The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1895-06-06
MY COUSIN NARY.

ltSwas my sad fortune, from earliest
\ boyhood up, to bega failure in all ways.
! WAS not SO handsome as could have
4 been expected in the sou Of my beauti-
I ful mother and the young father who
died before was born, and who was
also beautiful. was told. was not
brilliant, though both sides Of the
house shovel men and women u ex-
cellentsa bil;ty and. worst OF all, / was
{ not good, though this puzzled me not q
little as q child, for my intentions were
OF a magnificent order, and the result
4 ant Gehavi not nearly. SO reprehensi-
1 BILE as that of many boys knew, less
punished. III S j. Nv s5$s
But, ia some way, the things ! meant
to do failed Of acconpli shn1c.lt, or were
found. when accomplished. to have
most unhappy consequences; and the
things did under pressure OF disci-
pline were seldom 81 tisfactory. IA. 4. u
Years Of reproof and often overheard
complaint as to my trying disposition
finally convinced me Of my unworthi-
ness, and ii time grew to look at nay
life as a failure, merely an opportunity
for al; much self-indulgence as could be
procured without too great expense.
& Being of a lazy and luxurious dispo-
sition, Il early fell into the ha Bit of do
irving an inexhaustible fund Of pleas
ure from mere ina gination of what
things might be; to console myself for
Intellectual struggle tomake them such.
AS a little boy ! was sent to bed with
military precision by my infexible
mother, usually with a sense Of failure
and ill-doing in the day behind me,
and used to lie mute and still in my
little chamber and make up to myself
in royal bursts Of imagination for the
disappointment Of the real life. How
often, SO lain, and thought to be sound
asleep; have, in spirit, not only es-
tablished my prominent virtues by q
series of noble acts-so easy to imagine,
so difficult to perform in the gray irlk-
someness Of everyday life-but besides
this have I ,glutted my infant soul with
the sweet vengeance Of rnagnanimity;
arran cling unparalleled donations and
privileges to be conferred by me, mo
the lanen table and unworthy son, upon
my grateful family and friends. One
sweetest joy 81 these fnir dreams was
that,when I shout bea man, my Cousin
Mary, ~ lo disliked me for the disagree
able boy was, should love and marry
me. @.S $StI d 3S
It was a sore pr oblem with me in
those days to decide whether should
indeed receive the open gratitude OF
nv benefciaries, revelling gloriously
therein; or whether, proudest height of
power concealed, l should bestow all
benefits in secret, and yet remain con-
demned and riticised by the unwit-,
ting, recipients Of my bounty. But my
Cousin Mary in these dreams always;
loved me for myself alone, and then
aftervard- -ah! the jewels i showered
upon her. 4 n Il. ;s.a. &. }sE: 81 ,s 4
!: This. habit. of internally satisfying
myself. Of paying back in triumphant
mngnanirnity for oil ''the stings and
arrows Of outrageous fortune" contin7.
ned with me as5I grew, and remained
my best consolation after had become
antnaspiring reporter On q great news
paper And: still in my solitary cham
Der downtown, when was not SO tired
as to sleep pcrforce in what hours re-
mainc: to me, would console myself
for all the mortifcation OF the day and
Of all the other days in my unhappy,
memory, by proud, unl2arnpcred visions
of what would do under given condi-
tons Of wealth and power: d. s3
Il Splendid conditions these, SO easily.
i.-i.agined, fitting 50 smoothly to my
shoulders as ] planned and adapted
them, but ali! solaugh ably impossible !
,of attainnent. AZ
q And then, all at once, by a chance no
stranger, to be sure, than many q one
was in the daily habit Of recording, 4
there fell into my hands. not talent
and beauty and power, indeed, as I had
demanded in my boyish dreams, but
wealth practically unb bounded, such
wealth as Ioould never ofsmyself have
earned, or won, or found, or in any
least Or faintest way deserved.
To be sure, had been laying myself
out on the old fellow, as ! should never
have dared to do had I known him for
q millionaire, but that was not for be-
nevolence, but q purely selfish appre-
citation Of his boundless fund Of travel
and His society was worth
money to me besides the pleasure OF It,
and therefore did court him assidu-
ously, with many an entertainment !
and excursion, (which again were no
credit oxmy generosity, for had & not
the interminable tickets and passes and
the duty OF going to all there weary
things2 a duty much lightened by the
society Of the lounging, invalid old
whom / supposed 70 richer
than myself.
Z told him my story, such as it was;
and I am fam to think that some sub
tie sympathy, some consciousness OF Q
similar experience in his own boyhood,
made him take more Of aninterest than
] then suspected in this poor series OF
failures called my life.
Then he died very suddenly and
serenely. leaving mesome unbelievab BILE
millions, and as no one but his solicitor
knew that he had any money. SO no
one knew that / had any; and behold
me forthwith in exactly the position
Of nv childish hearts desire.