Pullman herald. [volume] (Pullman, W.T. [Wash.]) 1888-1989, 1905-04-08
CHAPTER XI.--tContinued.l

was, as | was so anxious for any sugges-
ton that might help me-
We'll, there's no harm in telling YOU,
at all events. You saw that Mr.. Mont
gomery. Well, you see. although he's
much broken down. he's wonderful
clever man, with heaps of learning,
knows everything, and was once, they
say, a rich gentleman. Well, now | was
thinking chat if you could make up your
mind to tell him a certain portion of
your history, he would be the very man
to advise you and help you"
No, / did not like the thought OF talk
Ing Mr.. Montgomery into my confidence.
could not tell why, but l was not
agreeably impressed with him. Another
of my strange instincts.
well. perhaps you're right Master
Sias for he's strange man. | can't
make him out at all He's the quietest
man that ever breathed when sober; but
he drinks hard, and then he mutters
TO himself, and tells stories about him
self that makes your flesh creep. That
young man, Fitzwaton, Is regularly
frightened at him when he's got one of
them fits on him. He's come down here
after they've gone to bed shaking with
fright, saying that he could not stop in
the room with him"
No; | was determined I would put no
confidence in Mr.. Montgomery. Martha
now pressed upon me the necessity of
making some change in my attire.
She took me to a secondhand clothes
shop, where, for a few dollars and my
old coat to boot, | procured one like
what civilized people wore" as Martha
phrased it. | bought hat and necktie
at the same place Then she took me to
a BARRIERS.
When | looked in the glass l found
myself completely metamorphosed
could scarcely recognize my own face
and figure. The kind-hearted girl was in
raptures.
There! l don't believe old Porter
himself would know YOU" she cried
While my money lasted | insisted upon
paying so much for my board. Day by
day my money dwindled down, until
had not penny left. Martha tried to
cheer me with the assurance that some
thing would turn up" soon and that
when things came to the worst they
were sure to mend, and such like bits
of homely wisdom; but | was almost
hopeless.
At one time | thought of writing to
Mr.. Jonathan Rodwell to ask him if he
could assist me in any way; he had told
me TO do so if all else failed; but then,
he had made an express stipulation that
l was to tell him everything. How little
did | know myself And even of that
little there was much that | dared not
reveal. Besides which, the nearneSs Of
his neighbOrhood to Bury St Edmund's
would make any confidence dangerous
for what was more probable than that
he would apply to the Rev. Mr.. Porter
for verification of my statements, and
thus give that co;demptible man a clue
to my recapture?
Day after day | walked through the
streets seeking employment. | applied
for a clerlship, for the situation of light
porter, for that Of messenger, or even
errand boy; but no person would en-
gage me without reference even in the
humblest capacity. At times, | almost
tainted with heat and lack of food |
felt such a poor, wretched waif among
all that busy life, that eager crowd, ev-
cry one seemed to have a purpose, work,
except myself; seemed only fit to creep
into corner and die--a mere useless
incubus upon the world. | have stood
upon the bridges, as many poor wretches
have done before me, and will continue
to do while this stony-hearted city ex-
lists, aud looked down upon the turbid
stream that flows beneath; while voice
whispered in my heart, There you may
find peace! Why do you hesitate? You
have neither father, mother. nor friend
to weep for you. Death will give rest
to you, and do no wrong to any living
being"
Thus did the tempter tempt me, and
only by prayer could | subdue the temp
tation. At length l avoided the neigh
borhood of the river, which began to ex-
ert such an irresistible fascination over
me-a fascination that felt must over
power me at last, if did not fly from it.
l now took to wandering about the
parks. 1t was there that an incident
occurred to me that changed the whole
current Of my thoughts and actions.
CHAPTER XII.
II was about q o'clock on n fine hrigbt