The Portland daily press., 1891-07-10

Myers, and about noon ASNNSo A"' ~
was a log cabin of three rooms, one OF
which looked like the summer camp OF a
gentleman. There were guns and traps,
| boots and books, cigar boxes and some
old magazines lying about in careless
confusion. We found a woman in
charge, and an old man who seemed to
be nearing the shore line.
/ asked the old fellow if Mr.. Myers
was at home, and he replied only by a
quizzical look and an idle wave of the
hand. But the woman eyed me from
head to foot and disappeared hastily.
The old man thought / was Myers him
self with different clothes on, but the
woman took me to be his twin brother.
Presently Mr.. Myers himself appeared.
1t is not worth while to describe him,
Whoever has seen me has seen him, and
after that no one will doubt that he ap-
peared well and behaved better. Ac-
cording to the custom of country people,
he gave us the best entertainment the
house could furnish, and appreciated
with zest the flavor of cigar which
was able to offer him. After dinner,
while we were lingering on the bench
by the old cabin door, I bethought me Of
my stolen wine and proposed that he
join me in post prandial glass, which
tasted very well out of brace of tin
cups.
When a good flow of good feeling had
been established by the cheering wine
and by our pleasant conversation, tried,
as adroitly as could, to draw Mr.. Myers
out. He did not seem to be suspicious,
nor at all reticent, but seemed most of
all to enjoy a friendly meeting, no mat
ter how short, with person nearer his
own level than those with whom his life
was spent. He told me that he had lived
in the cabin for two years, doing moth
ing but passing the time. He amused
himself at fishing and hunting, reading
and sleeping. In the summer time the
members of shooting club came up to
Puckaway, and he spent day now and
then in their congenial society. His
long winters, however, were tedious and
desolate enough, and / did not fail to ex-
tort from him that the reason why he
endured them was because he had be-
come soured, and was Disguised with
the world and had turned his back on it.
When thought it safe to venture it,
the conversation suddenly took this
turn:
Murray, you ought not to bury
yourself in the woods like this.
He with look of mingled alarm and
surprise) Murray, did you say?
Yes; and to give it all 1 might say
Charles Wilson Murray, alias Myers.
He-Who are you and what are you
after?
IL am nobody in particular, and I
am after nothing.
Heidi ever meet you in Philadel-
phia?
Never; never saw you before to-
day.
Heidi you come out here ON pur-
pose to see me?
I-Yes. I was mistaken for you in
the village yesterday, and wanted to
see what You looked like.
He-How did you get my name?
IL was once before mistaken for you,
and was arrested in consequence. was
confronted by three ladies and charged
with theft, but the charge was made
only to secure my arrest. They wanted
me, or rather you-not anything which
they thought they had lost.
He Three ladiesi Two elderly ladies
and one about twenty-five?
Yes. They called themselves Mrs.
Seymour, Miss Susan Timberlake and
Mrs. Murray, your wife.
He-My mother-in-law, Mrs. Seymour;
my Aunt Sue-bless her old soul-and
my Fanny But, for the sake of mercy,
tell me about it. When, where and how
was it?
I then told him what I have already
related about my arrest, and also re-
peated much of what was said at the
Gibson House when called to see them
there, and spoke of the baby.
The mention of the baby transfxed
hint eclipsed all thought of every
other person. l told him that the child
looked like him. for all the ladies said
that it looked like me.
cannot take time to give all the de-
tails; his story was this:
His Aunt Susan and he were all that
were left of their family. Neither had
another relative upon the face of the
earth. She was well off, and he had
taken to roaming when boy and had
not seen her for many years. She lived
in little town called Angelica, in west
ern New York.
In 1870 he went to see her and was
deluged with affectionate attentions.
His aunt's most intimate friend was
Mrs. Seymour, who had pretty daugh-
ter, Fanny-and the two old ladies ham
died the matter so adroitly that almost
before he knew it he married the girl.
Then Mrs. Seymour broke up her
house and they all set up together at
Aunt Sues.
The ladies had between them an abun-
dance of money. He did nothing but
idle the time away; and they did moth
ing but pet him. They all made small
god of him, and he soon felt himself
being suffocated with an excess of affec-
ton. He neither went out nor came in,
never coughed or sneezed, without
putting all three ladies into more or less
excitement. They pampered him with
food, fused over his linen and other
garments, satiated him with petty pet
tings, until his life was burden. After
two months of it, he had to go to Harris
burg on business, and this little sniff of
freedom brought back the charms of q
Bohemian life and he did not return.
He wrote them from different places,
but never waited to hear from them,
and now over two years had passed since
he had written at all.
suggested that he go back to them,
and he at once asserted with great We
hemence that if that baby was boy he
would go back; if it was girl he would
go right away to China or India, and
never allow them to hear of him again.
In Mr.. Murray's opinion household
made up of three women and one man
was too uneven. He was too much in q
minority. He said that he seemed to be
cut off from companionship. and wanted
nothing in the world SO much as a male
friend and thepsociety of gentlemen.
He said if that child was a boy he
would rot feel so much alone and so
lonesome; the women could not smother
him entirely; thatshe and the boy would
soon c0nSDire.and confederate for rnut11a al