The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1886-07-04
lrsinssd ~ Special Arron0ement- Copyrighted 1856
ASI'RANCD SETTLEMENT
6ntAor Of Lost IN TIE Fog and n5aeroa. stories IN the
cenfary, Harperss, etc.
IcoxcLuDED FROM LAST suNDAY.l

for the winter was now long past, I was strucl
by the air of ezasperating sameness that hae
settled on everything My friends were accus
toned to say that ..old Chester had heap o.
taste and plenty of cash to make beautiful his
den withal. but now the pictures, the bric-a
brac and all my familiar belongings had taken on
look of age. Their infinite variety had withered
Even my beloved books we're inexpressibly
wearisome to behold. hated the place. And
as / lifted my eyes to an efigy of the pious Con
fucius in old blue, the venerable sage grinned
down on me from his shelf as if to say Human
Joys are like the skippings of sparrow"
With only vague notion of what was about,
] rose from the easy chair into which had sunk
on entering, and mechanically began to pack a
SFavelirg-b bag. Then hesitated and asked my.
self why l should pack a traveling-bag. II
seemed utterly absurd I did not propose a
journey. Ny hand struck big pile of letters
that had accumulated during the day. Without
perusing them, read them, dimly comprehend
ing what saw. They were of the regulation
type of social spondence-inyitations re-
quests for autographs applications for letters OF
introduction and recommendation, notices of my
election to places of barren honor, tickets for
charitable raree shows, begging letters, noti6ca-
lions Of social obligations falling due, and so on.
why can't they leave me aloneg" l cried
angrily. Then, with smile at my own pstu-
aapce flung the mass into a waste: basket and
went on packing my portmanteau.
Money! Certainly / should need money.
luckily, had considerable sum that should
have deposited that day. / had been too dis
pirited. I took it all in wad of notes and
erammed it into the bag. Then turned off
the gas threw my latch-key in the direction of
old blue Confucius grinning on his lonely shelf,
slammed tho door behind me and walked delib-
erately down the stairs and out into the deserted
streets.
Ny impression is that for the next few hours
] rode up and down the elevated railway From
Harlem to the Battery, and from the Battery to
Harlem by rail, is not wholly monotonous jour
ney. / have often travelled the route when sore
distraught in time of trouble
Then crossed the ferry and bought through
Acket for ST. Louis. Why st. Louis, cannot
Rsll. The name printed on bill board in large
letters seemed to me holy Catholic name, more
Or less suggestive of monasteres and restfulness
The train moved out OF the station and we sped
westward, ever westward with whirling wheels
u felt as if / had been pursued and had eluded
my pursuers. A feeling Of citation grew upon
me as we darted onward. looked at the mat
Ter of fact and commonplace people about me
and Rugged myself with the thought that they
could not possibly guess that l was running
away; that was fugitive who had committed
no crime but for whom there would presently be
. hue-and-cry. / was ready to rise up in my
place and propose some extravaganza, just as I
have seen some club fellow flown with wine
dare his comrades to preposterous lark.
I took no note of time but the day was far
spent, and had knitted on the ravelled edge of
. nights WEAKNESS with sundry maps in my
chair, when, at way station, among the pass
engers that entered the train, to my great vexa-
tion, recognized Manning I had congratulated
myself on looking around, that of all the thou
sands of people whom / knew, not one on
the train with me. And here was one who not
only knew me, but would carry the tidings that
be had met me- It was impossible to avoid him.
Entering the car, he made straight for me, just
rs if he expected to see me. Sitting down beside
me- he began easy conversation, as if our
meeting was the most natural thing in the world
l wondered why he did not ask me where I
was going until reflected that my ticket, stuck
in the strap of my portmanteau, sufficiently ad-
gertised my destination. There was nothing
mysterious about Manning. He was common
place in looks; was short. thick-set, with full
and forid face. kindly beaming blue eyes, no
heard, and slight and sandy mustache. He
spoke IN an exquisitelv modulated and low tone
Of voice. and there was certain favor of Bos-
ton in his speech (he pronounced it ''Bawston'l
that always pleased me much. And so when he
began just where we left off in our last CONVEX
sation, as it seemed to me. was very glad he
had become my fellow-traveler.
"Oh yes" he was saying. social life in big
sity must be very wearing on mans vitality.
So many calls on his time and attention. Do you
know sometimes think that there can be very
little genuine friendship among city menq That
IS, of course among those who are in the swim,
70 they call it."
''As tor me, / said, with tinge Of sadness in
my heart 1.-The best man-friend had in New
York was poor old Crosby He was no society
man. Not so much as was"
'Wasr repeated Manning. after me. ''Was?
You speak as if that were all in the past Have
you foreaworn societyg ! know you used to
threaten you would
''Mr Manning" I said. with as much selmnity
rs was capable of, 80 far as consistent with
my obligations to my fellow men, / shall go into
society as little IS possible; and into the swim.
never. Social dissipation and | are OUT
Manning smiled quietly, and then relapsed
into a long reverie, it seemed to me, during
which I gazed out of the windows in a moody
Irame of mind Manning was disinclined to
iaIk. He appeared distracted. And, without
knowing why, I fancied that he was embar-
fassed.
Presently no reused himself. with q quea
lion; Going to stay long in St Louisl"
1t was my turn to be- embarrassed. Bus /
laughed lightly, and told him that was foot