The star. (Reynoldsville, Pa.) 1892-1946, 1896-06-24
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worthy, Tearing Tor his bodily preser-
vation, whisked around among the
young caulihowers and ran for his
life. crushing through hot-bed sashes
and entangling his long ankles in
mats Of sweet potato vines.
81 never knowed gentleman with
such a temper before!" painted Sim
mons, as he bolted head foremost
into his tool-shed, among a grove of
dahlia poles and flower pots. 'It's
as much as poor workin' mans life
is worth to live with him !"
Mr.. Solomon Jessamy, left alone
with his blighted scientific expert
ment," danced around about it. in
frenzy of wrath, uttering mingled
lamentations and maledictions.
Suddenly hand was clapped on
his shoulder, and hoarse, chuckling
voice rumbled into his ear:
'I've got you now!"
"Who are you?" barked out Mr..
Jessamy, turning so abruptly that the
goggles fell off his nose and tumbled
into the grass. "Are you aware, sir,
that you nre trespassing on private
property?"- a second individual,
tall and spare, and apprehensive-look-
ing, who kept at n safe distance.
Come, now, none of that !" cried
he, as Mr.. Jessamy tried to wriggle
ont of the grasp of the stouter and
shorter of the two, who was holding
him, as it were, in wise. ''No vio-
lence-it will do no good. Solitary
confinement--that is the thing! Hold
on to him tight, Fisk! That's right.
Into the boat with him I"
And, before Mr.. Jessamy could
raise his voice to halloa for help, they
were darting down the river as fast as
strong arms and pair of broad bladed
oars could propel them.
"What is the meaning of this-this
outrage?" he painted.
SOLITARY confinement-that's the
thing" said the tall man-so litary
confinement!
Mr.. Jessamy stared a curious sem
sation came over him, as if he were
his own seven-year-old boy, going to
be shut up for getting into a passion.
"Eh!" he faltered, "Am l mad?"
The short, stout man grinned; the
tall one nodded oracularly.
"A lucid interval, most probably"
said he. "All the better, Simpson; it
won't be necessary to handcuff him.
Mr.. Jessamy jumped up in the
boat.
The tall man and the short man
fell on him with one accord, and
forced him back into his seat; and al
most at the same moment, the boat
drew up at u little pier or landing, half
hidden in water willows.
"Whither are you taking me?"
breathlessly demanded our hero.
SOLITARY confinement - solitary
confinement-that's the only thing"
murmured the tall man, taking snuff.
"Sir, are you mad?" cried Mr.. Jes-
samy.
No; but you he !" said the short
stout man. EASY now, Mr.. Par
rott!"
"That's not my name," said Mr..
Jessamy. "There's some mistake
here.
"Oh, no, there ain't!" said the
man. "You're Malachi Parrott, aud
you've escaped from the Sanitary
Home; but I guess you won't ag lin /"
My name is Solomon Jessamy, and
won't be made madman in spite of
myself"
"Gammon!" said the assistant
keeper OF the insane asylum. I've
heerd such stories afore."
And, in spite of his remonstrances,
Mr.. Jessamy was hurried off to n
dreary stone building, up an immen-
sity of stairs into small room, with a
barred window, an iron bedstead and
n three-legged stool, with the agree
able prospect of passing the night
therein as recaptured lunatic.
AS the iron door banged upon him
with the "click click" of a spring
lock, and an indescribable sensation
OF lonliness crept over him, he thought
OF poor little Tommy, in the dark
bedroom, supperless, and sorely in
fear of ghouls and goblins.
'Tf l ever get out of this alive, >
thought he, I'll adopt new system of
discipline toward the boy-hanged If
l don't!"