The copper country evening news. [volume] (Calumet, Mich.) 18??-1907, 1897-04-13
A YOUTHS ADVENTURES.
Which, whether Truth or Fiction, Are De-
cidedly Interesting.

| cidedly Interesting.
When riding in the tram car through
the widest parts of Peckham Rye,
writes u contributor To the London
News, with II friend-we We're bound
ON journalistic errand-a bronzed
young man of marine appearance jump
ed into the car and at once recognized
my companion. Before we had gone
very far was deep in one of the oldest
family histories. This new arrival, it
seems, when boy of ii, had been pos
sessed by the fear of consumption, that
| fell disease having carried off his brother
and threatening his father and mother
Accordingly he read every book that he
could lay his hands on dealing with the
subject, and, as the result of his read
ing, ran away to Bournemouth to be
near the pines. Having no funds, he
engaged himself to a local fishmonger,
carrying his masters fish to the various
customers. When the days work was
done, he shouldered hammock which
he had brought with him and camped
among some of those pines for which
that southern health resort is famous.
One night gentleman, sauntering
along, smoking cigar, noticed him,
and, being amazed at this al fresco"
bed, entered into conversation with
him. why, know who you are" ex-
claimed the consumptive youth ut last.
You're Mr. Louis Stevenson, the man
who wrote Treasure Island. f" "How
do you know" said the gentleman.
Because l deliver you fish. You live
at Skerryvore. " $50 l do" replied
Stevenson, for he it was sure enough.
I" But you don't talk like a fishmongers
boy. y No more do, " replied the boy,
and he then poured his strange secret
into the novelist's ear, which was SYM
pathetic enough, you may be sure.
The result of this odd meeting was an
invitation to breakfast. "Oh, and l did
eat, said the young man. He told the
story so loudly that the whole train
laughed. And the servants couldn't
make it out at all to see the distin-
guished author entertaining poor me.
Then he went to Paris, and | never
saw him again for a long while" The
pines not proving strong enough, the
strange youth was seized with yearn.
ing for the scent of the eucalyptus and
persuaded his friends TO send him to
sea. When he reached Sydney, he sold
his outfit and ran away into the bush
and lived in the open with eucalyptus
galore. Thence, after many adventures,
he sailed for the south seas and abode
by reef and palm for many long year
One day when cruising as supercargo
among the Gilbert islands, / think, "a
European swell in beautiful white !
duck, great red sash and spreading
panama hat, with a peacocll's feather in |
it, came aboard the schooner. Good |
Mr.. Stevenson, said the su- !
percargo. Mr. Stevenson looked and |
who knew him in these faroff |
seas. Il don't know you he said,
shaking his head. But | know you.
Don't you remember the fishmonger's i
boy who ate such big breakfast at |
Skerryvore?" So do. Well, the world
is small indeed" And no doubt the
two had pegs and tiffin-or whatever
hey call such things in the islands-to-
yether. What strange, small world it
IS indeed! Well, one succumbed to the
Tread disease; the other is as hearty "a
fellow as ever | saw. 1t was quaint,
grim fancy to 60 lodging phthisis all
over the world!-London News