The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1895-02-28
FORGET-ME-NOTS.
The Story of the Stub End of
Tragedy.

hotel, of Beicherville. Tex. has in his
possession some well-worn, we'll
marked books which tell a story very
different from anything that might be
read on their printed pages. They tell
that the stub end of a tragedy burned
itself out a few months ago on
these Texas premises the stub
end of life which in its begin
ming must surely have been full
of more than usual hope and promise.
Robert Henderson is the name written
in these books; or. at any rate. it will
do Just as well as if it We're. If should
give the correct name, there is at least
one person in the world who, if she
should see these lines, would find life
darker for having read them. That
person is his mother. Doubtless it is
dark enough for her as it is, and for
her sake l find it convenient to forget
the real name on the hy~leaves of the
books at the Bilbo house.
One of these books is a cheaply bound
copy of Tennyson's poems. 1t has been
well thumbed but the only passage
that has been marked is this one from
"Locksley HALL"
remember one who persisted; sweetly did she
look and move.
Such an one do l remember, whom to look at
to love.
Another one is an Oxford Bible,
which shows by its inscription that it
was presented to Robert Henderson by
his mother on his twentyffth birth
day. in 81 The others are all of a
musical nature, containing oratoriOs.
Italian operas and other compositions
of the highest and most classical order.
All of these We're formerly the prop
erty of Henderson, but when he got
badly behind with his board bill, and
Mr. Bilbo had to sell his trunks and
books to satisfy the account, these were
left over from the sale. The Tennyson
and the Bible were kept by Grandpa
Bilbo, because he supposed they would
likely be especially priced by his form
er boarder. Accordingly. he laid them
away to keep until Henderson should
call for them. He is still waiting. and
will likely continue waiting for long,
long time yet-in fact, till that most
tenacious of custodians. the grave,
shall give up the prisoners which it
hoIuo ~ was u BOCN' SNIlSlO Jus ILL
pulse that prompted Grandpa BilbO to
save these two books for Henderson,
but with the music books it was other
wise. He kept these simply because
no one would buy them. He could
probably have sold a few copies of Cos
pei Hymns or Harvest Bells if he had
tried little, but the market for operas
oratorios in northwest Texas is far
from active.
Robert Henderson first came to Bel
cherville in 1891, and at once began
boarding at the Bilbo house. He never
thought it necessary to explain where
he came from or what his purpose had
been in leaving there. His occupation
seemed to consist principally in trying
to find out how much whisky man
can drink without ever becom-
ing actually and beastly drunk. He
was tall, magnificently-made young
fellow, with short, black beard COW
ering the whole of his rather intellec-
tual face. His clothes were rich and
stylish in appearance, but well worn
and withal rather scant in quantity. He
seemed too much wrapped up in his
books and his Own reflections to care
much for the confidence or even the
society of his fellows.
The first thing about him to attract
the unfavorable notice of the Belcher-
vile people was his conduct at the
graveyard on one occasion when a lit
tie child was being buried there. For
some reason he had gone with the lit
tie procession to the burial place. but
instead of standing near the grave to
hear the burial services he wandered
off into one corner by himself. No one
paid any attention to him for awhile
but finally one of the bystanders hap
pened to glance in his direction.
Say Look at that fellow there he
called out, hurriedly, but in an under
tone, so as not to interrupt the service.
whats he kicking them graves for?"
Henderson was stamping on a low,
poorly-kept mound with all his might
kicking it and digging his boot heels
into it as if bent on obliterating what
slight elevation there was to it. BY
this time three or four men had noticed
him, and hArriedly leaving the little
group of mourners they strobe quietly
over to where he was. Henderson saw
them coming and faced round at them
defantly.
Say, partner" said one, in an earn
est undertone, that won't do"
"What won't?'
''Ruinin' that baby's grave
at isn't your baby, is it?'
mo, you bet it amt. You'd have
been in -- before this if it had beeN =
1T wasn't the grave | was kicking.
1t was those devilish things on it."
What things?"
"Those!" said Henderson. as he point
ed the toe of his boot toward some little
blue flowers that lay half buried in the
mud and dirt into which they had been
crushed.
Whats the matter with them?"
with them? They're forget-me-
nots," exclaimed Henderson through
his clenched teeth. Then in perfect
paroxysm of fury he stamped upon the
little blue flowers again and again to
complete the work of destruction he
had begun. The three bystanders