The Anaconda standard. [volume] (Anaconda, Mont.) 1889-1970, 1889-11-23
THE TRAGEDY or A rALusMAN.

n scsss IN the whiss aoass the Night ef
the Recoot Ele1esoas.
1t was night i'm the white house. says the
New York Ssn. The only sound was the
scarcely audible click-tick that family
smote the ear with monotonous regularity.
This came not frona the corner clock. for
that had stopped at 2:aD, nor was 10 the
note Of q d~eath-watch nested here
The ticking proceeded from a telegraph
instrument, which had been struggling for
hours to tell the full story of disaster.
Night in the white house, but n
night! Hours earlier the faithful 'LiRe
had stolen OF to bed, CONTRASTING that his
click-tick OF the demon magnet.
One by one the mbe of the
little group had departed, each
ON tiptoe and without "A word OF
bchind him, as friends do when they pass
mutely out of the presence of one greatly
afflicted. Wapanaker only had turned
tended to express all the offices of Chris
tian consolation. hut IL was not noticed or
o appfs sS,. s;cE- H i;.t.,ick nov 10Y , S%wsr SSaen ssi
instrument. Even the voice of baby Nc
Kec was huslled i'm the awful stiffness Of
n quarter tn & i'm the morning.
Night i'm the white house and one man
awake and alone. He sat i'm "a great easy
chair, his elbows ON It's arms and his head
~clawinR fingers. His figurs: was rather
imposing as he sat in the chair, but when
With s1 r%es sR ana sre nes' Il might nj mi' he ' ns.er @"I
that his legs were uncommonly short for
his size.
was evidently the contamination of a pur~
pose long deliberated i'm that midnight
agony,
met of carved oak between the
OF the room. With u small key of curious
lDArtnlAnt and took thSIxsfrDnl AN amor
pho,is and rather bulky parcel i'm tissue
paper. tied with "a pink string. He ner-
after layer of the overlapping substance.
Then "a faint nl,isty odOr stole out into
the room, as when one opens a long-closcd
chest in some back garrett. and the man
held i'm his hands u shabby black hat of
cylindrical shape and Of the fashion of
He glared ficrcely for a at this
inaniInate and unresisting object, then
placed it on the floor and, stepping back "a
hat.
"D-n you!" were his exact words.
C~ording angel. i'm noting the circumstance,
Benjamin Harrison's first damn forever
The telegraph instrument licked once
or twice and all was still again.. The hat
crouched helpless at the feet of it's owner.
Its very helplessness was u mute appeal,
hut the fury of the man grew as lac cOi-
tcrnplated the grotesque, old-fashioned
OBJECT.
"Tickclick-tick. tick, tick"-he started
and looked around him as il he devil
himself had Just whispered i'm his ear the
suggestion of "a terrible deed.
Then, with his features distorted almost
beyond recognition by an uncomfortable
passion, his limbs quivcring with the inn
pulse of "a deadly purpose, BenjimanH arri-
son, twenty-thirsi president of the United
States. suddenly shot up into the air with
AN agility surprising i'm so short-leeged n
person, and descended heels down, square
ON the top of the doomed relic and dis
carsled talisrnan.
And as the shape and soul went together
out of the once venerated form, AS il was
crushed down into an wad
of ~pasteboard. hide. and hair, an agon-
izing cry was heard through the corridors
of the white house. Was IL the soul of the
murdered talislnan, or was IL only Baby
Mckee Weakened by dream or collie!