Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1890-08-03

( cannot say that have any particular Curl
| osity in the matter. And you need not mem
| tion to any one that knew even as much as
that. 1 cannot recall now what made me
ask-a momentary impulse-nothing of any
conseQuenee-for in truth it matters little to
me where the young man lives. Well, good
night, Hobson-and thank you."
"Good night, SIR" said Hobson, with his
eyes dwelling lingeringly on the hot water
and whisky. But he received no invitation
(for old George Bethune was more amen
able to his granddaughter's remonstranees
than he himself was aware) and so, with
another elusive "Good night the land
lady's husband humbly withdrew.
Sometimes, after Maisrie had gone to bed,
or, at least, retired to her own room, her
grandfather would wander away out in the
streets by himself The night air was cool;
there were fewer passers-by to impede his
aimless peregrinations; sheltered BY the
dark and the dull lamplight, he could lift
up his voice and sing 'Loudon's bonnie
woods and braes," or Scam ye by Athol,"
or "There's nae Covenant now, lassle,"
when he happened to be in the mood, as he
generally was. And on this particular
evening he sailed forth; but the straight
forward direction of his steps showed that
be had an objective point He went along
Oxford street, and down Regent street; and
eventually, by way of Garrick street, Covent
Garden and the Strand, reached Fleet street,
where he stopped at building almost wholly
consisting of Offices of country newspapers.
AT this time of the night the place was at
its busiest-s hive OF industry; messengers
coming and going, the operators assidu-
Gus at the special wires, the London
correspondents constructing their letters
out Of the latest kilograms, with a little
imagination thrown in here and there to
lend color. Old George Bethune ascended
to the first floor. passed into the premises
owned by the Edinburgh Chronicle DAILY
and HeekIy) and was admitted to an inner
room, where he found Mr.. Courtnay Fox.
Now Mr.. Fox-a heavy and somewhat un.
calmly person, who rolled from side to side
as he crossed the room, and whose small
blue ewes twinkled behind his spectacles
with q sort of easy and ready sarcasm-did
not like being interrupted: but, on the other
hand, Mr.. Bethune was friend, or at least
afsvored acquaintance of the chief proprie-
tor of the Chronicle, and the London corre-
spondent was therefore bound to be civil;
so he asked the old man what he could do
for him.
''If you have anything for the Weekly"
he observed, YOU'D much better send it on
direct to Edinburgh. instead of sending il
down here. That will save one postsge-a
point which should have thought would
occur to a Scotch mind, he added, with q
bit Of half-concealed grin.
"You are always girding at Scotland, Mr..
Fox George Bethune said, good naturedly.
81? Oh, not !. I'm sure no one ad-
mires the virtues Of economy and frugality
more than 1 do. That is why am pretty
certain Shakespeare must have lived in
ScotIand-I don't mean "The rain il
raineth every day'-but "a tanner will last
you nine year. Now how could he have
learned that money could be made. to 90 50
far but by observation OF the Scotch?"
II know this" said the old man, with