Alpena weekly argus. [volume] (Alpena, Mich.) 1871-1893, 1884-10-22

= u yes j. he friend of yonrs?"
On, only met him when staying in
the country last Christmas; AMI think.
Harry, he liked me better than l. did
him.
"Well,' continued Crofton, II went
there to meet cousin of his, and to
give her message from him, but l
have n shrewd idea this Is one of his
practical jokes he Is always playing"
"But, tell me, how were you to know
this young lady. Harry?" said Lillian.
"He showed ma photograph by
which | was TO recognize her."
was II that of a pretty girl with a
large hat and feather, with fan in her
handv said Lillian with a smile.
"Ihe very same,n said Crofton.
"Ihen, Harry, you are quite right, it
was practical joke. for that was Par
ker's photograph which sent to tho
mysterious Mr.. ii. G. And now, Harry
dear, it's not bit of use getting angry
about IL, for we were both sold a little
and IL has ended very happily for you
ana me; and so we will make n promise
not TO chaf one another in the future
for the parts we have each played in tho
strange little Comedy of Errors"
need hardly say Croiton sealed the
bargain with kiss.
when Harry next returned TO Brazen-
lace the October term had begun. Port
Meadow was flooded, the elms outside
IT. Johns were rapidly losing their
leaves, and the creeper on st. Mary's
porch was in all the glory of its autumn
foliage. Crofton arrived, first day of
term, just in time for "hall,n and us he
was finishing his dinner, the scout who
waited on the third-year table handed
him the following brief epistle, scrawlcd
on the back of the dinner-bill
of Dear INA halIngar9omComo TO my rooms directly
So after "hall," Crofton went
straight to Hornby's rooms, and found
him uncorking bottle of college port;
and over this bottle, soothed by the
fragrant weed, Harry Crofton told
Horribly the story of his love, the whole
talc-how it had happened, and what
very lucky dog he was. He had just
finished his narrative, when knock
came at the door and in walked Meth
ven, just arrived.
''IIow dye do, Jackp Hillo, Kanga-
roo, how arc YOU, old chapp" he began.
But, somehow, tho look on Crofton's
face Methven had never seen before,
and what's more, didn't like it,
However, he continued, swell, did
You meet my cousin, ehP Come, come,
old chap, you must really forgive me;
1t was beastly shame. l own"
''Now, look here" said Crofton,
quictly--and there was an ugly look i'm
his eyes, and firmness in his jaw that
made Methven unconsciously creep
near the door--"I don't want to have
row with any man, much less in Jack
Hornby's rooms. But l tell you plain
ly, think it was awfully low of you to
take advantage of my good-naturc in
the way you did strongly advise you
for the future, if you ike a whole skin,
not to try the game on again. l may
tell you, your scheme entirely failed,
and it's entirely through your attempt
at hoax l have become engaged to the
incest little girl in England"
REALLY" said Methven with sheer,
'then l think the least you can do is to
introduce us, rs she may possibly like
to make the acquaintance of the uncon-
scious author of her happiness.
"Pcrhaps she might" replied Croft
ton, quietly, elf she hadn't unfortu-
natcly made it before. Goodnight,
Jack, and so saying he left the room.
There Methven," said Hornby, -
knew quite well some row would come
of this hoax of yours"
"Well, tell me what happened, Jack,
if you know"
Thercupon Horribly told the whole
story, from beginning to end; when he
had finished, Mcthven said:
Il wonder who the girl was, and
when and where she met me-"
"Of course | can't tell you the lat
te'," said Horribly, as he walked up to
the chimney-piece to refill his pipe, "but
her name. if ! remember rightly, is Miss
Lillian West"
Horribly heard sharp groan, and on
looking around saw Methven as white
rs Il sheet with his head buried in his
hands.
GOOD God, man, what's upp" cried
Hornby.
ooh Jack" said Methvcn, chats
the very girl loved myself. l met her
last Christmas in the country, and |
would have sold my very soul for her!
And now," lie continued. with a SOB,
"an now she's lost forever" With
these words he walked out, leaving
Hornby to ponder deeply on the strange
ironyAOf fate.
Two years have rolled on, Lillian West
is now the wife Of Henry Croiton, b. A.,
of Brazcnfacc College, Oxford. And
Mcthven has long since como TO the
conclusion that there safer modes of
playing practical jokes on ones friends
than by inserting in the papers fictitious
matrimonial advertisements. d. Ran
daL, is Time.