The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1893-07-28
A TYPE-W WRITTEN LETTER
Mr.. Denham's Queer Way Of Sc
curing a Partner.

curing q ParCn6r.
When man has battled with power
ty all his life, fearing it as he fought it,
feeling for it's skinny throat to throt-
tie it, and yet dreading all the while
the coming of the time when it would
gain the mastery and throttle him
when such a man is told that he is
rich, it might be imagined he would
receive the announcement with hilari-
ty. When Richard Denham realized
that he was wealthy he became even
more sobered than usual rand drew a
long breath, as if he had been running
a race and had won it. The man who
had brought him the news had no idea
he had told Denham anything novel.
He merely happened to say: You are
rich man, Mr.. Denham, and will never
miss it."
Denfiam had never before been called
rich man, and up to that moment he
had not thought of himself as wealthy.
He wrote out the check asked of him,
and his visitor departed gratefully,
leaving the merchant with something
to ponder over. He was as surprised
with the suddenness of the thing as if
some one had left him a legacy. Yet
the money was all of his own accumu-
long and he had been so hopeless about
it that from mere habit he exerted all
his energies long after the enemy was
overcome-just as the troops of New
Orleans fought fierc battle not know
ing the war was over. He had sprung
from such a hopelessly poor family.
Poverty had been their inheritance
from generation to generation. 1t was
the invariable legacy that father had
left to son in the Denham family. All
had accepted their lot with uncom-
planning resignation, until Richard re-
solved he would at least have fight
for it. And now the fight had been
won. Denham sat in his office staring
at the dingy wall paper so long that
when Rogers, the chief clerk, put his
head in and said in deferential voice:
'Anything more tonight, Mr.. Denham?"
Denham started as if that question in
that tone had not been asked him every
night for years.
Rogers was astonished, but was too
well trained to show it.
Anything more tonight, Mr.. Den
ham?" .
''Ah! quite So No, Rogers, thank
you, nothing more"
"Good night, Mr.. Denham."
'Eh? Oh! yes. Good night, Rogers,
good night
When Mr.. Denham left his Office and
went into the street everything had an
unusual appearance to him. He walked
along, unheeding the direction. He
looked at the fine residences and real
lied that he might have fine residence
if he wanted it. He saw handsome
carriages; he, too, might set up an
equipage. The satisfaction these
thoughts produced was brief. OF what
use would a fine house or an elegant
carriage be to him? He knew no one
to invite to the house or TO ride with
him in the carriage. He began to real
ize how utterly alone in the world he
was. He had no friends, no acquaint-
ance even. The running dog, with its
nose to the ground, sees nothing of the
surrounding scenery. He knew men in
business way, of course, and doubt
less each of them had home in the su-
burbs, somewhere, but he could not
take business man by the shoulders
and say to him: Invite me to your
house; am lonely; ! want to know
people"
If he got such an invitation he would
not know what to do with himself. He
was familiar with the counting room
and its language, but the drawing-room
was an unexplored country to him,
where an unknown tongue was spoken.
On the road to wealth he had missed
| something, and it was now too late to
| go for it. Only the day before he had
heard one of the clerks, who did not
| know he was within earshot, allude to
him as "the old man." He felt as young
| as ever he did, but the phrase, SO lightly
| spoken, made him catch his breath.
AS he was now walking through the
park, and away from the busy streets,
| he took off his hat and ran his fingers
through his grizzled hair, looking at
his hand when he had done so, as if the
gray, like wet paint, had come off. lie
thought of girl he knew once who,
perhaps, would have married him if he
had asked her. as he was tempted to do.
But that had always been the mistake
of the Denhams. They had all mar
ried young except himself, and SO sunk
deeper into the mire of poverty, pressed
down by rapidly increasing progeny.
The girl had married a baker, he re
membered. Yes, that was long time
ago, The clerk was not far wrong wher
he called him an old man. Suddenly
another girl arose before his menta
visions modern girl-yery different
indeed to the one who had married the
baker. She was the only woman in the
world with whom he was on speaking
terms, and he knew her merely because
her light and nimble fingers played the
business sonata of one note on his Office
n