Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1892-01-07
FELL INTO A FORTUNE


known Bohemian club inwardly curs-
ing the hard fate that detains me IN
town for, mind you. | had an invita-
lion to a certain house in Blankshire,
where | would be sure of welcome of
the warmest, but pressure of work
combined with somewhat limited re-
eources, compelled me to decline.
Things might he worse, | reflect, and
the reflection carries me back TO an
other LIST of October, less than de-
cade ago. when things were decidedly
worse. How well | remember the
day, a glorious bright sunshine-even
In London! There had been a sharp
frost the night before, and the unfor-
tunate horses were slipping and fall
ing on the greasy wood pavement, |
feel more than usual sympathy with
them for |. toos have been slipping
and falling on the pathway of life, and
my prospects are none Of the bright
est.
] was standing at the corner of q
well-known west-end thoroughtare
where several lines of traffic converge
and it mattered little to me which way
l should turn my footsteps, when an
old gentleman. tapping me on the
arm, inquired if | would be good
enough to give him wing over the
crossing. He is not he explains. SO
Young AS he used TO be, and is unac-
customed to thread his way through
such maze of vehicles.
am not in the best of humors with
mankind generally, but | give him my
arm, and slowly. for my companions
steps are rather feeble, l pilot him
over the crossing.
''Decentiy Off old fellow" think to
myself. Lives in the country EVIL
IDENTIFY. and just up in town on bust
ness
Very slippery this morning." he
remarks.
Very. indeed" reply; must be
pleasant in the country, though"
Yes; just the day for shooting,
eh?' he returns.
Some Involuntary movement on my
part must have caused the Old gentle
mans explanation for it is many a
day since had a gun in my hand, and
the mere mention of shooting had
aroused old memories.
But we have crossed the busy street,
aud the ola boy looks up at me CRATE
fully, yet wthal, keenly. |. glad
enough TO be alone. turn into the park,
and ponder within myself why the edi-
tor of The PehmY Ptlterer should have
rejected my last manuscript. Where
is it, by the way? Thought | had
stuffed it into my pocket as | came
out, but must have lost il.
And here | am sitting in comfort
able chair at my club. Oh. yes; things
are decidedly better than they were
eight years ago, when piloted the old
gentleman over the crossing.
can not help thinking Of Tommy
this morning with feelings of envy.
But it is preposterous. What chance
have | of aspiring to the hand of fair
Ethel Compton. whose father has been
heard to say that Compton Towers and
its broad acres shall be his little girls
when he is gone, for the squire has no
son and Ethels two elder sisters have
married into the Deerage. Decidedly
"a rising young author" as one critic.
kinder than his fellows. has been
pleased to dub me. would have to rise
considerably before having any chance
In that quarter.
Tommy, should mention, is a brief
less barrister, of some eight and TWEEN
ty, inheriting from his father an in
come of about three hundred wear,
which he supplements bv occasionally
backing winners and contributing
smart 'pars' to the society journals,
and when these means fail. which is
pretty often, he goes to see "a man i'm
the city" who, on the strength of his
being heir TO his bachelor uncle. lets
him have trille of ready" and
charges him some 65 per cent for the
accommodation.
am the sole tenant of the smoking
room, save old Robert, the waiter, who
moves neryously about, re-arranning
things that don't want it. and evidently
DESTROYS of entering into conversation.
At length he catches my eye and
comes forward with the Times in his
hand.
Nice day. sir; seen the Times, sirp"
he begins.
Yes. nothing particular in it, is
thereF" reply
Only this. SIR" returns Robert.
directing my attention to the Deaths"
where | read as follows:
''On September %, at the Grange,
Biankshire, Thomas Edwin Jenkins,
aged 81"
put down the paper and look up
at Robert.
i thought as how that might be Mr..
jenkins uncle, SIR" he saws. Il sup
pose IL will DO 4 great thing for him,
sir?n
Il suppose So" l reply mechanic
ally. and. not caring to continue the
conversation, rise aud saunter toward
the window, whence | watch the ever
changing crowd III the street | arouse
myself will 90 home and work.
On my arrival md several matters
requiring absorbing attention for some
hours. The next morning brings new
duties and it is not until late in the
afternoon that am free, when | go to
the club. where | find letter await
ing me; it is from Tommy asking me
to 20 down to the Grange. The
funeral is 10 take place next day. |
don't care about going but must not
deny my friend at such moment; so.
finding there is a train from Padding
ton which will just get me down in
time, dispatch Il wire to Tommy tell
!. ing him 10 expect me the following
morning.
A trap meets me at the little country
station. ani q short drive brings me
to the house of mourning. TomMy