Pullman herald. [volume] (Pullman, W.T. [Wash.]) 1888-1989, 1903-04-04


aoss or in leisure, is methodical and
.aobanring. and when things that di-
~ and give pleasure to others have
saoome burden-then let him beware
= bis own mind, for he knows not
,rbat trick it may be making ready to
play upon him.
r. ,s with souls as with animals
.torvation and i'll treatment will rem
aor even the most gentle of them un-
.oonaqeable. eccentric and dangerous.
am moved to set down these re-
actions by the peculiar fate that re-
oontlv overlook Andrew Dawley-a
nan whom | had known for ten years
~ more with some degree of intimacy,
Init whom | hesitate to describe as
friond of mine for the reason that |
have once or twice heard him say
cohlly and without bitterness-that he
had no friends.
There were twenty years between
our ages, an interval that would be
1kely to forbid close relations between
two men who were without common
tastes and interests. Propinquity gave
No acquaintance, for | occupied at that
time the room next but one to his, on
the fourth floor, in the east wing of
the Hotel MacMahon; but it was an ac-
auaintance that was as slow Of growth
and almost as frigid as glacier.
The first year, | think, we merely
nodded when we met in the hall Dur
ing the second and third years we ex-
changed an occasional word. About
that time, | remember, he captured
sneak thief on the stairway, over
came his fierce resistance, and held
him until the police came, and l, hear
ing of it, went to his room to talk it
over.
Then l left the hotel for a matter o.
five or six years, and on my return
found Dawley the only one l knew in
the place-still occupying the same
room, and living the same unvarying
life. And now. at rare intervals, we
spent an evening together, usually on
his invitation and in his room. He
seemed to be i'll at ease elsewhere.
Uptothe time that he explained to me
his peculiar theory on the subject of
fear, l had regarded him as dull and
commonplace character. Conversation
with him was difficult, by reason of
my apparent inability to discover a
topic in which he was genuinely inter
ested. There were interminable
pauses, during which he drew slowly
and regularly at his pipe, and stared
into the fire.
Our discussion on the subject of fear
began with my commenting on the
fact that a light was burning in his
room the night before at one o'clock,
which had noticed, coming in at that
hour, after dance.
i keep light in my room all night"
said he; Il hate the dark"
Now, this had not been his custom
when l was a neighbor of his some
years before. and l commented upon
the change.
Il suppose it Is an evidence of the
weight of years." said he; "but / am
troubled of late with peculiar fancies
and dreams. Sitting alone here in the
evening, things somehow get on my
nerves, and the thought of suddenly
waking out of sound sleep to find
myself shut in by blackness Is quite
lntolerable to me-"
Now this sentiment was so utterly
at variance with my conception Of An
drew Dawley-a cold, practical man of
business and of the world, as l knew
nim-that instead of dropping the sub
lect, as | might have done with a
more sensitive man, pursued it some
WHAT farther.
AS child" l remarked, II had
great terror of the dark; but 1t ceased
entlrely when / was old enough to
reason with myself"
What was the course of your rea-
son1ngT' he asked.
Wen, l had become convinced that
supernatural beings did not exist-such
rs ghosts and COLLINS and gnomes-
anu, on the other hand, l knew that
'n well-protected house there was
practically no danger from burglars or
"iid animals. So, having completely
assured myself that there was nothing
~ me dark, any more than there was
~ the light, l ceased to be afraid of
it,
GOOD logic" said Dawley. with
smile. Il remember working out the
same conclusion when l was about
we've years old. And it has held with
ue ever since, until recently discoy-
ered flaw in the reasoning. Oh, 1t
soesn apply to anyone else" he added
hastily, "as [ undertook To sneak aIt