The record-union., 1894-07-14
A QUESTION OF IDENTITY.

with devout sense of peace and good
will to himself AS a general rule, ex-
cepr when some such evil as a corn, a
shiny collar, or burnt chop afflicted
him, he was firm of trust in these glad
tidings. Latterly, indeed, certain mys-
| terious occurrences had tempted him to
repine, but the optimistic habit for forty
odd years-of which the odd were dang
erously near to changing the order OF the
forty-still encouraged him to regard
these as mistakes, and even possible de-
lusions. When ones path has been
thoroughly cleared and leveled by provi-
dent ancestors, and for so many years
has been kept swept by eager prosperity.
a stub of the toe is more apt to be attri-
buted to a misstep than to the presence
of an actual pebble.
Mr.. Welles, then, was wont to belittle
the cares and the ills of life, and TO say
| that he didn't see why people shouldn't
take things as easily as he did. People
might have retorted that they would
have been very glad to take had fortune
been as generous in proffering. and that
then they. too, might each have become
sleek, selfish and fussy old bachelor.
But such remarks, concerning one SO be-
girt with dignity and splendor. are Of the
sort that console the would-be utterer.
not discomtit the potential auditor. and
Mr.. Welles, unconscious OF any dissent,
continued TO bear himself erect and POM
pous, with back SO stiff that its quality
1ermented the neck ABOVE and the legs
below. Perhaps, though, this exuber-
ance was not sign Of strength, but rather
of the easy burdens which had thus far
been superimposed.
Mr.. Welles' seat by the club window
might have been an incorDoral heredita-
ment it was so sacredly regarded by MEM
berS and servants. Before it, each morn
ing, the accessories of his breakfast, the
fruit, the iced soda, the newspaper, were
laid, and when nature was properly COM
Portable, from the upper Venetian blind
there descended just an adequate amount
of sunshine. On this day in question,
Mr.. Welles was affably preparing his
orange, pondering the while that the peel
was to the pulp as his circumstances
were to his excellence, when his eyes,
wantonly wandering, were punished by
becoming fixed on paragraph in the
personal column of the paper, for never
before by looking thither had they adj
nitted the possibility of having anything
to seek. The item was in bold type and
read as follows:
whereas some man resembling me
in my name, all persons are hereby
warned against trusting the impostor,
and l 90 hereby offer reward of $50 for
his apprehension. (Signed) Peter kop-
per, Brewer, Higg's Docks"
Mr.. Welles read, and straightway the
orange lost its flavor, the steaming coffee
its aroma, and those mysterious occur
| rences whose reality he had so bravely
doubted gained in substance. Pete Kop-
per! Why, that was the objectiona-
BILE, the impossible individual who in
some grotesque way must look like him.
The idea was preposterous. beyond cred
ence; but yet, how often had he been ac-
costed on the street by some inebriated
wretch crying: Hello Pete! Aren't you
going to buy?" How often had publi-
cans leaning against the portals OF their
dens called after him, Hey there, Kop-
per! Just one moment Here's a keg
not quite up to standard"
Had there not been dreadful day-too
dreadful to be recalled except in the pres
ent dreadful stress-When he was prom
enading through the Park, yes, and look
ing most fit for the word, even if sylla-
bles longer, when rubicund and corpu-
lent woman whisked around his shoul-
ders an appalling red shawl, and to him
thus detained had screamed: ''Oh,
brother Pete. how high and mighty you
are, to be surep' while at the same fatal
instant a horde of infantile ruffians had
besieged his Immaculate trousers, de-
manding "a penny from uncle" All,
horrible instant, indeed! For, in its very
fullness, had not Mrs. Lescelles, that di-
vine widow, whom he destined to be his
not his widow, mind you, but his con-
sort-swept by in her carriage, smiling,
as we'll she might?
Mr. Welles had never seen this Peter
Hopper. He had been loath to admit to
4 Al l.. l.
There was something appropriate in his
own tall, slender form, clean-shaven
face and sharp-cut features. They might
we'll be deemed the attributes of wealth,
blood and station. Was it possible that
at the same time they could stand for
beer? But how this advertisement
seemed to indicate complication yet
more inconceivable. Was indignant fate
striving to degrade him through sue
cession of parodies, or had this presump-
tuous Hopper, irritated by some secret
pilferings, and Informed by hearsay of a
chance resemblance, dared to associate
these facts IN his stupid mind, and then,
in the more stupid paper, with the re-
suit?
All. what results might not spring
from an ignorance sure to be even more
obstinate than crassi They had never
met; suppose now they should? Would
not this violent Hopper, instead of being
impressed with the elegance, be incensed
by its presumption? Instead of perceiv-
ing one who was really suffering from
being burlesqued, would he not see the
certain personator? In ,his minds eye
Mr. Welles beheld an encounter, blow.
fight. capture, the Police Court, disgracei
He scanned the servant suspiciously lest
within the livery there might be con-
cealed a detective with a clue. He left his
breakfast untasted and hurried to his
rooms by circuitouS route, resolved to
go out only after nightfall and to let his
beard grow. From all of which it must
appear that the stiffness in Mr.. Welles'
back did not depend on the absence of
ordinary burdens.
About the same hour Mrs. Eliza Les
celleS and her niece Ethel Vincent were
also engaged in luxurious breakfast
room with fruit and rolls and coffee. The
former was jolly, mirth-loving, plump
and pretty widow, young enough to re-
alize what fool she had been to marry
an old man for his money and too old to
ever repeat the financial stroke. The
latter was cold, stately and handsome; in
repose an elegant lay fgure-that is to
say, always an elegant lay figure. The
one was practical Allegro" the other
thoughtless "Penseroso.' Mrs. Les
cehes was too fond of bits of gossip to go
without her morning newspaper. 1t al
ways lay by her plate, SO folded. in ac-
cordance with her taste, as to present the
marriages and deaths. 1t CHANGED that
the personals were directly next TO these,
an appropriate position truly for ''the
agony column" and thus it happened
that her bright eyes lighted on the pa
ragraph which had SO perturbed Mr..
WeIles.
'.Ha, ha, ha!'' laughed the widow,
Poor Mr.. Hopper, and poor, poor Mr..
Welles!o At this latter name Ethel
raised her languid eyes with the ghost of
an interested expression.
"Mr. Welles?" she repeated. 'Why
should any one speak of him as poor?o