The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1888-03-07
A DERNIER RESSORT,
BY MARGARET EYTINGE.

BY MARGARET EYTINGE.
A middle-aged man was walking up
the street of little country town one
afternoon in early June. 1t was quiet
tree-shaded, grass-grown street, and the
man, as he walked along with iaunty,
swinging step, seemed wonderfully wide
awake in contrast to it. He was a we'll
preserved man, who must have been very
good looking, if not positively hand
some, in his youth. He was dressed IN
gray suit of fashionable cut and wore
his silk hat slightly tipped on one side
Of his abundant, brown curly hair. This
brown, curly hair was very lightly
touched with gray here and there, so
lightly, indeed, as to not be perceptible
to the careless observer In his right
hand, which was firmly held against the
small of his back, he grasped heavy,
gold-headed cane. He glanced from
side to side, as he walked at the win
dows of the cottages with the air of one
who had been used to, and still expects
to, catch the admiring glances of peep
ing women. And in this expectation he
was not wholly disappointed, for from
1t least half dozen doors and as many
windows he caught their glances, though
they were really more of wonder than
admiration; albeit, be chose only to
admit the latter.
"By Jovew said he to himself, in a
drawing tone, as, the last cottage passed,
he emerged into the highway again and
came in sight of picturesque old black.
smiths shop, before which stood an i'm
mense weeping willow, chow little the
place has changed. What a sleepy old
town it is. l don't believe there have
been twenty buildings added to it since
left hele nearly quarter of a century
ago. And there's the smithy, just the
same as when worked there in a grimy
apron-paughl" And then stepping
across to the shop where man of about
his own age "a stout, round faced, merry
looking fellow was welding hammer
with mighty force, striking brave sparks
from the horse shoe he was fashioning
and singing loudly the while to the
musical clink, clink, clink that answered
his blows. ''IIallo! Jim Farlow," said
the new conner in louder and quicker
tone than that in which he had spoken
to hi self, but it was not until Jim
Fa'low as touched upon the shoulder
by the gray kidded hand that the loud
singing and musical clinking ceased, and
the blacksmith turned slowly about and
grave regarded his visitor with no hint
of recognition in his honest blue ewes.
"Why, Jim, don't you know me2"
asked he of the gray suit. "Surely you
haven't forgotten lack Palmer2"
g. ack Palmer" repeated the black.
smith. ''Be you Jack Palmerl If you
be you don't look much like the J ack
Palmer that used to work aside of me at
this very forge"
'But am all the same" said Palmer,
Though | fancy city life has removed ali
trace OF the country youth. That is, all
trace of his rusticity. Iflatter myself
some Of his good looks still remain. Hey,
Jim2"
To this speech, made with self satis-
fed smile, Jim replied by another ques.
4ion: Il s'pose you invested that money
sos you made heap out of it2"
swell, 1 did at first answered
Palmer, "but the heap soon dwindled
away. 1t was on y thirty thousand in
the first place, you know"
''Only thirty thousandm replied Jim
with grim chuckle; ''w'y wen YOU fust
heard of it thought you'd 90 c'ean
daft. l swan did. Thirty tho lsand, ;
says YOU to me a-tearin' of your apron
thirty thousand fur me that never got
thlrts dollars together since the day I
were born an that's six an twenty year
ago. Thirty thousand, says you ="
eyes, yes," interrupted his compan-
ion hastily; ~ suppose it did look like q
large sum to me then, but when one lives
in great city and associates with
wealthy people it soon begins to look
like very small one, and by .Jove! it
and all made by it rot less and less MS
the yealS went on until | am actua ly
down to my last hundred"
g. own to !our last hundred.m echoed
Jim farl"w. well. You must have
lived hish. And now, if make so free
as to ask, what have YOU come back here
for? on surely ain't a lookin' . " and
glancin@ at The kid gloves he broke out
into 10 dgu aw-''you surely amt a
eookiu' for a job at the old smithy
again"
"Pshaw! Nonsense" replied the other
half angriiy. and then he resumed, in
his former drawling tone, "Old Corbett's
dead, hear, and left Ruth all his prop
erty. Must worth tidy little sum-"
1T is wo~th a tidy little sum and she's
atiGy lite woman" asserted the black
smith with emphasis.
up amer than ever, though, suppose
Naturally such homely girls make still
homelier old ma ds."
Il neve" thought her homely, nor
neither did any one else but YOU, I guess,
Palmer and you didn't think so till you