The Press. (Stafford Springs, Conn.) 1883-1935, 1900-07-12
HIS CASE OF FRIGHT.
ONE MANS STORY OF HOW HE WAS
COMPLETELY UNNERvED.

II Was a Simple Enough Incident,
Yet He Declares That the Simple
Thought of 1t Has Often Since
Brought the Sweat to His Face.
Very few grown up people know
what fright really means, except per-
haps in Dreams" said the quietest man
In the group that had been spinning
yarns in the hotel corridor. when
speak Of fright" he continued, II don't
mean alarm in any of its ordinary
senses-I mean that sort of brute panic
that robs a man of speech, thought and
volition; that turns him sick and cold;
that leaves such a deep and indelible
scar on his whole nervous organism
that the very memory Of it, years aft
erward, will make him quail and shud-
der. 1t is impossible, in my opinion,
for mere danger to produce that feel
ing, even in the rankest towards, for
you must bear in mind it Is not fear
that I ain endeavoring to describe, but
something entirely different, something
against which personal courage fur
nishes no immunity whatever. When
a man is afraid, his instinct Is to run
away, to escape; when he is frighten-
ed, he has no such impulse-he simply
suffers. I never had but one expert
ence of that kind in my life, and the
circumstances of the case were very
commonplace. I'll tell you about it in
as few words as possible.
"In 1889 was holding job as proof
reader in a big printing establishment
in Chicago. The building then occupied
by the concern was a rambling old bar
racks of a place, and the little inclo-
sure where | worked was in the ex-
treme rear of the upper floor, which
was used as a composing room. Next
to my cubby hole was another and
considerably larger Enclosure, where a
religious weekly was set up on special
contract. That second room had
sinister reputation, for the sufficiently
startling reason that it had been the
scene Of two suicides. A former col
lector for the firm, who was short in
his accounts, had gone there to blow
his brains out. and later on poor old
printer, broken down and respondent,
had cut his throat In front of the
cracked looking glass which hung over
the sink. All that happened long be-
fore my time, but the memory of it
abided, and it seemed to invest the
place with peculiar air of gloom.
81 have gone into these details to
give you an idea of the lay of the
premises, and now I'll get to the point.
One night, in the fall of the year. had
an unusual lot of proofs to read and
decided to go back, after a late sup
per, and finish them up before going
to bed. When l reached the building
on my return from the restaurant,
everybody had gone, and the place
was as black and silent as cave, but
let myself in at side door and CROP
ed my way up. stairs, fumbling in my
pockets for a match. To my annoy
ance | didn't have single one, but l
remembered there was boXful on a
table in the office of the religious week
ly, and. knowing the composing room
pretty thoroughly, i started without
hesitation for my den.
1.-THE sky was stormy and overcast
that night. and inside the building it
was perfectly dark. so dark that liter
ally couldn't see my hand before my
face. Nevertheless l reached the proof
room without any mishap and had
just opened the door of the adjoining
inclosure to get the matches when the
thought of the two suicides flashed
through my brain and sent an icy shiv-
er down my spine. For moment l
had an impulse to back out and beat a
retreat, and, while l put that aside,
won't deny that l was considerably
unnerved. The loneliness of the place,
the pitch darkness, the whispering
noises one can always hear in a big
empty building at night and the men,
DRY Of that CHASTITY story Of self MUIR
der, all made my heart beat like
drum, and it required every particle Of
resolution possessed to enable me to
take a step forward.
81 moved slowly and cautiously, with
my right arm extended to ward off
obstacles. and had advanced perhaps q