The record-union., 1898-01-30
BESELENA'S PRATTLE.

Especial Correspondence of Record-unicn)
PORTLAND (Or.). Jan. -. one
doesn't have to go far TO find either
comedy or tragedy in this old world of
ours. The drama of human life Is
played about US every day, and we poor
mortals are the victims of the puppet
snow. Shakespeare never uttered a
more forceful truism than when he
said: All the worlds a stage. and all
the men and women merely players. -
sometimes we occupy the center of the
stage ourselves. and our friends sit in
the audience and watch the progress
or the tragedy or comedy of our lives;
then, again. the case is reversed. and
We temporarily vaeate the stage to sit
ourselves in the audience
| was reminded of all this not long
ago by the sight of a certain pretty
girl whom l passed almost every day
ON the street. She was attractive
enough to arouse more than passing
interest, but what particularly drew my
attention toward her was a certain cold
hard, indifferent look on her face not
good TO see on one so young. / con-
fess my curiosity was aroused. and
l resolved to find out her story. for
that she had one | felt certain For
a long while l could find no one who
knew her personally; every one had
seen her at one time or another, and
every one had, like myself. noticed the
strange look on her face, but who she
was, or where she lived was a mystery
Then one day / had the good fortune
to meet woman who had known the
young lady in question all her life,
and she told me her story 1t all hap
pened some years ago, and as the young
lady no longer lives in the West, and
furthermore has been married for sew
eral years, | do not think there will
be any harm done if 1 repeat her lit
tie romance
AS l said before, the young lady
whom we will call Florence, was more
than pretty, but the woman who told
beauty to-day was simply the wreck
of what it had been.
In the zenith of her young woman
hood Florence had been gay, dashine
girl; attractive to men and women
alike, which is a rare combination. Be
cause of her beauty, wit and never
failing good-humor, she was the ac-
knowledged belle of her set. When
ever she appeared she was immedi-
ately surrounded by a crowd of ad-
mirers and by her consummate tact
and skill she managed to keep them
all on the best of terms. But among
her crowd of beaux there was one who
seemed if possible, even more devoted
than the rest. In fact, at quite an
early stage he assumed quite an air of
proprietorship. Every moment he could
spare away from his business he was
with her After while his attentions
became so marked that whenever any
of the other fellows came to pay a
call, or to spend an evening, he would
sit in a corner and glare upon them
as though they had no right to be there.
He was a handsome, cynical, blase
man of the world, and who could blame
the girl if her head got a little bit
turned by his unmistakable attentions?
At first his persistency amused her;
after a while it made her angry, and
then when she saw that he would not
be driven off she began to regard him
seriously. Her friends, noting the way
things were going, chaffed her good
deal; and after a While the men, one
by one, began to drop off, and ere long
she found herself occupying the posi-
ton of an engaged girl, but still with
out formal betrothal. The attentions
of her admirer were becoming more
and more marked, now that he had the
field to himself, and the girl began to
wonder why he delayed asking her the
all ll-important question she had every
right to expect.
At last the denoument came. One
day, upon returning from a shopping
expedition she met her admirer on the
street. He relieved her of her pack
ages, and then, as a matter of course,
walked home with her. In the sitting
room he said abruptly:
Florence, l want to tell you some
thing"
Its come at last" thought the girl,
and l have no doubt that she thought
with purely feminine satisfaction Of how
she would keep him in suspense for his
answer for his treatment of her, but she
never got the chance for his next words
were:
You're an awfully good girl, Florence,
and l like you tremendously. I like you
so much that We're I a marrying man
I'd marry you; / really would
Is it any wonder then that from that
time that girl became almost misan-
thrope? From lively, fun-loving girl
she became soured and embittered