Pullman herald. [volume] (Pullman, W.T. [Wash.]) 1888-1989, 1900-10-13

NJ pONGttS dOCo hOb AChdSA "a man
morbid it makes him gentle and
kind-hearted. That is what 1t did
for Jonathan Harrod. In the early
days we had roomed together In col
lege-I was going to say slept together,
but Jonathan seldom slept. He smoked
and drank coffee and worked instead,
and blossomed into winner of prizes.
AS Jonathan was In love as well as in
debt, and just as prone as | to substi-
tute pipes for meals when the larder
was low, we learned to love each other
during those four years with an affec-
ton that was firm and confiding.
Jonathan used to advise me to fall in
love, too. Il tell you, old man." he
would say, when opening a letter of
familiar blue, when you are not feel
ing we'll, and the world CRATES ON you
like a camePs-hair shirt, there is moth
ing SO good as an old-fashiOned love
letter"
The writer OF the old-fashioned mis-
sives lived out West, in Harrods ma
tive town, and, although | never met
her, | came to know her almost as well
as Harrod did, he spoke of her so often.
And then / used to watch his face
when he read her letters. They must
have been tender and sympathetic, but
withal dash of ambition and inspira
ton in them. No tale of village gossip
could have brought that light into jon
athan's eyes nor that flash of color to
his cheek. At their conclusion he would
dream a while, perhaps, and then fall
at his books and work like mad.
He showed me her picture one night.
She was dark-with a high forehead
and shadowy eyes. The mouth and
chin were both we'll formed but rather
masculine. 1t was a beautiful face,
though not pretty.
Although Harrod had loved the girl
all his life-and she him, If there be
aught in the signs of the zodiac-they
had misunderstanding of some sort
or other during the summer that fol
lowed his graduation. When he re-
turned East the following autumn he
was Quieter than ever before, and, If
possible, more gentle and sympathetic.
A1C anu 4 hdd LOOlllS tOSClHCI, W nSIt, III
lieu of other inexpensive pastimes, we
were wont to spend the evenings work
ing and reading. | saw from the first
that something allied him; and, as he
no longer received the blue envelopes,
nor counseled me to lose my heart, |
guessed the reason and asked no ques-
tons. He did not become apathetic-
Jonathan didn't. His old habit of work
was stronger than ever. And now his
stories began to appear occasionally In
the magazines. and the dear public to
recognize his name and to read what
went with it.
Two years had passed away before
Jonathan had made even the slightest
reference to this love affair of his, and
that was when he came into my room
one cherries, gray November after
noon, the picture of abject melancholy.
In his hand was crumpled piece Of
paper This he placed before me on
the table, then he went and seated him
self before the fireplace, where | could
not see his face The paper was clip
ping from some inland journal describ-
ing in ford terms the wedding of Miss
Winifred Conover to one Amos Schen-
eek. Only half the article had been
clipped evidently, and this had been
pasted on half-sheet of note paper.
Tread the tawdry effusion through, then
twisted it to pieces and dropped It
into the waste basket.
Jonathan, my boy" said, going
over and seating myself on the arm of
his chair, who sent you this thingY
! II do not know" And there was a
world of sadness in his voice. 1.-The en-.
velope was addressed in strange hand
and not word accompanied it."
We were both silent for a moment.
The logs were burning cheerily, outside
the wind was blowing a gale. Jonathan
sat with his face in his hands "When
came here to you just now," he said,
II was chilled and lonely-the day is
so somber, and l had been tramping
all over the country, and-well, / came
to say good-by. l wanted to leave this
life and wait for Winifred in the next,
for"-his voice went straight to my
! heart-"ah, Billy, love her sou | re-
garded him with compassion. "You lie
down here on the lounge before the
fire." commanded him, land stop this
brOoding." l pushed forward the
couch as l spoke, and he dropped on it
like an obedient child. He gave me one
grateful look, and then, under the In
fuence of the genial warmth and the
fatigue Of many vigils fell fast asleep.
! There are days In the lives of us all,
rub nd