The Portland daily press., 1893-10-03
SOME ODD STORIES

The End of a Selfish Life-A Story That
Points Plain MoraI-Dead at Wom-
ans Grave-The Want of Wholesome In-
Huence.
copyright, lsa by American Press Associa-
toni
There are men-and women, too-whose
lives would seem to be one unbroken rec
ord of selfishness, and yet who manage to
get on in the world and to win where
others much better than themselves fail
Dick Folingsby was man of this kind.
Dick and were distant cousins and play
mates and schoolmates in our boyhood
recall as distinctly as if it were yesterday
that Dick had great habit of breaking
tops, letting kites get loose, losing books
and bursting the barrels of shotguns, but
the things lost or injured were never his
own-they always belonged to myself or to
some other boy.
Whenever it came down to the division
OF an apple, an orange or piece of cake
always the property of some other boy. for
Dick never divided his things-he invari-
ably managed to do the cutting and al
ways got what we called 1.-THE biggest half"
He grew up to be a fine looking fellow,
though with rather a cynical expression.
] remember my father, with the privilege
of kinsman, pointed out to Dicks parents
on one occasion what he thought were the
defects in the boys character, but they
thought his peculiarities would the beUter
qualify him for the calling of a merchant,
which it was decided he should be.
Soon after Dick Folingsby came of age,
his father and mother died, leaving him an
estate that brought in about 5000 year.
If Dick had been left poor, / am quite sure
that he would have won his way, like many
men of the same disposition, and achieved
fortune, but competency was death
blow to his ambition. It seemed to ener-
waite all his nobler impulses, while it in.
tensified his selfishness.
From first to last do not recall having
heard of Dicks giving away one cent in
charity or helping man who was down
from that impulse of sympathy which we
often find associated with natures that are
far from noble
And yet as look back upon his career
cannot help thinking that with proper in
fuences about him, when his character was
in process of formation, that Dick Folings-
by might have been most useful man,
who in dying could look back upon well
spent life.
I recall that when we were boys Of s or 9
years in Kentucky, that one of our chums
of the same age had pretty baby sister of
about 8. Even unto this day never see a
baby with golden hair and laughing blue
ewes without hAin@ rAnnindAd nf Edna Davis.
ST am going to have her for my wife,
Dick would say, and as he always managed
to get whatever he wanted I, as child, be-
lieved that the marriage was foregone
conclusion.
Dick was not inclined to be intellectual.
So when went away to boarding school
and subsequently to college our lives
parted practically, though we met often
afterward, and I think, after his fashion,
he liked me. l know had come to regard
him with Indifference, if not with con-
tempt, for never forgot his meanness to
me when was boy. Indeed, and curl
pusly enough, the wrongs borne passively
when was child reused my anger when
/ thought of them after I had grown to
be more than Dick Folingsby's physical
equal.
Like all selfish men, Dick was inordi-
nately vain, particularly of his power oyer
women.
He bad many love affairs before he
reached the age of %, yet from first to last
he always chung to Edna Davis, the only
person in the world who seemed to have
any influence over him.
Edna had grown up in fulfllment of all
the promise of her childhood. saw her
last when she was but little more than 10,
and, although her friends assured me that
the doctors could not find any organic dis
ease, her ilylike beauty ans the evident
lack of physical strength convinced mo that
she was not long for this world.
Little did then think that the poor girl
was dying of broken heart and that Dick
Folingsby was the cause. He had asked
her to marry him, that is certain, but she
refused, though she loved him from first to
last; and him only.
One day when was visiting a friend in
Lexington, KY, Dick came into my room,
and pointing to the death notices in news
paper he said hoarsely:
'sRead that"
glanced at the notice. but was not sur
prised, for two days before this had at
tended the funeral of Edna Davis and WON
dered that Dick was not there
tits awful" he gasped.
"Yes; very sad," replied.
He sprang to his feet, his face the color Of
the ashes on the hearth, and whispered:
.tShe was n.urderedl 1 tell you Edna Da-
Wis was murdsred"
Nonsense" said.
"But it's true. And know the murder
sri'
I todd him rest would do him good and
begged him to lie down.
Eyes, old fellow, need rest mighty
bad, and I'll soon take a long one. But. I
repeat, she was murdered, and know the
murderer"
Hoping to quiet him, for could see he
had been drinking, I asked:
well, who is the fellows
"Can't you Think"
'sNo, and I don't propose to try"
''Look at mel"
Ibid so.
ST am the guilty man, and must pay
she penaltyr' he cried. "Had done right
Edna would be living and my happy wife
today, but I did wrong, and she knew it.
That's why she would not marry me,
- loxyad . ,,orx h,,<