The Arkansaw traveler., 1888-01-07
HOW AMELIA WAS CAP
 TURED.
Texas Siftincs

impatlentiy walking up and down the platform at Paris railroad station, waiting for the 7:30 express train, received a tremendous thump on the back. I turned around, and To and behold it was my friend Jacques.
 w here arc you going?" he asked.
 "To Nice"
 ''I am going to Nice, too"
 "That is first rate. We will travel together"
 The train had in the meantime ar rived, and as we went to take our places in the coupe, we passed the postal car.
 ''I shouldn't like to be employed in one of those postal cars with all those dirty letter bags. They have to stand up all the time, too. should think they would be tired out" remarked
 "Yes, it is not agreeable to travel in one of those cars. 1 travelled two hundred miles i'll one of them once and don't think l ever suffered as much in my life"
 "IIow did that happen?"
 'It's a right funny story. Let us get our places, and then I'll tell you all about it."
 We got into the coupe, and Jacques told the following yarn, which l think is worth repeating.
 "At the time to which refer," said Jacques, Il was acquainted with a certain blonde countess. You knew her, because several times l caught you trying to tiirt with her. She was living at that time at her villa near Var. Her name is Amelia. We used to write to each other daily. l wrote to keep her thoroughly informed of the fact that l loved her madly. She wrote to me because life is very tedi- ous out in the country, and she had to do something to xiii time Her letters were rather cold, and I was much afraid that she was not going to make much of an effort to reciprocate my affections. Just at this crisis I was carrying on a correspondence of pretty much the same character with another lady whose name was not Amelia, but Louisa, and who was living in Nor mandy"
 "A nice nan you are."
 'It is the prerogative of innocence to project the initiatory boulder" re- sponded Jacques, lighting cigarette
 ''l suppose you mean to quote that 'he who is without sin among you should cast the first stone.'"
 "Just so," resumed Jacques. Miss Louisa, this Normandy correspondent of mine, was no countess. Neither was she blonde. We had reached that point in our correspondence when she felt it incumbent on her to inform me almost every day that she loved me for myself alone. replied very coolly and indifferently, for was desirous of giving her no encouragement what ever. l was trying to give Louisa what is known as the celd shake, but wanted to do it genteelly, as a gen. tleman should"
 ''I presume the countess is the one that had the most money" remarked cynically.
 You are a good guesser. The countess was very wealthy, and Louisa was not. Poor Louisa did hate to go back on her. It was not her fault, nor mine either, for that matter, that she was impecunious. There was something about her looks that reminded me of the countess" :" and Jacques sighed heavily.
 "What has all this got to do with the postal carr"
 "You shall hear. Both of these cor respondents of mine had the mania to send me orders to fill. Hardly day nooon1 haf 1sl lx.x something and mail it to them. I was at Paris, you know, and they were in the country. was eternally hunt ing up samples of dress goods and sending them by mail.
 "Weli, one morning I got two let ters. One full of love and devotion from Louisa. She also wanted TIC to pick out a sample of merino and send it to her. The other letter was from the countess. It was a very gossipy sort of document, but there was nothing gushing about it. She also desired me to pick out some samples of silks, and mail them to her. Louisa was merino, and the countess was silk, with big s. That was the difference between them.
 Il immediately sat down and com- posed two love letters-one of them, however, without much love in it. The other letter-the one to the Countess Amelia-was running over with affection and hints at suicide. The one to Louisa was philosophical and non-committal very much SO, indeed. As I had something to attend to, hurried to dry goods store. se-