San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1895-04-28
NELLIE'S BLUE EYE.
by HARRIET CARYL cox.

Robert Brayton, millionaire, sat in
his private Office for the moment alone.
The morning had been busy one, and
his visitors of q particularly trying
kind; and now they were gone he
breathed sigh of relief, a sigh that
sounded exactly like that of any ordi
nary individual
Harry Temple, clerk and private Sec
rotary, sat in the outer office, YEARLY
opening the pile of letters the postman
had just left on his desk. He had
sorted them in piles-the business let
ters in one pile, circulars, ETC., in
second, private letters in the third,
while the fourth held what he termed
the Crank letters"
The business letters were opened
first, and more work given the young
typewriter, who sat gazing out of the
window. Those requiring Mr.. Bray
tons personal attention were merely
glanced through, in order to ascertain
their nature
Finally, he reached the crank pile.
1t was larger than usual, but of the
same nature. There were numerous
demands for endowments for old
ladies' homes, unheard of missions and
numberless odd societies, and the usual
number of requests for situations, adj
vice, etc.
One ambitious young man wanted to
borrow twenty-five dollars, that he
might be married at once, and show
the city swell whom he had cut out
how things were done in Jersey.
A young girl far out in the country
wanted his old neckties If they weren't
too soiled. She was making crazy
quilt for the fall cattle show. Already
she had bits of silk from several noted
persons; wouldn't he please oblige her?
Another wanted any old gloves his
daughter might be ready to lay aside.
She wouldn't mind if they were little
large; they wore better if they were.
1t was the old story over again, and
one after another they were thrown
into the yawning waste basket.
The last envelope bore a child hand
writing. The address had begun bold
ly and with care; but it was too long,
and the last name was crowded, and
the letters ran uphill.
Half curiously young Temple tore it
open. Children were not common as
correspondents, and Mr.. Brayton had
a warm spot in his heart for children.
The paper was highly scented by q
mixture of cheap cologne and soap; in
the upper left-hand corner was an en-
bossed landscape of the most impos-
sible color and perspective. 1t read:
please Mr.. Brayton. won't you help me buy
Nellie Fowler new eyer Maybe you don't
know who she is, we'll she is girl who got
hurt when the men blasted the road she was
near, and they didn't see her and q big piece
of rock hit her IN the eye and then she couldn't
see, and the doctor he said 1t must come out,
and so he cut it out and now she hasn't got
but one eye and it looks bad She used to be
real pretty and we called her curley Lock
cause her hair is curley, but IL makes you
kind o. sick when you see that crate hole in
her face, and she keeps rag tied over it
mostly, and she cries great deal, cause she
looks so homely, and the dr. He says she ought
TO have Glass eye, but they don't make them
here, and she's too poor any way cause her
fathers dead, and her mothers sick I've
kind o. adopted her and want TO get her an
eye awful Say, won't you help me- You con
address mo
JOHNNIE LEE Esq
"P. Saint this paper pretty, bought it
to the Post office and it cost five cents"
Harry Temple leaned back in his
chair and gave a low whistle. The
typewriter looked up from her pile of
letters and smiled; but Harry was busy
rereading the letter.
Just before the noon hour, when Mr..
Brayton returned to his office, he was
given his mail, and as he proceeded to
open it, he noticed that young Temple
fingered.
'What is it?'' he asked.
"Here is letter." hesitattngly re-
piled the young man, (which l don't
know whether you wish to see or not"
and he turned it over in his hand.
'0ne of your famous crank letters?'"