The Benton weekly record. [volume] (Benton, Mont.) 1880-1885, 1883-08-18

always came off first best in these en-
counters. M'Murray, in his faultles
black clothes, with all his backing o.
wealth and Conscientious religion seemed
to feel himself thin and sour, and cowet
before him.
II WONDER" he said, with a sneer, thai
wit'' your high literary occupations, you
can spare time to besege this office as you
do
"Pon my soul, | wonder too. Now
that is precisely what my publishers say ro
me. write book, Standsh, they say
take the public between the eyes with a
knock-down blow Then those magazine
fellows in New York and Boston are cry
ing out every month for me to come to
their help. But | like to see the Old CAM
era succeed, that's the truth"
ssThe Camera is under obligations to
you.''
mot at ALL" I'm glad to help build it
up. I'ye pride-Philadelph enterprise,
sir-a pride in it,'' backing towards the
door. "What [ have here, sir" touching
his forehead, was meant for mankind, not
to barter for fame or for money By the
way, have you seen that last little thing OF
mine in the Westminister?'
''No, nor nobody else," savageIy.
"Ah, you don't take the quarterlies,
III send it to you. I'll send it to y u.
Good morning, Mr. M'Murray, good morn
ing"
"Keep that liar and braggart out of the
office, Mr.. Singer" said M'Murray, in
his coldest, ciyillest tones; for when other
men would have ragged, his sense of duty
kept him quietest He smoothed his face
before going back to the office. Young
John Proctor was there, the clergyman to
whom M'Murray's church, through his
influence had just given a call. He had
just come from the depot after two years
absence in the West, and M'Murray was
| trying to do him honor i'll his hard ungenial
way. Proctor had been sort of ward OF
| his, and it was whispered about in the
office that M'Murray would be glad to
have him now for son-in-laW This
church was his idol, and to see his only
child the wife of one of its ministers was,
| in his opinion to enclose her in the pearly
gates Of salvation while yet aliye.
1.-The office" felt as if the delicate,
bright haired little heiress would be
thrown away On Proctor. s'These penni-
! less preachers know how to feather their
nests" Singer had said but few mo-
ments before.
| Mr.. M'Murray could not forget Stan
dish when he went back to the office.
| ''Lazy old Bohemian!" he growled. IF
you want the most disreputable vices, Mr..
! Proctor always look for them in an old
man who lives by his wits"
"Who was it?"
.Standish-the Major. You know
him.
"What! There?" Proctor dashed out
! of the Office without his hat, and down the
stairs. Hello, Major" Leaving M'Mnr-
ray astonished behind him. He took up
! his pen and began to write severely. The
carnal flesh was stronger in the young
man than he had thought. Withrow out
of curiosity lounged down the stairs, and
found John at the door looking anxiously
up and down the street.
"Ah, Mr.. Withrow, do you remember
me ?-John Proctor" wringing his hand
in hearty fashion, which he used to
have when a boy, [ am looking for a
friend of mne-Major Standish.'
Eyes, Major Munchausen, we call him
in the office"
"He is friend Of mine," cody. "The
probably"
'sWithrow felt himself rebuffed, but only
for a moment. "The old fellow had cock
loft over warehouse somewhere. Where
he cooks for himself How he lives, God
knows. He has nothing now but the odd
jobs we give him here in the office. He's
had nothing from us for two weeks"
sis he alone? There was little girl,
or woman, rather?'' Proctor hesitated.
The story of the old Major and Madeline
was something that he could not drag out
before this fellow.
"Niece, or something? She lives in
some country town, now, believe. and
colors photographs. "A great artist, the
Major says. She's a dull girl, fancy.
Women without brains have to scratch
GARD for living nowadays"
Mr.. Proctor did not care to enter into
the woman question. He stood whistling
under his breath with some queer ideas in
his clerical head, which Mr.. Withrow
would have hardly thought befitted it.
They grew out Of the remembrance Of
those Saturday afternoons, when, for year
after year, he used to escape from board
ing school and repair to that same cockloft
over the warehouse, there to feel himself
gipsy or Crusoe for few hours. What
a vagabond. uncertain life it was. The
poverty, the shifts, the fun, the mex
tinguishable jollity and tender love under
it all. What prince the Major and Mad
cline made of him saving all the week to
compass the Sundays roast chicken and
cranberry tart. Proctor had never known
father or mother. His ideas of love and
home were all drawn from poor Standish
and his crazy management. So strong
| xy.c tbic hoviSh instinct in him inst now