Middletown transcript., 1893-03-04
A STORY OF \ rELEGRAM.


Ii was a dun day In our office, One
Of those mornings when fellow can
scarcely think out grammatical SEN
tence or recall an available item Of
news, The rain was falling in torrents
outside and the March wind blew into
ones face with well.nigh resistless
force. Nota thing had been going on
the night before and The prospects for a
newsy afternoon paper seemed slim in
deed. | was trying to make an article
out Of school committee report, and
Van. as we called him, was deep in n
story of the city's sanitary condition
and how its inetficiency breeded dis
ease and death, for scarlet fever had
broken out in many families In one part
Of the city, and the Board of Health
had not even tried to locate the pri-
mary cause Of its appearance and
spread. We both finished at the same
lime and .teok his cnpy with mine to
The city EDITORS office in the next room.
When ! came back Van was looking
sweetly al an envelope on his desk and
saying to himself, Next summer, pet;
next summer we'll 'and then
he stopped short and laughed when ne
SAW that had caught him.
Harry Van Syckle was not a senti-
mentui fop BY any means, nor a love-
sick, poetry, quoting youth of the
'',lear boy, ,don't-cher-know Style" but
he was engaged 10 one 0f the swee. est
iris in b. Ida Catherine Ham
mond was the young lady and the tall
figure and stately bearing showed a
right to have name as high-sounding
and dignitied a. was hers, Delicate,
however, in health, she had been tlav-
cling In the south during the winter,
and would not return until the first OF |
May. Her letters were encouraging |
but yet there was quiet undertone to
every sentence that bothered Van be-
yond measure, lyou see he confided all |
lhls to me from time to time). The
following summer they were to be
married and move to Denver, where he
hoped the dry western air would build
up the weak lungs and make her bright
rs she b ID been when he first met her
three years before. | returned to
my desk. and putting away my papers,
was preparing to venture out in des
perate search for something new, when
Mr.. Rolph, the city editor, came in.
He held a telegram in his hand, and
said in his quick, sharp way, twhich of
you know Mr.. Hammond the Monroe
street broker, or any Of his familyf"
I winked knowingly at Van and he said
II do sir, very well." well, take
this and make little story, the be
you can, fol the family is well known"
md. handing Van the telegram, Mr..
BolpI left the roop. Never in all my
life will I forget the expires sion of
Harry's face when he glanced at the
1t grew red and then TesOlV-
ed into fixed, ashen stare that frigh-
tened me as | never have been fright
cred before. | tried to ask him what
WAS wrong, for he had risen, with that
game ghastiy look, but somehow my
tongue WAS fast and words would not
come.
He pass quickly ont, handing me
the bit of paper, went to the bank and
drew pHt bis sayings and then -
disappeared. The editor-in-chief tried
to find him, did my best, his parents
we're aell-nigh wild with grief, but
Harry Van Syckle has never been
seen in B. since thai etormy day in
March, 1892. land God knows whero he
went and what became Of him.
wrote the story-the hardest duty |
ever had-and my text was the brief
dispatch sent from little town in
Florida to her brother in B. 1t
read;
t.Iaa- Hammond died suddenly I
This morning at the Kentworth House.
Telegraph directions.
HinssvilIe, Ga. DIR. LOREN MILLER. |
Poor Harry! | had almost forgot
ten him until a few days ago, wnen,
going through the cemetery on the out
skilts of the city, | read oil pure
white marble slab, these words that
tell the story in one sentence: Ida Q.
Hammond, born December Is, 1854,
died March Q; 1889. Her sun set
while 1t WAS yet day.
r. F. M. ANDREWS.
SCISSORINGS.