The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1894-10-26

! headed due east and, for all we know
/ in Washington, he may be out in the
Atlantic ocean to-day swimming for
the other side in order to get as far as
I possible from the Nemesis whom he
must imagine in his sleeping, as well
as waking hours. as pursuing him.
Old Irish Mary is standing on the
corner of Fifteenth and + streets every
! day selling her evening papers as usual.
/ but there is nervous agitation in all
of her movements which is regarded
as unusual by the many people who
/ have known her so long. When she is
not busily engaged in disposing of her
papers, she is talking to herself great
deal; and it is probable that she is pre-
( pairing a series of lectures which she
! desires to deliver to Mr.. Nicholson
/ Smith if she can ever capture or corner
( him behind the bars where he will be
/ compelled to listen to the words of
/ wisdom which she desires to utter to
! him. Old Mary has had a youth, a
young womanhOod, honeymoon, a
married life, u commercial life, and be-
meath her tattered garments she IN
doubtedly has host of bitter, burning
wrongs within her hearts hot cells
shut up which would make volume
of pathos, dramatic interest and tragic
earnestness, if they could be reduced
TO writing or portrayed upon the mimic
stage. Not all the wealth of the Van
derbilts, Draytons and Goulds can
bring to their sensitive natures keener
anguish or a more incisive sense of
wrongs than Old Irish Mary has suf
fered. There has been a skeleton in
her closet all these years; the gaunt
and grewsome skeleton which only a
deserted wife can harbor. 1t has at
last been dragged forth before the pub
lie gaze, and there is universal con-
demnation of Nicholson-Smith.
OF course, we have not and will
probably never have the other side of
the story. The lost husband has sur
rendered the field to his loving spouse,
and viii never come back any more.
That he must have experienced some
sensation of the brain, which seemed
to him to be a reason for his action, is
to be presumed. Maybe he could not
endure the enforcement of Mary's logic
with rolling pin. Maybe he was not
agile enough always to get out of the
way of flying flat-iron. Maybe he
found his Uranium to be softer than the
poker. 1t is idle to speculate upon the
subject. The facts alone remain that
he disappeared, was lost to sight and
memory dear for thirteen years, and
then was driven off of the earth again.
1t is a very pathetic story, full of
tears. Everybody says: Poor Old
Mary" Not a soul even thinks of say
ing: ''Poor Old Nicholson" 1t is
human nature to assume that the man
in the case is wrong; and that is a
fair presumption. Nevertheless, 1 can
not help wondering just what oc-
CURED; what last straw broke the
camel's back in the case of old man
Nicholson; what drove him to drink, or
drove him, panic-stricEen, from the
matrimonial camp. Maybe old Mary
was all right, and kind, and gentle.
There may have been some other
woman in the case who lured old
Nicholson from the straight and
narrow path. We shall never know
his side of the story. Meantime. Old
Irish Mary will continue to stand ont
there on the sidewalk, beside the tele-
graph pole, and sell her papers. Poor
Old Mary" SMITH ID. FRY.