St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1888-01-01
A JAIL-BIRD'S WOOING.

just at the close of bleak and dreary
day in early winter, at street corner in
the residence section of the city of
Brooklyn, a young, vigorous and hand
some man was supporting gray-haired,
rather feeble-looking old gentleman,
who otherwise must have fallen to the
ground.
Night was fast approaching, and a
blue wreath of pistol smoke above their
heads was barely diStinguiShable in the
twilight.
Are you hurt, sir?" 1t was the
younger one who spoke.
81 can't say; don't think sO," an
Swered his companion.
Lean on my arm; you seem weak.
The villain appears to be making good
his escape" AS the young man spoke
he pked down the thoroughfare, where
the neeing figure of man was discern
IDLE, turning the corner of the next
street.
'You have saved my life," murmured
the old man family; ''but for your
strong hand and clear head l would
have fallen, the victim of an asSassin's
bullet"
Il did knock up his arm at about
the last moment to have availed you.
But what could have been the object of
his murderous assault?''
Robbery, make no doubt" replied
the old gentleman, ''fOr Pm quite GER
tain that I've not an enemy in the
world"
AT this juncture one of those conserv-
atorS of the peace known as policemen
entered upon the scene and inquired
who had fired the shot.
ga large man, with smooth face and
dressed in dark clothes and stiff hat"
answered the old gentleman. 81 can't
give you any better description, but |
got good view of his face and would
know him among thousand. He at
tempted to take my life, and tut for the
timely interference of this brave young
man would doubtless have succeeded.
Report the matter at headquarters at
once and have the detectives set at
work. You know where L live, don't
you?"
Very well, indie d, Mr.. Hapgood,
replied the officer, and this gentle
man"
''Can be found through me-" inter-
rupted the elder man. ''You will ac-
company me home, my young friend?"
certainly, sir,' answered the young
man; there, take my arm; you will
walk better So"
81 can never properly thank you for
what you have done tonight" said Mr..
Hapgood, as they walked slowly along.
"DOn't mention it, sir, beg of you"
saved my life, and at the riSk-the immi-
nent riSk-of your own. l expected to
see the ScOundrel shoot you. But you
have not yet told me your name."
"My name, sir, is Clifford, John Cliff
ford, and am clerk in the New York
poStOffice. l live in Brooklyn with my
aged mother, and was on my way home
when your cry of help attracted my at
tention, and l turned the corner just in
time to arrest the murderer'S hand"
MIR. Clifford" said the old man ear
nestly, 81 am pleased in you to find a
young man struggling for advancement
in the world. l have been through it
all and know how to sympathiZe with
you. But here we are at my residence"
And they stopped in front of stately,
old-fashioned mansion with broad steps
and high porch. "You must come in
and dine with me. wish to present
you to my daughter Alice. my only
child, that she may join me in thanking
the man who has done me such noble
service"
81 thank you, Mr.. Hapgood," said
Clifford, bowling politely, but fear I
must decline your hospitality this even
Ing, and postpone the pleasure of NEE =
ing your daughter. The fact is that my
mother is awaiting me. [ am always
punctual in arriving home, and l fear
that she will be much worried if I am
long delayed. It's very awkward, sir,
and l am very sorry"
"No, sir" broke in Mr.. Hapgood, sit
is not awkward. 1t is fit and proper.
Filial affection is the nOblest thing in
our imperfect natures. have daugh-
ter who loves me, and can appreciate
your feelings. 60 to your home and
the supper your loving mother has pre-
pared for you; you will no doubt enjoy
it better han you would my fine dinner.
But you must warn your mother not to
expect you home early tomorrow, as
you must dine and spend the evening
with me. Go now, as would not for
the world cause the worthy lady mo-
ment's anxiety"
"rhank you, sir. I will call at this
hour tomorrow. Good evening"" And,
shaking Mr.. Hapgood's hand, Clifford
hurried away.
A month later, young man of about
siX-and-twenty, large and finely formed,
with a handsome, intellectual face,
Harry Winters by name, was seated in
Mr.. Hapgood's elegant parlor.
''GoOd morning, Harry" saiu the
owner of the mansion, abruptly enter
ing the apartment.
''Good morning, SIR" said the young
man, rising and advancing. Il have
called to beg moments conversation
with you in private"
Certainly, Harry; come into the Ii
brary," said Mr.. Hapgood, entering that
apartment, and mOtioning the young
man to a seat near him.
''Mr. Hapgood," began Harry, 81
have known you from my boyhood, and
for five years have been a constant
visitor at your house. In these five
winsome child to beautiful and accom-
pliShed woman, and have learned, sir
mo hard task-to love her devotedly.
You know my family, my condition and
prospects in life. What l ask is no
small thing-the hand of your daughter
in marriage"
Harry Winters bowed and sat down,
while Mr.. Hapgood sprang to his feet.
"What is this?" he said eXcitedly, al
most savagely. 'sMarry my daughter
why. you can't mean it!'' Then, soften
ing in his manner, he advanced to the
young mans chair and grasped his
hand. "You must pardon my abrupt
ness, Harry, but was taken by sur
prise. Have you gained my daughters
consent before seeking miner"
mo, sir" answered Winters. 81
could not in honor do that, but l must
admit she knows my love for her, and
that have reason to hope that it is not
unrequited."
AS Harry spoke the old man turned
pa and sank back in his chair.
'.This is unfortunate" lie murmu!ed,
"most unfortunate. You are an honor
able young man, Harry. / love you
sadly to say it, you cannot marry my
daughter"
'.And why not, Mr.. Hapgood? Pray
tell me why not?"
Because she is promised to another"