Daily tobacco leaf-chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 1890-1895, 1890-06-25
JOHN LONG.


eral years and considerable money at col
lege, and had wasted some months in a
business office, he had employed himself
as campaign speaker in far off state
first on one side, but finally ON the other.
After the election, when he had used all
the money he had made and all he could
borrow at home, he had tramped to Gin
cinnati for miles, and borrowed hundred
dollars of his uncle. Then, with haFum-
scarum chum, he projected magazine
The prospectus was brilliant; after the
first number the editors left the city, John
going home and the chum into sanctuary
to develop some new scheme.
The new scheme developed. 1t took the
shape of a school for boys-the Kentucky
classical college, it was to be called. The
chum aforesaid furnished the capital this
time. John procured the degrees of A. NJ.
and Phi. D., they got out glowing cata-
logue, and the Kentucky classical college
opened with fine prospects on Sept. II. BY
Oct two boys had come. They were
graduated with honors on the I'd, and the
faculty got home as best IL could.
So John had been home all summer. To
be sure, he had not been idle. He had laid
out trip through Europe, which he pro-
posed to tramp after the fashion of Bayard
Taylor, writing letters home to defray ex-
penses.
He had corresponded with all the leading
journals, but somehow had not succeeded
in impressing any sufficiently get an adj
vance upon which to start. Then, too
he had opened the Great Western Liter
AIRY bureau, which institution read, criti-
cised and touched up manuscripts for
would be authors, and did other such liter
airy work. This was what the prospectus
announced; however, it was never called
upon to do any work.
1t was becoming a very apparent thing
that John Long was mo account" And
he knew it well enough; none realized
more than he that he was visionary, i'm
practicable and lazy. He laughed at his
own schemes and had no faith in their sue
cess; yet he vowed he would starve before
he would work like other men. If ever he
had a serious moment he must have de-
spised himself; yet do not know that he
did.
He seemed to pique himself on his lack
of what we call common sense he avowed
himself brother to fools; he used to say
that, like Lamb, his sympathies were with
the foolish virgins and the man who built
his house upon the sand. | have known
him to spend his last dollar for theatre
seat or for dinner at an uptown hotel,
when he knew he would have no supper
and no bed at night.
If John Long had had the genius of Poe
or Goldsmith you might admire him. We
expect improvidence as to comman things
in men of genius. But John was only
commonplace fellow; never did brilliant
thing that / know Of He might have
made successful man, as men go; he was
perhaps, as bright as the average; but at a
certain point in his life he failed to be inn
pressed with the practicalness of living
and went off into idling and dreaming.
Now, there was Arthur Brooks. The
two boys had a fair start in life; | really
believe John was the more clever; but Ar
thur always got on best. John was a dis
appointment, even when he was boy, and
it was so through all his life. He lacked
the element Of success.
John and Arthur were great friends;
they grew out of boyhood together, and
were loyal to each other as young men
yes, even after they became rivals for the
affections of Lucy Harris What on earth
had become of what little wit John Long
had, when he thought OF entangling any
woman in his own miserable existence, |
do not know. But Lucy undoubtedly liked
him. You do not care to know how great
friends they became; how, of all living be-
ings, John poured cut his heart to her, and
how tender and good she was to him. You
might like to know that she was beautiful
with q bewitching face and true eyes, and
all that could be asked for in lovely girl.
All they were good friends, John and
Lucy, and they talked of those things that
burdened most heavily their foolish young
hearts; the mystery of that life into which
they had been flung and that frightened
them when first they were awakening to
it, the nwfulness of life and of the scepter
OF life And so John grew to love the
sweet girl with all his heart. 1t is little
enough good that can be said of John
Long, but his life was the better that he
carried through it always pure love for
Lucy.
He never told her of it. It Is not to be
doubted that he would have been foolish
enough to have done so; but one evening,
when he was home the last time, she told
him as she would have told her brother of
her betrothal TO Arthur Brooks. 1t was
not till she was through that the realiza-
fion Of what 1t was to John flashed upon
her And John told her he would go
away. And IN the starlight she lifted up
her face for his kiss.
John left that very night 1t may be
that after that be would have liked to have
made man of himself, but his old habits
were upon him. He wandered about the
south for few months, peTsuading him
self that he was studying the race ques-
ton, and that presently he would write
series of magazine articles that would
startle the country. Finally he brought
up at Atlanta with his money gone. OF
course, he had to look fer work then, and,
with unusual good luck, be managed to
get position on one OF tire morning pa
pers.
1t would have been strange II he had
held 1t longer than four months, and he
did not. 1t was early one morning In Oc-
tober, after his own work was up, that, as
he sat at the telegraph editors desk, his
eye was caught by special that had just
come In. 1t was the story of the murder of
William Harris, the father of Lucy He
had been found dead and by poison. a
dispute. REGULAR will, and other circum-
stances indicating motive, pointed to the
newly married husband of Lucy Harris as
the murderer. Arthur Brooks had been
arre4ted and was now in the county Jail.
The dispatch spoke OF smothered talk Of
Iynching, and said the Jail was an old one
and not strong John Long easily pictured
the violence with which the old love for
Brooks would turn into an overwhelming
wave of wrath; he knew there would DO
no stopping to weigh the evidence.
:. John Long walked out into the early
morning air He drank in the charm of
life. The shadows lay long, and there was
a thrill and joy in every breath. How
hard for Brooks, with the blood of youth
in his veins, TO yield his life, How could