Barbour County index. [volume] (Medicine Lodge, Kan.) 1880-current, 1892-02-03
NOT FOR HIM.
Didn't Want to Be Another Little
Lord Fauntleroy.


| mountains. had ''flocked all alone BY
myself" glad of solitary jaunt which
should take me away from the intense
strain of business affairs which after a
long legal struggle had resulted in
making me millionaire. had chosen
the solitary Chamber of the great hills
] on my own legs by advice of promi-
nent physician, who declared / needed
physical exercise and mental rest. |
enjoyed every moment The weather
had been cool and fine. Advanc-
ing from Concord, which | made nav
point of departure, / had gradually
followed the railroad course from town
to town, stopping at night wherever /
happened to find shelter which seemed
promising, and | have always looked
back to the hospitality extended to me
In two or three of the farmhouses with
pleasant wonder, for within them
dwelt such peace, purity, kindness and
consideration as one may often seek
for in vain among the mansions of the
cities
/ The railway which now cuts the road
| into unpleasant sandbanks was in those
old days hoped-for Improvement, but
had not become materialized in even so
much as the first rail; and that de-
licious valley, in which all the sylphs,
lmps and fairies must have disported
themselves in the moonlight every mid
summer festival, lay SO quiet so peace
full. so exquisitely contrasted with the
superb heights which rose towering
above, had often so charmed me that
my soul was lifted in thanksgiving to
God for such manifestation of His
eternal freshness and beauty.
had just finished the last line of
song when | saw boy, about thirteen
or fourteen years old, sitting upon a
stone, crying as if his heart would
break. He was small for his age,
could see at once. He was singularly
handsome. HIS curly brown head was
noble in form, he was fair in complex
ion, his features were almost classic.
His feet were bare, red, swollen and
scratched, but the insteps were slen-
der, the nails delicate and the ankles
not those of country bred lad. In
moment noticed that his clothing was
fine, and although simple, elegant in
cut and make, while his stockings and
shoes were equally good. He was
dusty and badly burned, his hands red
and sore with constant exposure to the
sun. His appearance astonished me,
and said TO him:
"a rather jolly morning to be weep
ing like that, seems to mei''
He started and looked up through
pair of deep brown eyes so strangely
melancholy that for a moment he
seemed like an old man. He ceased
crying, but sat still, not answering
word. Something within him, some
thing within me, was at that moment
touched to instantaneous life. felt
hat l loved the lad. l have often won
dered what it was that made me sud-
denly sit down beside him, put my arm
around him and pat his head. I was
long past forty, was a bachelor 1
hadn't very many friends, for l had not
been rich until a week before. My life
had been a long, hard struggle, a
serious, earnest work toward grave
end, and into my existence had crept
but few flowers of affection and but
one root of love.
II guess" said l, Yankee fashion,
that you and l are pretty lonesome
pair of fellows, somehow"
He looked me in the eyes moment
and then impulsively hid his face in my
breast, while one arm stole around my
neck.
II am," said he; i've been lonesome
ever since l was BORN
Well, so had l. Maybe that was the
link that Joined us. had had no home;
no father, no mother / was a self
made man, what there was of me, I'M
til that fortune had come. So l said
the truth simply: 80 have l."
"Have you?'' he cried, eagerly
Then you will understand! You will
know all about it! You will not blame
me. You will tell me what to do"
why should | blame you, my boy?
What have you done?"
81 have run away more than hun
dred miles,
He looked at me doubtfully, wistful-
ly, to see how l would take it. l took
| it coolly. Boys often do that" / an
swered.
He looked little crestfallen-not SO
| much of hero But in moment, try
ing to justify himself, he asked:
What makes emp"
Usually harsh, unl1ind father; too
much whipping; too much work, too
little plays or else, cheap story papers
Are they never lonesome enough to
die? Don't that make 'em, ever?''
II never heard SO. Did it you? Come,
you had better tell me all about it.
You see I've been about so myself"
He wiped his bonny face, sat down
on an old log and said: my trouble is
our family. You see we are real folks.
My great-great-gra was some
body awful grand and rich. He was
fathers side, you know. Then his
mother was an Endicott, I've heard
about her and her father and his moth
err being awful rich and grand ever
since was in my crib. Then mother
She is straight descendant of the
Devereaux of Hammerstead. They had
earls and barons and dukes and things
all back to William. They call him
William the Conqucror, but call him
old Bill. | hate himl And mothers
folks were linked in, somehow. with
the old Squire Leith' family. Oh. l
guess l shan't forget the namesl I've
heard 'em nine thousand seven hundred
and forty times So if you can make
out who | am, I can't. for / am so
many boys in one that | feel Just like
plum-puudlEg Inc rdlSlnS are the
Endicotts and the currants are the
Devereaux, and the citron the Leiths,
and the spice the dukes and things,
and the -four the rest of EN-, and they
are all rolled into NE. And I'm the
last of the whole lot, and I'm lone
some"
think should have laughed till l
burst my buttons if had not perceived
that he was very much in earnest.
just said simply, in a sympathetic tone,
resuming the vocabulary of my boy
hood: ''That is tough
'Isn't it?" said he. Now I'll tell
you the rest of it Seeing that all our
people were so rich and grand, some
time ago, you know-say few hum
1,.al