The Princeton union. [volume] (Princeton, Minn.) 1876-1976, 1896-01-09

moments, and then said pointedly:
So you were the thirteenth man to
take your seat?"
clair rudely. He was losing command
of himself. What does it matter to
! you? sS
% me-nOt at all. To yOu-perhaps
/ much, was the strange reply Of Sed-
ley.
After this remark there was nothing
i to be said. The gayety, if there were
any, was hopelessly gone, and after a
gloomy cup Of coffee and a funereal
cigar, the party rose, prompted by
Sedley, who declared that he must go.
| why are you in such hurry 2"
asked Vernon, Hospitality.
Il have something to attend to which
cannot wait" he replied. 81 beg you
to excuse me. You know would not
leave the gathering were it not COM
pulsory; but must leave you. am
waited for''
| And as he pressed Vernon's hand 1
saw, by the peculiar expression Of the
hosts face, that he had noticed the
same odd feeling in Sedley's hand that
had struck me. h
Sedley turned to Sinclair.
Goodnight, SIR" he said. Ihope
you may come to have more liberation
| for the superstition of others. Good
night; we shall meet again.
| AS he took Sinclair's hand in his
| saw that same strange feeling which
had struck Vernon and myself was
| pervading him.
"Confound the fellow!'' cried Sin
clair, when. the door was closed be-
hind the gloomy guests "He's a nice
! one to have at convivial gathering
He reminds me Of those cheerful Trap
| pists, one of whose customs is to have
| a little friar at every meal, whose
duty 1T is to say, at intervals: Broth
ers, we must all die Good-by, and
| good radiance. May the devil go with
| himvs FIJI 4 = ~ .0.1-
The words chung to me: sMay the
devil go with him!' The devils A
strange farewell truly, to departing
| guest. 4@
IS
Six months had passed since the
evening Of the disagreeable dinner [
| have described. Business matters had
| called me from the city the very day
| after it took place, and they had been
| OF such nature as to keep me away
a much longer time than I had antici-
pated. had heard nothing, or next
to nothing, from home since my de-
parture. One of the very first things
that teaches a man how little his
friends care for him is their utter in
difference to MIN the moment his back
is turned. -. 81. .s.s.
| Well, as said, I had been away for
a long time, and knew nothing Of what
had been taking place since my de-
parture. One Of the first men I went
to see on my return was Vernon, and
I besought him to tell me the news.
| News" said he; "news? I know
nothing. It seems to me that you are
the one to tell the news-you who
have been roaming. We here have
been leading our everyday humdrum
existence with nothing to chronicle
and nothing to tell.' .-.e
Nothing to tellv' exclaimed. s'That
is always the cry of him who stays at
home. He does not realize that every
thing is of interest to the wanderer-
eryth1ng-scandal, births, marriages
and DEATHS
deaths yes said he, thoughtfully.
'You speak Of deaths. OF course you
know that Gerald Sinclair is dead?''
Gerald Sinclair dead!" said I. "You
|
vigorous man, and the last I saw of
him he was in the most robust of
health. Of what did he die?"
''The doctors called it pneumonia, :"
replied Vernon, with a short cough.
Pneumonia? Well, well! They say
| it is the bane Of civilization; that our
| heated rooms, carelessness In expo
sure, and ways of living encourage it..
Yet true it is that our grandfathers
scarcely knew of it. So Gerald Sin
clair is dead. Poor fellow! Why, it
seems but yesterday saw him in the
heyday Of manhood. Let me see
when was it that saw Sinclair last?
Why, it was at that dinner you gave,
the day before I went away.
Yes" assented Vernon, sit was an
unfortunate dinner. shall never for
get it. OF course you know that Hud-
son Sedley is dead?'
''Sedley, too?" cried more shocked
than l cared to show. ''No, knew
nothing of it. What was the matter
with him? When did he die?"
why, he died the day after you
left the city-the day after the dinner,
you know, or the night before" added
Vernon, gloomily. SIN sure I don't
know. There was some talk concern
AAts, - - was tCly
BUT tell me about it, I said; II am
entirely in the dark. I know nothing
that has taken place since my de-
parture."
WELL" said Vernon, uneasily, 81 am
sure | don't like to talk about it, for
it's very strange affair. If a man
discusses it seriously he feels queer.
You remember the dinner, Of course ?'
Il remember it very WE'LL"
We'll, you remembe. the strange
manner of Sedley, his late arrival, his
altered demeanor and his clammy
hands? can feel the corpse-like,
clutch of his hand in mine yet
And Vernon inspected his hand un-
easily, as if he expected to see marks
upon it.
Yes; go on, .5s5.
You know, too, that he and. Gerald
Sinclair had some wordy sparring, in
which Gerald didn't come off best, as
he generally did. I don't know that
Sedley said it in so many words, but
he certainly left the impression on
most Of our minds that Jack was GO
ing to die before the year was OUT