The Forrest City times., 1897-03-26

its proyerbial occupation of killing cats, wouldn't you? We'll, perhaps you would. but in that case you would be unlike Mir. Gordon Smith, the youthful multi-millionaire, philanthropist, tinan- cier, etc.
 MT. Smith was sitting in his favorite club one afternoon completely in the dumps and passing his time in medtat- ing silent profanity, which was both sinful and unsatisfactory. Sinful, be- cause all theologians agree that to think an evil is as bad as to commit it, and unprofitable because it didn't clear his mental atmosphere. And the sole cause of his wrath was that his name was ex- plotted in the evening papers on account of his giving some thousands of dollars to help deserving charity. MT. Smith was certainly strange man.
 While he was fidgeting in his lea ther- cushioned chair and slipping a glass of vichy. quiet-looking man entered the loom, looked about, and then bounced on Smith like bird of prey.
 Hello, Gordie!" he exclaimed, ex- tending his hand. How are you?'
 Well, AL" exclaimed the millionaire, with an amount of animation that seemed incredible from one who had been so dejected a moment before, I'm awfully glad to see you. When did you get back from Paris?"
 Last Wednesday,"
 Strange l didn't see anything about it in the papers. They always have so much to say about you on the sporting page. And say," he rattled on, with out noticing the look of mild ccnsterna- ton that came over the newcomers face at the mention of the sporting page, what time you have been hay ing abroad! l read all about your breaking the bank in that club and about that little affair of J yours in Paris. 0. l say!" and he gave chuckle that immediately suggested Sunday school superintendent gone wrong.
 ''But," gasped the man with past, you speak of it as if you enjoyed it all. How-er-I don't understand"
 "Oh, yes. l suppose you saw in the evening papers about my contributing to that confounded charity. We'll, it is just my luck to be always doing goody- goody things and never having any fun. When 1 went to Sunday school got a good conduct card every Sunday, and the same blasted luck has stuck to me ever since. l was born with a good Lame, and I've got to pass it along to posterity untarnished, and can't have any fun to save me-"
 The sporty one whistled softly.
 ''I know you think l am crazy, but you just happened to come in when l was Tn one of my worst fits of blues, and to see you who have made a world wide reputation as sport and man of the world threw me off my guard and l talked too much, but now that I've started may as well tell you all."
 Do; it may do you good-but-talk- ing is dry work"
 why, certainly. Here, Jean, take the gentleman's order. A pint of Extra Dry? All right; and bring me some fresh viehy."
 When the order was filled the two men settled into confidential attitudes.
 You remember, don't you, Al, when we were school chulns and used to read the dime novels you got from the stable boys?" Al nodded. Well, you could play at killing Indians any time you liked, but whenever l tried it l was sure to be caught by that old hen of a tutor had and get soundly thrashed. It was so all through my boyhood, and l simply had to be good. l worked twice as hard at my studies as any other boy, but it was not because loved work, if was because wanted to go to college, for l felt sure l could be as wild as pleased there
 "Yes?"
 ~Nell. after I had matriculated. my mother took me down to Cambridge and got me boarding place in the family of minister Of course l could have broken loose, but if had. he would have reported me to her and it would