The Eaton Democrat. (Eaton, Ohio) 1875-1903, 1883-03-01
How the Fates Work Against Poor
Jones.

1t has S0metlmeS Deen QouDteu tnat
there is divinity which shapes our ends
them how we may, but there
is one man in this city who believes that
he is foreordained. predestined, prede-
termined to suffer. Poor Jones! he seems
to spend his whole life in offering to Mrs.
Jones-an excellent woman, by the way
"a series of apologies for doing things
he never did, and he no sooner gets out
of one scrape than he plunges into
another. If Mrs. Jones has fault it is
that of loving Mr.. Jones too much for
his own good; and being so particularly
fond of him herself, she imagines every
other woman must be, and so at times
Jones finds his life not worth living.
1t always happens, too, at some time
when he is in peaceful. pious frame of
mind, walking firmly in the path of recti-
tude and fourishing like bay-rum tree.
For instance, just few nights ago he
said, after supper, that he believed he'd
go down town few minutes and look at
the new electric light, and Mrs. Jones
asked him to mail some letters for her,
and he started out, whistling
'I want to be an angel"
On the way down it occurred to him
that he might as well stop at the barber's s
and get shaved, and he did-so. Then he
went to look at the light, and as he
walked along the sidewalk, where it was
as bright as day, he saw lady in front
of him drop a folded paper out of her
purse. He started forward, picked it up
and presented it gallantly to the lady,
saying: :,
''Madam, you dropped this just now" :"
Now the most that he expected was q
grateful ''thank you;" but instead of
that the woman gave terrific scream,
grabbed hold of policeman who was
sauntering by, and pointing Jones out,
shrieked:
ssThat man insulted men'
Jones attempted to explain, but the
policeman told him to hush up or he
would club him, and then asked the
woman if he should arrest him. She said
n-n-o, she should hate to have to appear
in court againt such creature as that,
and so after taking Jones' name and
number he let him 60.
Jones went homet he had tasted
enough adventure for one evening and
was glad enough to get back into the no
when his wife saw him she held up both
hands.
why, Jeptha," shs exclaimed; show
you look, where's your collar and tic
gone top''
"EI-I dom t know" stammered Jones
who had forgotten all about the barber
shop where he had doubtless left them
'.h-h-hain't got them on?'
"Why. no! and how queer you look
Did you mail my lettersp"
"Y-y-yes," gasped the wretched liar
"of course 1 did. -
Il don't believe it," said Mrs. Jones
in voice that nearly took Jones out o
his boots. ' know those letters are il
your pocket at this very moment. LIE
me feelr'
Jones had a wild thought of rushin.
out into the night and cold and leavinI
Mrs. j. to find out all she could, but h
hesitated, and the man who hesitates i
lost.
"There they are," she said, in ton
indicating that she had found roll @
million dollar bills, "and-but what
this?''
There was an awful silence. and yo
could have heard meeting house dro
as Mrs. Jones, with calmness born 9
desperation, .unfolded a piece of whit
paper and read:
ITO Madam Blank, fine French millinery, Dl
One pink satin evening bounet, $50.
| Received payment,
| SARAH BLANK & Co.
1t was the wretched piece of paper h
had picked up and which fate had helpe
him to thrust into his pocket to form on
link in this iron chain of adverse circun
stances. We will draw veil over th
subsequent hilarities of chat evening an
merely refer to the atmosphere of Betsy
and I-are-out gloom which has envelope
"no-place-like-home ever since like th
dense smoke from a glass factory. Jone
is still strong believer in manifest de-
tiny.-Detroit Post and Tribune.