The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1902-12-20
A MAeNANlMous SUICIDE.

| ana nothing deeply, and whose very lack
Of desire and whose literal sense Of all
realities is sufficient to prevent them from
| sinking into the deepest state of selfish
ness. She was a dutiful wife, who cared
| no more for her husband than If he had
been q mere business partner TO whom she
| felt obligated TO prOffer her best services.
| Their only child. boy OF 1. was, from her
point of view, one OF the penalties of
Partnership that had awaited nothing ben
ehcial. Nixon, the husband and father,
| was an invalid. He had been a Brooklyn
motorman. but had contracted pneumo-
MIA, and wasted a year of time and most
OF his small savings trying TO get well.
His life was insured for $4,000 and,
| though he advised her to quit paying the
! quarterly premiums she insisted on keep
| ing them up. Evidently she was wiser
than he. for. when the time came that he
could no longer pay, she had accumu-
lated enough from her earnings as
I seamstress TO sustain the policy. Their
/ life in an East Side fiat was squalid and
/ unhappy enough to have driven less af-
/ fectionate man to drink or desertion. but
/ Nixon was a silent, patient sanguine fell
/ low, fully alive TO the utter failure OF his
/ life but clingfng resolutely to the boy
( whom ne loved with an almost femi
nine tenderness.
1t wa< chilly November evening that
! Charley, the child. catching the odor of
/ frying meat from an adjoining fat. set
up a wall for sausage. Nixon hadn't
a cent, and knew that it was useless to
/ plead with his wife She was forever
raspiug about his spelling the boy. and
Nixon, who hated scenes, quietly left the
table, patting the chllds curls as he went
{ past, and said: Never mind, Charliei
l II see If can't get you sausage" A
few minutes after he left the room Con
Doyle. Nixon's chum, came in with the
sausage, telling his wife that her hus-
band had stopped at the corner to chat
with one of the pier foremen who was
hiring help. That was the last heard of
him that night and for most of the next
day. Then a policeman from Mulberry
street called to notify Mrs. Nixon that her
husband was supposed TO have drowned
himself in the East river; that garments
supposed 10 be his nd note had been
found on pier No. Is, and that she was to
call at the station to identify the cloth
ing. She went across to Doyie's board
ing house, left Charley there with the
: housekeeper, and set forth with her nus
lands friend to examine the evidence of
suicide
-Whatd make him take off his clothes
cold night like that was, is what 1
can't understand" whispered Doyle to the
widow who, pale but fearless, was in
sFectinS the shabby coat
Here's the note he wrote" explained
the sergeant, passing out a scrap of
butchers wrapping paper on which was
written; You can sell the clothes. Har-
ret ltH buy some sausage for Charley
at Christmas. When you get the insur-
ance pay Doyle four dollars I borrowed
of him
But. as it turned out. there was quite a
squabble with the insurance people. The
police, as well as the widow and DOYLE
We're sure that Nixon had drowned him
self, and, as a matter of fact, the insur-
ance company had no doubt either. but
they stuck out on a techncaIity and the
widow paid another assessment before
the body was found down toward the Bat
terry, about four months after the drown
/ ing. Ia the meantime both Doyle and
Mrs. Nixon had made a hundred trips to
a score of morgues, both bent upon es-
tabiishinging the identity of the lost hus-
ban. If it hadn't been for the fact that
nearly every corpse picked up was clad
IN outer garments of some sort, there
might have been some doubt about it.
but it was not till March that Mrs. Nixon
and Doyle saw the remains that CORE
sponded in every way with the probable
condition of poor Nixon after four
onths in the icy waters of the East
river
OF course the flesh was blackened and
the features terribly disfigured from con-
tact with the ice and from Earring against
piers and shipping, but there were no gar
ments except an undershirt and drawers
ana about the neck was the old pair Of
scapulars that Nixon had always worn
Doyle was sure it was his old partner.
and the widow SWOre to the clothing and
the scapulars.
She made quite a funeral of it. and
Charley was there in a pretty little suit
OF black The neighbors made much over
the widow and her son, for they all knew
that the family was Ito come INFO
money" and $4,000 was a great fortune in
that poor neighborhood. The child who
understood nothing of all the dreary pam
oply, was delighted. Doyle, who was one
of the pall-bearers, did not grieve but
looked absently out OF the window. The
woman hard-eyed but fascinated with the
thought that she was free of poverty.
absolved of drudgery and her own mis-
tress at last, looked with vacant eyes and
absent speculation through the dark
folds of her heavy veil. It was after
they had come home to the empty fat
and Doyle was petting little Charlie that
the woman said:
Well. it's all over. Mr.. Doyle. We
gave him a nice funeral"
NO better than he deserved. He was
good man. Mrs. Nixon" said the con-
ouctor. He provided for you and Charlie
Pretty good
oh, yes" she answered. Frightening.
VIII you go down TO the office with me
in the morning? III have to be paying the
bills and"
III go with YOU" grunted Doyle. an
ugly look in his eyes as he rose to go.
But downstairs. as he stumbled through
the dark hallway. he felt a hand on his
arm and voice in his ear which said:
Hist. Con, it's me-NixOnir
w hat the - are you doing here2'
Kissed Doyle. not whit frightened Il
thought YOU were safe in Denver2"
was, but-y0u haven't collected the
insurance, have you2" asked Nixon
Mo- Thank Cod Twould have landed
Us al in the penitentiary'"
We buried you today. you know.
cautioned Doyle 'Taint too late.
NiNey. She's sure you're dead and
vel. maybe I oughtn't say it. but
think SHE'S glad OF it. She means to get
the money in the morning"
Go up and break the news to her
Cen, I can t wait. -
Cant wait for what2"
For the boy. Con Twas him brought
ne hack. Z want to see him
And when Nixon came into his own
again and had Rugged his delighted child
the woman only l0lzed at him and said.
Il suppose you think it was smart
Nixon. 81 you've been 20 Denver. and
you're feeling better. Htghty-tighty. who's
going 10 pay Tor the funeral. Id ike
TO know
But DOYLE. who was sitting II The shad-
OF the light gazing fondly at his old
courade. said
Never miad about tn funeral. rna'an
BE ard NixeT D attend 20 that He can
set his car back. now. ma am. Don't
sou see he's strong as ever