The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1896-08-22
A FORGETFUL TRAMP.
He Has Deep Sorrow, But He Cannot
Remember What 1t is All About.

Remember What II Is All About.
He tossed gold eagle to the evidently
astonished tramp.
LAS liberal as in the old Bagdad days,
l see," said the wandered "Many thanks
sir. All, how l used to enjoy reading your
adventures! They are among the very few
things can remember"
YOU'RE very kind, I'm sure" said Sind
bad. do you have trouble with your
memory?'
81 should say did, replied the tramp
"Why, l can hardly remember anything
that's why am tramping. | can't attend
to any sort of business on account of that
memory OF mine-or, rather, on account OF
its absence. | used to be an expert book
keeper, but | forgot the significance of
! figures, and made the most absurd mis-
takes. This seriously annoyed my en-
ployers, and the result was that couldn't
hold position more than twenty four
hours. Why, I've even forgotten my
name; call myself James p. Brown; but
Pm sure that's nothing like my real
name.'
Now this is very gratifying, - said Sind
bad in an aside to Tom; she has forgotten
even his own name, yet he remembers
mine and my adventures Then he
asked: "When and how did you lose your
memory, sir?"
"Why, I've forgotten even that" re-
piled Mr.. Brown; "but l think it was
when l had a bad cold some years ago.
Still, I'm not sure, but that somebody
hypnotized me. Really, don't know how
it happened
"You seem man of intelligence, said
the great explorer.
"Oh, | ann the tramp fastened to as
sure him. 81 know a great deal, and if I
only could remember it, you'd find me Il
very entertaining provided my
sorrow did not make me disinclined to
converse; it might"
"Eh? You're WHAT" queried Sndbad
my sorrow. Oh, forgot to mention
to you that have deep sorrow, which is
constantly preying upon me, and will
eventually end my career"
Dear dear" exclaimed Sindbad with
an expression of genuine concern. "Why,
this is very sad don't like to be obtru-
sive, but if you don't mind telling what
your sorrow is"
"My dear Mr. Sindbad," interrupted
Mr.. Brown, nothing would give me
greater pleasure-melanchol pleasure you
understandable to contide all to you,
but the truth of the matter is | have for
gotten what my sorrow is. I've had it for
years, and know it's something very pain
full but to save my life can't remember
what it is, nor have been able to for-I
forgot how many years"
"But how is it possible" asked Sindbad
naturally puzzled, "for you to be worrying
yourself into the grave over sorrow which
you have forgotten all about?'
"Why, don't you see?" cried the tramp.
that's just the point; it's the suspense
that's killing me. If knew exactly what
it is that worries me l shouldn't worry
nearly so much. 1t is the dreadful uncer-
tainty of the thing. Perhaps | have killed
some one, and am tortured by remorse; or
maybe have lost an immense fortune in
rash speculation; or-or-but why theorze
on the subject? The fact remains that |
cant remember anything about it. Now,
put it to you, isn't that enough to driye
man half frantic?'
Yours is certainly peculiar case," re-
marked Sindbad thoughtfully. 81 don't
think have ever heard of one exactly like
it,"
ooh, I'm sure you never have, said Mr.
Brown. "If | ever have I've completely
forgotten about it," And he sighed heav-
ily.-''Sinbad, Smith & Co., by Albert
Stearns, in August st. Nicholas.