The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1888-02-12

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was that of suffering Jesuit, but his heart
was as warm and tender as child's, and
his imagination tuned with quaint and
funny conceits which never ran dry and
yet were never in excess of the demand. You
had to learn how to take him (which you
could do only if you yourself had certain
human and enlightened qualities) and there
after he was inexhaustibly good company.
The women who knew him thought of him
as brother and to children he appeared
like father But Miss Bette Clsverhouse,
the typewriter at Cowran's, was simply
in love with him; and that, of course, was
different.
Talbot's friends were not numbered by
hundreds, nor even by scores, for he was
not club man or a frequenter of fashion
able society; but there were one or two fell
lows whom he liked aud who liked him, and
one of these was young gentleman by the
name of Cunliffe. The attentive reader has
already heard of Frank Cunliffe but has
not yet been regularly introduced to him.
Cunliffe and Talbot were so different from
each other, and lived in such alien regions,
that 1t is necessary to account for their
knowing each other.
Frank Cunliffe was the son of a rich man
who lost nearly all he had soon after Frank
got through college. This was awkward
for the old gentleman, of course, and he did
uOI lOllB survive IT, DuG III was also dNk-
ward for the son, because he had been
brought up in luxury and with no expecta-
ton of being obliged to work for living.
TO make matters worse, he was not ab>o-
lutely obliged to work for a living, though
his acquaintance all said that he ought to
do so. His fathers estate, when settled,
yielded an income which just enabled him
to pay his dues at his club and his annual
bill at his tailor's.
4 .
are considered rather lucky by the victims
of them comes to be written, this particu-
lar species of misfortune will occupy a
prominent place in it. 1t enables man to
command some of the luxuries of life but
few or none of its comforts He puts the
ability to work and recognizes in the alb
stract that work would better his condition,
but he is reluctant to break with the tradi-
tons of gentility and to admit what he
would call the bridesmaids spirit; and be-
sides, among the many things which he
knows he could do, it is difficult to decide
which would be best worth doing. Mean
while there is the club and the social whirl-
ing continually revolving, and the human
UiS inerti0e-emphasize very likely, by
temperamental disposition to incidence
and it is really no wonder that these poor
fellows never come to anything. Nor is
their fate always merely relative; occa-
they fall into some snare or other and then
they are forlorn indeed. They hang on, by
hook or by crook, as long as they can and
at last disappear, and no one asks after
them for fear of hearing something I'M
pleasant.
Frank Cunliffe had not got beyond the
negative stage. Perhaps he was trifle to
windward even Of that. He had had
a dramatic instinct in him from boy
and had several times seriously considered
the question of going on the stage. He was
sure that he would have made great sue
cess of it; and possibly he might have
trained himself into a tolerable actor. He
had a good figure and presence; ne was
handsome enough aud his voice was full and
clear, and agleeably modulated for an
American. He knew a great many actors,
and several actresses; he was regular first
nighter at all the theaters, but somehow he
never entered the profession, and he had the
good sense not to indulge in amateur theat-
ricals. One thing he did do. After some
years, he wrote, more for lark than in
earnest, a criticism of play that had just
been produced, and sent it to a daily paper.
The regular dramatic critic of this paper
happened on that day to be suffering from
an attack of spirituus frumenti, and had not
come to time with his copy; the editor
printed Cunliffe's, had an interview with
him, and offered him a regular engage
ment. Cunliffe hemmed and hawed and
finally accepted it on condition that his
secret should be kept. So he wrote under
an assumed name, and everybody for
whose sake he had assumed it knew the
secret Immediately; the public read the
criticisms, which we're clever, and neither
knew nor cared who "Faust, Jr.," was.
Cunliffe's salary enabled him to smoke $50
cigars, instead of SIS ones, as heretofore.
However, he became something of a
power in the theatrical world, and at
length an opportunity occurred to put this
power to some practical use. Cunliffe had
young relative-a second cousin once re-
moved, or something of that kind-who
possessed an unusually good contralto voice,
and had learned now to use it. Though
winning to the ear, this young lady was not
correspondingly attractive to the eye. She
had light hair, dull complexion. gray
eyes, and irregular features. She was fat
chested and could not walk gracefully. She
was an orphan, poor and ambitious. She
wrote letter to Cunliffe, and asked him to
help her get an engagement to sing in con-
cert.
Cunliffe had never seen her. He called
on her, and at the first glimpse was com
pletely discouraged She chatted with him
awhile, and he discovered that she was en-
pertaining and original. She sat down at
her piano and sang TO MIN, and he told her
to put on her bonnet and come with him 20
the impresario's. The emotional gamut
through whic the nlpresario passed was
repetition OF Clanlffes experience When
the girl had sung to him, he engaged her at
a higher salary than she or her cousin had
anticipated; and then he set himself to
solve the problem to making her Qor public
purposes better looking.
Her head was square and rather too
large, but it was full of solid sense, and in
stead of being offended at the impresario's
criticisms of her personal appearance, she
received them cordially and arcbly, ana en-
tered into his suggestions and perplexities
with earnest and helpful sympathy. AS for
her figure, that was an easy matter Any
thing can be made of figure, provided it is
not too fat to begin with-as this young
lady's was not.
1--WE will assume that you are provided
with a perfect figure" said the impresario,
but now for your face"
"Ahl that will tax your magic" re-
marked the lady, with kindly compassion ;
but at any rate ! can have a wig"
"rhe hair will not be impossible" the
impresario replied; land when you have
your new complexion, | do not despair of
your eyes-with eyebrows OF course. But
your nose and Inoutn--they are really--in
fact they are"
The lady laughed, showing a row of .ex-
cellent teeth, and interrupted him.
"Ihey are terrible, know; but hear me