The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1896-01-08

penou TO De ola ana ugly, Dub bhey
would be glad to snap up a man like
you, moving in good society, with a
liberal allowance from your uncle and
hopeful prospects. Then, if your
uncle deserts you afterward, her
money will keep the wolf from the
door and save you from working your
self to death.
Young Tim had morbid horror of
poverty and overwork, and that story
haunted him all day. It shone through
his dismal forebodings like the moon
through a mist; it seemed almost too
good to be true. He dined alone that
evening at a restaurant in the Strand
and, passing a news agents on his way
back into the Temple, he noticed
some matrimonial journals in the win
dow, and went in and bought one. He
was somewhat relieved, on entering
his chambers. to find that Ted Mer
rows was not yet at home. He opened
the journal, and studied the crowded
columns in private, and lighted at
length on a business like advertise
ment which impressed him favorably;
MAUD, young, dark and good looking,
Nl with private income, wishes to corre-
spond with middle-aged gentleman OF means
and position. with view to matrlmony. Ref
erences exchanged.
Replies wero to be sent to letter
Of the alphabet at the Office of the
paper.
Tim was not middle-aged, but he
considered that, if anything, that
should tell in his favor. He read and
reread the advertisement till from
feeling tempted to answer it just to
test the probability OF Ted Merrows's
story, he began to succumb to fresh
fears for his future. aud became
anxious to answer it for his own sake.
"There's no harm in writing" he
argued. IF change my mind or it
doesn't seem good enough ] can drop
it."
And while the impulse was upon
him he wrote. He wrote vaguely of
his income and said nothing of his
age, but craved an interview. If he
explained his precise position, he
feared she might fancy it was too in
secure to render him eligible; but if
he could see her, he fisttered himself
that the charm of his conversation an !
personal presence would dazzle her
and divert her attention from his less
pronounced monetary qualifications.
He signed his own name, ct. Cottle,
because, if the negotiations came to
anything, it might shake her conf
dence when he had to acknowledge
that he had approached her under a
false name at the same time, as she
had'withheld her surname and address,
he felt justified in requesting her to
direct her reply, in the first instance,
to the postoffice in Bayswater Road,
to be left till called for.
"I can look in for it the next time /
go to see uncle" he reflected. ''If it
turns out frost, needn't tell Mer-
rows anything; he'd only grin about
it. I'll get the letter off before he gets
in"
Aud he ran out and posted it at
Cnce.
He half regretted his impetuosity
when he contemplated what he had
done in the cold light of the next
morning.
Nevertheless, a couple of evenings
later he journeyed to Bayswater and
inquired at the Postoffice for his let
ter, but it hadn't arrived. So he
walked on to see Uncle Cottle, but es
his uncle was not at home, he told
49,, - co., 4hok ba bo1 oaIla1 and
wouldn't wait.
His interest in his rash matrimonial
project had COO led considerably; but
going TO see his uncle on the following
Saturday afte rnoon, he inquired
casually at the Postoffice again, and
was not altoget her disploased that
there was still no letter for him. He
decided that his epistle had not Great.
ed satisfactory impression, and that
he should hear no more of it.
Turning the corner little beyond
the Postofiice, he was surprised to run
into Uncle Cottle, gorgeous in a new
white waistcoat and with flower in
his buttonhole.
"rim, my boy" he calculated,
ave been expecting you daily. Sorry
l was out when you called last--I was
out on particular business. "
"Ohi"
Tim had dim premonitions of disas-
ter; he inly upbraided himself for
neglecting the affairs of Miss Holt.
"Yes."
Uncle Cottle winked his left eye and
smacked his nephew on the shoulder
exuberantly.
81 was arranging to get married. "
''To Miss Holt?" faltered Tom.
NO." laughed Uncle Cottle.
"Youll never guess. It's the widow =
Mrs. Netley. You remember, We
wrote to her? She answered my letter
that evening, al hour before you
called"
'But you said," he stanmered,
"that if Miss Holt rejected you you'd
know there was curse on you;
and :"
81 haven't asked Miss Holt be
sides, it's three months since l wrote
to the widow, so, in any case, she has
a sort of prior claim over the"
"The other curse" suggested Tim,
bitterly.
"Here's her letter, " said Uncle Cot
tie, disregardlng his interpolation.
''Read it for yourself.
He thrust the missive into Tins
hands, and he read it dazedly, as they
walked on together.