Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1891-02-05
AVENGED AT LAST:
Or, a Worldwide Chase.
A STORY OF RETRIBUTION.
By "WABASH.o
COPYRIGHT, 1901

CHAPTER vI-CoNTINUED.
The visitor was man weighing some
thing IN the borhood of two hum
dred pounds. and had face as round
and AL red as the setting sun on a
winters day. Step By step he had
risen ff5m the lowest ranks, until he
had finally attained the mighty distinc-
ton of being millionaire, said millions
having teen acquired by the practical
application of the science of turning
tallow into soap.
In his easly days he had known Mr..
Wilcox intimately, and the acquaintance
had recently been renewed with pleas
ure on both sides. Consequently Mrs.
Delaro and her daughter felt it incum-
bent upon them to entertain the gentle
man when he called.
Since converting his soap-boiling BUSH
ness into stock company and then sell
ing out his interest at an enormous
profit, Mr.. Blodgcr had found a great
deal of time on his hands. His wife had
long since passed to the better land"
and as he had no relatives to hamper
him he devoted his time pretty much to
his own company and that of his fifteen
year old boy, who was, at least physical
ly, following in his fathers footsteps
bidding fair to outrival the celebrity Of
the Fat Boy in Pickwick.
The elder Blodger had, like many of
his ilk, in these his later days of wealth
and leisure, turned his attention to
books and study in the fond hope that
he might pass for an educated man in
that society toward which his inclina-
tions and ambition now led him. The
result was that smattering of superficial
knowledge which is so exceedingly dam
gerous; for in his unguided search in
the highea realms of knowledge Stephen
Blodger ad no: deemed it necessary to
improve his grammar, and as conse-
quence his conversation oft-times en-
bodied a strang. conglomeration of the
classic sciences and fine arts, dished up
in miserably bag English.
Recently this genius had developed
into poet and he was never seen out
without his scrap book under his arm,
in which he had pasted his own efforts,
written on foofscap in a large, round
hand, together with numerous choice
pieces which he had clipped at odd
times from the columns of the Sunday
papers, AS this worthy individual en-
tered the parlor he bowed low and said
with broad smile, precisely as Armida
had mimicked him a moment before:
Good morning ladies; Mr.. Stephen
Blodger at your service
The two ladies returned the greeting
and the usual every day questions re-
garding health and the weather having
followed, Mr.. Blodger drew from the
side pocket Of loud-patterned tourist
Jacket which he wore. tablet, and
said: ''Ladies, have been sitting in
quiet seclusion upon the sands Swallowed
by q large sun umbrella and my
thoughts. As my eyes wandered across
She broad expanse of ocean, the muse
look possession of my soul and | was at
oncc inspired to write an ode to the At
iuntic. Here is the first stanza in it's
unfinished state:
Atlantic broad and vast expanse
OF seethng, boiling foam"
Here Armida interrupted the reader,
saying: you will pardon me, i know,
Mr. Blodger, because you have come
here to court criticism, but do you not
think that 'Seething, boiling foam re-
minds one rather unpleasantlyo of a soap
boiling process?"
THAT may be, but we can modify
word painting, Miss Armida. This is
only in the rough" Then he continued:
" Upon whose bosom white-winged ships,
BY day and night do roam"
There" said Mr.. Blodger, as he COM
pleted the first stanza, Il think that
will work up into something very neat,
not to say beautiful"
Very" said Armida and her mother
in unison; but whether they were in
earnest or not would have been difficult
to determine from the manner in which
they gave their assent.
You did not know that I am also q
poet, did you?" said Armida to Mr..
Blodger.
''Indeed l did not. But I am really
not surprised that we can add poetry to
your many accomplishments" he gal
lantly, if awl1wardly, responded.
well, can not exactly be called
poet" was the reply, but 1 occasion
ally indulge in clothing my thoughts in
rhyme. Sometimes I really do feel SEN
poetical and again at other