The Brookhaven leader., 1883-06-07
THE LETTER THAT WENT WRONG
A Poor Mans Experience In Chicago In
the Panic of 1873.

A Poor Mans Experience In Chicago In
the Panic of 1873.
Mr.. John Olson, awell-to-do business
man. was at his Office engaged in open
ing and reading letters. Mr.. Olson had
made the long journey from his resi-
dence TO his place of business in very
comfortable frame of mind. The steady,
cold rain had kept many people at
home, and he had had a seat in the car
all the way down, a something that did
not occur very often. With his whis-
kers still damp from the short walk
from the point where he left the car to
his office, with his feet comfortably near
the fire in the CRATE, with the drafts,
money-orders and bank notes turning
up frequently in his letters, Mr.. Olson
was happier, possibly, than if no storm
had been raging outside. The contrast
caused him to feel delightfully."- secure in
his comfort, and he smoked his morning
cigar and leisurely read letter after letter.
Mr.. Olsen was an enthusiastic and
energetic business man, but there were
times when he liked to take things easy,
and this morning was one of them. He
could not recall a morning, as he read a
letter inclosing check for fifty dollars,
when he had felt more inclined to take
his ease, or enjoy his cigar and fire and
easy chair. The next letter, opened
laZily and with eyes half shut, did not
contain any money, and the opening
words, my dear Husband, caused a
general change of attitude on the part
of the reader.
mistake. Not for me-" thought Mr..
Olson, as he looked again at the address
on the envelope. Eyes, it is. John
Olson, Esq, plain as.the nose on a man S
face. And Olson is not a common
name. Our family was the only one in
our State, in the East, and since we
came here, seven or eight months ago,
have not heard of a man of the name.
Let's look at the signature.
This was the tenor of Mr.. Olson
thoughts, as he took up the letter again,
turned to the last page and read: "Your
loving wife, Mary j. Olson"
MY wife's name. What's my wife
writing to me for?" questioned the
man, in a confused way, and for the
moment entertaining only the thought
that the letter was from his wife, he was
reading:
My DEAR HUsBAND-I have not the heart to
write much. 1t is all trouble here. | am dis
tressed beyond endurance. The men came
last night and took away the sewing machine,
and talked horribly to me because l insisted
we had paid twenty dollars, when they said
we had only paid five dollars, and ! am sure
you told me twenty dollars. / never thought
men could talk to me as they did. Then the
man who owns the house abused me and
threatened me, and even our old butcher and
grocer have bullied and insuted me. l have
no money-not a cent, when pay postage on
md fc ccxanr rnAIWr t.af
house to eat. L tried to pawn my bracelets
and pin this morning, and the man offered me
three dollars for them and you know they cost
fifty dollars. And he bullied me, and l
thought should go distracted. Oh. it is ter
rible, John. l don't see why all the bad luck
comes to us; while others prosper. l wish l
little money, If it's only dollar, and tell me
MARY J. OLSON.
Mr.. John Olson, of the easy chair,
was shocked beyond measure He
pushed the letters with money aside for
his book-keeper, and thinking the man
to whom the letter was addressed must
be found Immediately (Mr. Olson had
resolved to go to him, explain how the
letter came into his possession, and help
him, if need be- he called:
Mr.. Bradford, take the directory
and see how many Olsons there are in
town, will you?''
Mr.. Bradford, from behind his high
desk, in the next room, said: "Yes,
SIR, and there was quiet. Mr.. Olson
had been married two years. Here was
a woman who wrote almost as good a
hand as his wife-in fact, the writing
of the two was very much alike-desti-
tute and desperate. He could not i'm
agine what his wife would do under
like circumstances, and yet, with bank
rupt firms all about him, he understood
that present prosperity afforded little
guarantee against poverty. He abso-
lutely shivered as he thought of the lit
tie woman who had followed him to the
door that morning to kiss him and eau
ton him about going down the steps
and about getting on the cars-he shiv-
cred as he thought of her, desperate
and destitute, and subjected to rude
ness, and he was shaking his fist, men
tally, at the offending ruffians, when
the crisp voice of Mr.. Bradford ejacu-
lated with statistical bluntness: 1.-TWO
hundred and seventy-five, sir.'
"What do you meanp' questioned
the unrealizing Mr.. Olson.
THAT there are two hundred and
seventy-fve Olsons in town, SIR"
"What?"
There was so much astonishment in
this tremendous "what" that Mr.. Brad
ford came forward to explain.
"How many John Olsons?" ques-
toned the thunderstruck owner of the
much-used name.
1.-Two, four, eight, twelve, sixteen,
twenty, twenty-four-no twenty-three,
sir. Two artists, one blacksmith, four
carpenters, five clerks, two book-keep-
ers, one glazier, seven laborers, two mer-
chants and
"That will do. Let me take the di-
rectory, please"
One glance at the directory convinced
MIR. Olson that Mr.. Bradford had stated
the case correctly. He looked at the
long list of 0lsons in stupid astonish-
ment, not unmixed with Indignation.
= Here was muddle. How could he
find the right man in such town. He
settled one question, however. He in
closed five dollars in a sheet of blank
paper. and putting this in an evelope
mailed II at once TO the unfortunate
Mary j.. Olson, saying to himself that
he would look up Mr.. John Olson at his
leisure. He returned the letter to the
post-ofiiee, with the Endorsement,
Opened by mistake by John Olson,
20 Blank street and forgot the man
for the day.