The state republican. (Jefferson City, Mo.) 1871-1896, 1895-06-13
THE HINGES OF FATE.
From the Washington Post.

him that Sunday evening, he had
strolled that way with friend, and
was now about to take the horse car
and return to his Office on F street,
smoke cigar, and consider his bus
iness programme for the coming
week. The car was slow in making
It's advent.
While George W. Curtis waited q
pretty girl came up. She, too, had
plans which included the street car;
and 80, standing a safe ten feet from
George w. Curtis the pretty girl
shared his vigil. She paid no heed
to George W. Curtis, bat he noticed
that she was arrayed in blue flannel
frock, which had blue flannel sus-
penders crossed over a white waist.
George w. Curtis had always deemed
those costumes very elegant. But
he was in no sense a masher, and
after allowing his eyes the benefit Of
the pretty girl for a moment, he
turned them in quest OF the car and
thought no more about her. The
pretty girl did not think of George
w. Curtis at all.
1t is all but certain that had 1t not
been for peculiarly dull conductor
this romance would have ended here.
Most horse car conductors are
bright, sprightly men, and of a
pretty wit of their own. But this
member of the guild was dull; or,
perhaps, he was preoccupied with
troubles of his own. This was what
the dull conductor did, and drove
these two doves back into the net
which the fowler Fate was spreadidg
for them.
"Tickets7" he queried, as George
W. Curtis rendered two bits.
"Tickets," remarked George W.
Curtis.
Tha conductor tore off two tickets
for George w. Curtis and for the
pretty girl, being misled therein by
the fact that they had come aboard
together. Then the conductor re-
paired to the back platform, turned
his back on George W. Curtis and the
pretty girl. and softly whistled
"Never Take the Horseshoe from the
Door"
George w. Curtis was in q di.
lemma. The pretty girl did NOT
know that he had inadvertently paid
her fare, and she sat opposite with
her nickel in her waiting little hand.
Should George w. Curtis break the
truth to her? He decided that he
must. She wonld find it out before
she left the car and get things all
tangled up to his discredit trying to
understand.
81 beg your PARDON" said George
W. Curtis, bending toward the pretty
Shi anu iiiIibS LILO hdUS UuU bu0 ldCu
is, Miss, that fool of conductor has
done me the honor to suppose you
are with me, and has collected your
fare from me on that theory"
The pretty girl seemed much
abashed, blushed deeply, and finally
getting it straight in her young mind,
rendered George W. Curtis her
nickel.
"Not at ALL" said George W. Cur
tbs, waving it away, "I wanted to
tell you, because I didn't care to
have you think was attempting any
cigarette play to make your acquaint-
ance."
Then they sat still for four blocks,
George w. Curtis looking excess
sively virtuous. At last the pretty
girl rendered him the nickel again.
This time George w. Curtis came
over and sat down by her, the better
to explain how much he didn't want
the nickel.
She said her name was Bessie.
George w. Curtis had always held
that Bessie was a lovely name; he
would bet FIVE to one that 1t was the
loveliest of all names. Bessie lived In
Richmond, and was visiting her aunt
on Rhode Island avenue. Bessie was
going nowhere in particular; merely
riding about, viewing the city. Un-
less Bessie objected, George w.
Curtis would ride about with ber,
and give her his advice and counsel
as to how to view the city with
success. Bessie was a bit worried,
but finally did not object. George
W. Curtis saw Bessie safely into tho
hands of the Rhode Island avenue
aunt at 8 O'Clock. The Rhode Island
avenue aunt beheld nothing to shy at
in George w. Curtis. He called tho
next night. Tuesday evening he
took Bessie and the Rhode Island
avenue aunt to hear the Marine
Band in the White House grounds.
Wednesday Bessie went home. Then
George W. Curtis wrote. His letters
grew warmer and warmer, and tho
postal people were made uneasy -
they handled them.
This story began two years ago.
One day last week George W. Curtis
and Bessie were married. And on
such hinges does one's future swing.