The citizen. (Frederick City, Md.) 1895-1923, 1896-01-31
THE TROUBLES OF JONES.

self-Jones, the solicitor, at the corner
house on the Green, the great Jones,
whom every body knows.
] state this as simple truth. am
not vain man; if 1 feel that am SUI
perior to all the other Joneses in Hatch
ington, that is Il natural opinion-and
my own private opinion-which l am
not likely to thrust upon the attention
of my fellow-creatures. Heaven for
bid!
Jones is not an uncommon name,
and one must infallibly encounter
other Joneses in the course of ones
pilgrimage through the world, and be
taken for those other Joneses at times
in the newspapers, no matter what
Objectionable proceedings, civil, uncivil
or criminal, those other Joneses may
have been up to.
That is the excessively awkward part
of it, and that accounts for the story
/ am about to relate as graphically as
my powers will allow.
My enemies-and all remarkable men
have their enemies-will tell you an
other kind of story. "a water on the
brain kind of man" ''a swelled-head
sort OF fellow" my enemies have been
heard to whisper of me; but am above
their petty calumnies-far away on the
mountain tops above them.
And now for the other Jones, who
must come and pitch his tent on Hatch
ington Green also, or rather IL little
trurnEery house just around the cor
ner of the Green.
Mr.. Timothy Jones arrived at the lit
tie corner house, and began business
there as a minor poet. l came across
his name sometimes in the newspa-
pers, and once across his portrait, size
of a postage stamp, at the top of para
graph of a half-penny evening newspa-
per, and the exact image of a sooty Jack
Sheppard, without the fringe, a mon
strous picture, and labeled ct. Jones,
of Hatchington Green"
"Don't think great deal of your
husbands portrait in the Evening Per-
twinkle" one of my wife's friends
wrote to Mrs. Thomas Jones; Every
unlike him, especially about the nose.
l am surprised to find that your hus-
band ie poet, too"
If i had wanted to write poetry I
could have turned off reams of rhyme,
l dare say. l consider to be COMPOUNDED
with the man at the corner in the Even
ing Periwinkle was my first humiliat-
ing blow
Presently it came to packets of proofs
being left at my house by the mistakes
of laundering postmen, and then to
important letters of mine going to his
house, and his trumpery correspond
ence coming to mine.
Once this Timothy Jones called on
me to inquire if | had taken in a New
Zealand leg of mutton by mistake; it
should have reached him from Leaden-
hall market by 10 noon.
He was civil enough young fellow,
was Timothy Jones, but overccnfdent.
was glad to put him in his place, now
that the opportunity had presented
itself
''No, sir; we do not deal in New
Zealand mutton here" / explained.
Mrs. Jones has an insuperable objec-
ton to cheap meats, and your mutton
would not have been allowed to come
into the house"
All this was very aggravating to me;
still more aggravating when l found
that my servants had taken the New
Zealand mutton in after all. 1t had
come by carriers cart and the other
Jones had not suggested itself to the
servants minds.
And there it was discovered on our
premises at five in the afternoon, and 1
had heard Timothy Jones say that his
dinner was fixed for six.
l sent the mutton around by the
page, and as Mrs. Thomas Jones
thought it was our duty to apologize
followed the mutton when it had got
good way upon the road-out of
sight and smell.
Timothy Jones was out, so saw Mrs.
Timothy Jones, a pretty little woman
enough, with too much of a smile, per-
haps. l made my apology deliberate
ly and formally, and think thatshew was
impressed by it.
She hoped that l had not troubled
myself to bring the mutton around
great Heavens!-it was of no conse-
quence now, as another joint had been
procured from the local butcher, and
so forth.
Mrs. Timothy Jones offered to shake
hands with me, which l thought
rather familiar proceeding. But 1
shook hands, and l actually kissed that
sticky boy and wishcd-odd that was
that there were three such children
running about that big house of mine.
A few weeks later came the great
source of annoyance, even of shame
just as if it were any fault of my own!
There is published on Saturday In
Hatchington weekly paper principal
ly consisting of advertisements, cribs
from other papers, local news and ran
dom readings. / never looked at the
rag, and therefore it's startling poster
outside the Office door failed to catch
nv eve; but on the station, whilst wait
ing for my customary train to town,
I was considerably astonished to see
in huge Brobdingnagian capitals:
THE MISSING LADY.
Mysterious Disappearance of Mrs. T.
Jones, of Hatchington Green.
:............ .............,...... .............s
You might have knocked me down
with a feather--it seemed so remarka-
bly, lifelike and homelike. For min