Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1892-06-12

the worth of the treasure, yet be recognized
at the same time the propriety Of dissimula-
tion. Therefore, feignlng as best he could
a certain indifference, he asked: "And how
much do you wish me to pay you for thls?
The man was fully prepared for that
issue. zone thousand guineas," said he:
The price startled, nay, paralyzed MI.
Morrison, millionaire though he was
"a thousand guineasl' roared he. ''You
are extortionate in your demand.
"No, I am not, answered the ruffian,
coolly. 'I know what the letters worth,
and / shall not take penny less for it. :"
For q moment Mr.. Morrison was tempted
to clinch the bargain. "But no." thought
he; eff I pay such price for a single item.
I shall simply render myself liable to e1tor-
tionate prices all the rest of my life. p"
Prize Worth Striving For.
'Take it away" said Morrison to the
other, 'I'll not pay you any such sum of
money for it,
So the man went his way, taking the
precious document with him.
Then regret played upon Morrison. He
might at least have parleyed with the fell
low-perhaps argument, dispassionate
argument, or good-natured cajolery might
have induced him to part with the treasure
at q more reasonable price. What if some
rival collector should secure the prize?
What if by some means or other the letter
should be destroyed? These and thousand
other fancies made Mr.. Morrison's life
burden for many days and nights.
1t was perhaps a fortnight later that
woman entered Mr.. Morrison's library; she
was wan and ill-clad.
"My husband is in O cab outside" said
she. "He has that Marie Stuart letter, and
unless you pay him 1000 guineas for 1t he
will tear it up. He is reckless man, and
l warn you that he will execute his
determination.
This announcement threw Morrison into
fever of excitement; he did not stop to
think-his mind was filled with apprehen-
sion lest that priceless relic should be de-
stroyed. Every enthusiastic collector will
understand what his emotions must have
been at that moment; it was his duty to
save the prize at any cost-it was now or
never. Trembling and white with excite
ment, his heart actually in his throat. he
seized his checkbook, wrote out check,
rushed into the street and confronted the
man in the cab.
The vender Was the Sharpen.
"Here's your money; give me the letter."
cried Morrison.
''It's we'll you came was about to tear
it up" said the man grimly.
But back in his library with the Marie
Stuart letter in his hands, Mr.. Morrison
began to take another aspect of the affair.
us it reasonable to suppose" he asked
himself, ''that this squalid wretch, knowing
the value of this prize, would have de-
stroyed what he knew would make him
comparatively rich? Of course not; he has
played upon me; he read me better than
knew myself; by most commonplace arti-
fee he has so excited my emotions that
have paid an extortionate sum for what
doubtless would, in time, have secured for
half the money"
With these poignant reflections Morrison
reproached himself, yet it is a question
whether he would to-day part with the
Marie Stuart letter at any price. The other
day Mr. S. j. Dewey, the leading autograph
dealer in London, was asked what the letter
was worth, and his answer was: "Its value
cannot be determined; it is one of the treas
ures that to collectors are simply priceless.
HENRI RoLLIN PARKER