The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1896-08-07

tlSt she was gone dismayed him. He
remembered the girl he had loved, and
shed tears at the grave of the woman
who had developed from her. Not ana
lyzing, not drawing the distinction, but
just grieving honestly.
And January came to an end, and
February broke, and then February
waned, and 1t was March.
Collier was surprised to find how rap
idly the time had passed since the
funeral He put March II at the top
of a letter very slowly and sat looking
at it with startled eyes A month more
and the consummation would be
reached. Poor little "Chick," he would
have to leave her!
Oddly, now the end of 1t oil was so
near, he was conscious of feeling less
impatience than he had done. He had
been sensible of late of a certain pleas
ure in life-a new pleasure. The fact
was that the conditions had altered!
He would have been q cheerful man to-
day, for all his pecuniary worries, if he
had been allowed; nor did the worries
themselves look so formidable some
how! Eva had always made the worst
of everything. and-Heaven forgive him
had been a manager. 1t was amazing
what difference her removal caused
in every wayl He was satisfied with
life and-he knew he did not want to
die.
At last he determined to go to Orkney
and ask him to release him from his un-
dertaking. 1t was an unpleasant task,
but the alternative was more distasteful
still.
Mr.. Orkney looked at him in blank
disapproval when he had stammered
to a conclusion.
'sThis is very unbusiness-like," he
said; "very unbusiness-like, indeed!
You put me In very awkward situa-
ton, Collier. / don't want to see you
die, Of course-I-I hope have q heart
but an agreement is an agreement,
and have great occasion for 1000.
As it happens, 1 have @ bill
an other words,' said Collier, rising,
you won't consent?"
"Iregret," said Orkney, II regret very
much that you should have put such a
suggestion forward, because ON un-
able to consent to 1t, and it is q par
ticularly painful one to refuse I do not
think it was delicate, Collier"
Finally, you insist on your pound of
Hesh2"
FINALLY" responded the lawyer, Il
repeat that If you are man of honor
only one course can be adopted. Good
day"
He touched the bell on his table and
Collier passed out
ITO Be or Not to Be, "The Pound of
Tleshn-what a number of titles sug-
gested themselves for the story that
might be written! He could not put
the thought of it away from him, and
one evening he actually found himself
sitting at his desk commencing it. 1t
was foolish proceeding, but it occu-
pied-more, interested him, and his pen
few rapidly. He treated the subject in
q serious narrative.
At one o'clock he came to the point
where the end must be led up to. But
how was it to end? He rose, and began
to pace the room, mechanically charg-
ing his pipe afresh. 1t would not draw
where were the wires? He could not
think If he did not smoke, and the thing
was stopped up.
The wires could not be found; per-
laps he had used the last. Formerly
lie had annexed his wife's hairpins in
such emergencies, and, as last re-
source, it occurred to him that if he
looked in the wardrobe where her be-
longings had been put away he would
find some.
There were some hairpins scattered
ut the bottom. There was also bundle
Of letters, tied together with ribbon,
and directed in o handwriting that
looked familiar. Collier stared at it.
Was he making q mistake-or what had
been the purpose of this correspon>
dence? He turned white, and pulled the
letters out.
The dates they bore We're of the last
two years. There was nothing criminal
in them, despite their lengthiness, but
they were a mans confidential COM
munications to woman of whom he is
fond. They spoke of the writer's sym
pathy," of his regret that he could do
nothing to alleviate the dreariness of
her lot; there were frequent illusions
to what might have been;" and they
began, Dearest Mrs Collier" and were
signed, Yours with affection, Horace
Orkney"
George stumbled out of the bedroom.
and returned to the workshop" where
he sank into his chair. with knitted
brows, thinking. After awhile he
picked up his pen again, but he did not
continue the tale.
"Dear Sir" he wrote, II restore you
the inclosed letters, for which have no
use. Henceforth shall make my home
IN the country with my daughter. 1
perceive that her mothers untimely de-
cease frustrated your hope Of marrying
u widow whose attractions would have
been accentuatcd by the possession, of
10000, and tender you my condolence.
The bequest In my will will stand. as
you pointed out yourself once, l may
live, in the ordinary course Of events,
for another 40 years. Believe me, have
every intention of doing so if l can.
Yours truly, George Collier"
And he did, and became q very suo'
cessful man.-Chicago Tribune
Logic.
Every one knows that Triest forms
part of the "Unredeemed Italy" which