cracked jokes but he sat aloof, with one hand shading his brow, seemingly absorbed in deep thought. t'What's the matter, Petterfeld, old boy? You look as if you were going to funeral" inquired one of the crowd, skipping him on the back. ''There is nothing the matter with me, he replied, as shade of melancholy swept across his face. 'I was thinking of something that happened long years ago, something which have prayed would be plotted out of memory forever.''
 .sWhat is it, Petterfield? What is this great trouble?" and the laughter died away, and the crowd with bated breath listened to the story which Petterield told.
 sIt was in the spring of 1852 that my friend Jim Weeks and decided to go to Tex as and there seek fortune which fate seemed
 we were never destined to gain. Jim and I had been raised together in the mountains of
 East Tennessee, and the love we bore each
 other bordered on that which exists between
 brothers. One fine morning we bade the dear ones goodbye, and with tears dimming our eyes turned our backs Jim and myself in San Antonio hard at work and in good spirits. We both boarded with
 an old widow lady whose only fault was that
 she sometimes made too free use of her
 boarders' property, but as her kindness to us overbalanced this we naturally forgave. For month or two no man worked harder than Jim Weeks, and no one led more steady life than he, and imagine my surprise when suddenly he began absenting himself from his room at night, and to all my questions
 as to the cause of it he gave evasive re- plies. Day by day he grew moody and ill- humored, and spoke angrily to me when I asked him to confide in me. was at loss to know the meaning of his strange actions, when one night he burst into my room, his eyes bloodshot and his face the color of the
 driven snow. Bill he said as he paced the room, you no doubt have thought me a
 maniac and my actions have, know, caused you much anxiety, but now I intend to plain all Not long since I went to fan dango, and there met Mexican senorita, whose lustrous eyes and bewitching beauty set my blood ahame. I never rested until became acquainted with her, and to know her was to be her captive, her slave. Oh! Bill, I love her madly; would sink my eternal soul into the bottomless pits of hell to win for myself those charms which have so dazed my senses. Whether she loves me or not
 do not know. 1 have been afraid to ask that,
 but tonight shall determine all. and if from
 heS lips receive my doom shall put an end to an existence which would be miserable
 without her. With these words he left me, and as soon as I recovered from my aston ishment snatched up my hat and dashed out of the house in pursuit, determined, if possible, to prevent him from carrying into execution his hellish purpose. I went to every fandango in town, but I could not find trace of him, and was despairing of doing so when little Mexican boy said, 'Senor, dis letter for you and he slipped a note into my hand. Hastily and with trembling fn- gers tore it open. It was from Jim and read:
 "'Good-bye, old boy, have made the one grand play of my life and lost. You will find all that is left of me in my room.'
 With, 8 groan turned and ran like a frightened deer in the direction of the board ing house, hoping, yea, praying that would be in time. When got near the house saw light in his window, and opening the front door as quick as could, entered the hall. The inmates of the house were wrapped ln slumber, and deathlike stiffness reigned. Jim's room door was open, and by the lamplight which screamed through it saw him standing before the glass barring his throat with one hand, while in the other he held the glittering steel I tried to call out,
 but my parched tongue clove to the roof of my mouth and was speeches.. I made an effort to rush upon him and thwart
 his designs, but some unseen power held me back Oh! the agony of these moments will cling to me for
 ever. My hair stood on my head while the cold precipitation burst out upon my fore- head and my limbs shook with terror. saw him deliberately raise the bright steel blade, throw his head back, and after rak- ing it across his throat give low scream of pain.o
 ssGood gracious, Bill, did he cut his throat 2'' gasped the horror stricken crowd.
 s.No, he just swore that the next time the landlady cut her corns with his razor he'd make the house so hot that a blast-furnace would feel like an iceberg Jim had a pretty tough beard anyhow,'' and Bill Petterfeld sighed g saintly sigh as six badly sold men looked off up the street and tried to whistle in careless sort of way, but the effort proved a failure and the silence remained unbroken until one of the crowd invited the rest to take a drink.