The National tribune., 1892-12-01
brightly lighted.

brightly lighted.
In mnfiled silence a young man, cloak
less and gloveless, hurried by the iron bars that
fence in the little acre of the rich toward his
| lodging place.
For five years Jack Fleming had lived alone.
No one knew very much about him, except
that he was thriftless, indolent genius.
| When his father died the fortune that might
| have gone to him had endowed certain
| wealthy charitable institutions. His mother
had died in his infancy. and Jack Fleming had
grown up with the servants and his books for
| companions He had never seen enough OF
his father to love him. In his childhood Jack
| had one friend, Dora Goldthwait. She was o
| beautiful girl, several years his junior, who
| lived in the house ad dioining his fathers, and
every day one or the other would climb the
| fence that separated them and drop over into
the little yard for romp. Dora was proud Of
her protector and playmate, for even then Jack
was full of book knowledge, and Dora soon
learned to love Shakspere and Milton as read
| aloud by her hero.
| Another great tramping place for the little
| people was Gramercy Park, for both houses
| faced the handsome playground, and Mr.
| Goldthwait and Jacks father among the
| favored rich who possessed keys to the great
iron gates that shut out the children of the
poor who often lined the iron fence and peered
wistfully between the bars at the smiling lawn
within.
The children were inseparable until Jack
was Is and Dora IL. Then Jack went to col
lege, but every holiday found him at home
again, and often books went by the board and
Jack came home on the sly to see his little
| sweetheart. Of course, on these occasions he
was smuggled into Dora's home, and good
natured, easy going Mr.. Goldthwait would have
| thought it the basest treachery for any member
| of his family to inform his next door neighbor,
Jacks father, that his son was playing truant
After three years at college Jack was hope
lessy behind in his studies and his father, still
! ignorant of the reason, called him blockhead.
| One day Jack received tender, loving letter
| from Dora asking him to come home at once,
as her father had just received word from Eng
| land that he had fallen heir 10 large prop
| erty, including q theater in one of the large
cities and the business of the latter was in ur-
| gent need of his immediate attention. The
family would sail for England Immediately,
| but Dora wanted Jack to 90 with them, if he
| could. few hours after receiving the letter
Jack stood in front of the Goldthwait resi-
| dence on Gramercy Park. 1t was closed. No
servant answered the bell, and Jacks heart
| fell like lead. Again he looked at the letter.
| 1t was dated two days before, and had been
| delayed in the mails. At home he found his
father, but in a mood in which he had never
| seen him before.
You young rascal" he shouted, as Jack
| entered. $50 you have been wasting your
| time next door instead Of studying"
No pleading on the part of Jack could induce
| tho turbulent old man to tell where the Gold
thwaits had gone.
Never mind, thought Jack. II will hear
from her soon, and then -
But no letter came. Weeks heightened into
months. and Jack grew tall and thin. One day
he went up to his college town, and an inquiry
at the postoftice elected the fact that several
letters had come. up to month ago, but they
had been forwarded to Gramercy Park.
That night father and son faced each other
for the last time.
"Where are the letters Dora wrote to me?"
demanded Jack, az he leaned over toward the
old man, who stood smiling sarcastically in his
face.
az told you that if you refused to return to
college you would regret it," was the reply.
Jack turned on his heel and passed out of the
house.
He found it harder struggle than he ex-
pected. His income fuctuated from next to
nothing to nothing itself. He became first a
wanderer among apartments. then among
boarding houses and at last an nhabitant of
| furnished rooms" who ate at cheap restau-
rants-when he could eat at all.
He had lived week in rear-hall bedroom
| on Twenty-second street before he discovered
that its windows were only separated from
| those of his old home and that of Dora, on
| Gramercy Park, by the brief New York back
| yards in which they used to play together
The Goldthwait house was dark. 1t had been
| ever since the day Dora left. Next to it, where
his fathers mansion loomed up against the trees
| beyond, lights were often seen. But strangers
| occupied the familiar rooms.
One evening just five years since he had
| left his old life behind him Jack went to his
dingy little window to gaze at the two man
| sions He shivered with cold but the blood
| rushed quickly to his face when he saw
the home of the girl he still loved brightly
| lighted up. For an instant he stood still,
amazed. Then he sat down on his bed to think
| Finally, downhearted and discouraged, he
turned to great pile of manuscript and rub
bish on the floor, and picking book from the
| nondescript mass he turned over the leaves.
"Twelvc plays out" he muttered TO himself;
five of them probably lost" Only that day
| he had sent his best and latest comedy to the
new English actor who had arrived the day
| before. As soon as it was rehearsed (as he
doubted not it would be) he would send the
others in rotation.
For months he had expected success to come
with the dawn of every new day, and to- night
| as he threw himself On his bed hungry and
! broken hearted he realized the mistake he had
made in living in dream. He made firm
resolutions to reform, but as his fingers clinched
in newborn resolve his eyes strayed across the
way again. For the second time that evening
his heart stood still. Behind the soft lace cur
| tains of the Goldthwait mansion shadows of
| people fitted to and fro. The house was in.
habited agan-but by strangers, of course, he
| thought
The next day found Jacb poorer and hun
| grier than he had ever been before in his
life. For 4S hours he had not tasted food, but
| he determined to breakfast in spite of the
almost total emptiness of his pocket book. He
turned his face toward the lower portion of the
| city, determined to accept whatever work
offered ITSELF but it was holiday, and after
several hours spent in tramping the quiet
streets Jack turned his face homeward. AS he
| trudged up Broadway clatter on the stones
| behind attracted his attention and driverless
| cab dashed into sight. An elderly man was
| gesticulatng wildly from the window. With
a bound Jack responded. In another moment
the runaway horse stood painting in the road
way and Jacks sinewy hand was on the bit.
"One dollar to drive me up to Delmonicos," J"
shouted the man.
"But your driver?" asked Jack.
| "Drunk in . saloon" was the response.
Without another word Jack leaped up to the
cabby's seat and whipped up the horse. 1t was
the first time he had ever earned dollar by
| manual labor, and as he clinched his teeth
| firmly flush mounted to his cheeks.
| When the once-familiar restaurant came into
sight Jack thought, with moisture in his eyes,
of the many times he and Dora had lunched in
| the great dining room. As he rened up before
it, haggard and mud-bespattcred. totally differ.
ent from his old SELF he started with amaze.