Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1890-11-02

George Morris had come to you to make
inquiries about MIR. Bethune?''
You understood Alright"
"Who sent him?' demanded Vincent,
abruptly-for there were strange fsncies and
still darker suspicious flying through his
head
But Courtnay Fox smiled.
George Morris, you may have heard was
not born Yesterday His business is to get
out of you what he can, and to take care you
get nothing out of him. 1t was not likely
he would tell me why he came making these
inquiries-even ii had cared to ask, which
1 did not"
''You told him all YOU knew, of course,
about Mr.. Bethune?" Vincent went on, with
certain cold austerity.
81 did,"
And how much more?'
"Ah. very good-very neat" the spacious
wasted journalist exclaimed with noisy
laugh. Every good indeed. But look here,
Mr.. Harris, if the great solicitor was not
born yesterday you were-in a way; and 50
venture to ask you why you should take
such an interest in Mr.. Bethune's affairs?"
Vincent answered him without hinching.
because, among other things, certain
lies have been put in circulation about Mr..
Bethune, and L wished to know where they
arose. 1 am beginning to guess"
For an instant Mr. Courtnay Fox seemed
somewhat disconnected; but he betrayed no
anger.
Come, come" said he, with an efectation
of good humor," that is strong word.
Morris heard no lies from me, 1 can assure
you. Why, don't we all of US know who and
what old George Bethune is! He may
flourish and vapor successfully enough else
where; but he doesn't impose on Fleet
street: we know him too we'll. And don't
imagine l have any dislike toward your
venerable friend; not the slightest; in fact,
1 rather admire the jovial old mountebank.
You see, he doesn't treat me to TOO much OF
his Scotch plague; I'm not to the manner
born; and he knows it. Oh, he's skillful
enough in adapting himself to his
surroundings-like trout, that takes the
color of the pool ne finds himself in;
and when he gets hold of a Scotchman, I
am told his acting of the rugged and manly
independence of the Scot-of the Drury
Lane Scot, 1 mean-is splendid. / wonder
he doesn't go and live in Scotland alto
gether. They take things seriously there.
They might elevate him into a great posi-
tion-make great writer of him-they're
in sore need of one or two; and then every
now and again he would step out of his
cloud of metaphysics, and fall on something.
That's the way the Scotchmen get hold of
Christian would; they fall on it. We once
had an English poet called Milton; but
Mason fell on him, and crushed him, and
didn't even leave US an index BY which to
identify the remains. Old Bethune should
go back to Scotland, and become the Grand
Lama of Edinburgh letters; it would be a
more dignifed position than cadging about
TOR precarious living among us poor south
IONS.
Vincent paid but little heed to all this
tarrago; he was busily thinking how certain
undoubted features and circumstances Of old
George Bethune's life might appear when
viewed through the belittling and szrdonic
skepticism ,of this mans mind; and then
again. having had that hue and shape con-
ferred upon them, how would they look
when presented to the professional judg-
ment of such a person as Mr.. George Nor
ris?
"The Scotch are the very oldest people in
all the world" Mr.. Fox continued, for he
seemed to enjoy histown merry TRADE.
They'll clasp a stranger to their BOSOM,
and snare their last bawbee with him, II
only he can prove to them that be, too, was
born within sight of MacGillicuddy's
Reeks-"
"MacGillicuddy's Rseks are in Ireland,s
said Vincent. .---. -