The Tupelo journal., 1906-04-06
HIS QUEER TRICK
THAT TR|UMPHED
THE STORY OF A LONDON LIT
ERARY GENTLEMAN.

TIE STOhY OF "A AONOON AAA
ERARY GENTLEMAN.
RMYTAGE was what his friends
~ called eccentric, and his rela-
~ tives condemned as queer. Al
though he was a young author,
do not think he assumed this eccentric
ity as a lever for his reputation; 1t must
nave come to him naturally through an
hereditary kink in his constitution. For
his father had been a newspaper editor.
1t was only in a slight degree that
Armytage's eccentricity showed itself
in his writings. His leaders were as
ordinary as a stencil plate; his verses
might have passed muster on a Christ
mas card. But in his novels one could
see the faint; he always married his
hero and heroine in the last chapter, and
they lived happily eve afterwards. And
nowadays that is a fatal fault; it is only
after marriage that developments, and
those disagreeable, ensue at all.
But his queerness was principally no.
ticeable in his clothes, which were, to
say the least of it, absolutely disgrace
full. They always seemed too large and
full of creases, especially his boots; he
insisted on wearing a flannel shirt, and
abhorred a stiff collar; and the very
next day after his wedding he had
thrown his new silk hat into the dust
bin, and had positively refused to buy
another.
He was ne. mean at all; everything
his wife war'77. or only thought she
wanted, he aa, her at once. She was
a shining light 20 the neighborhood i'll
the matter of delightful robing; the very
latest word in Partisan chic. When she
passed down the street other m
would rush to the windows and gaze
through the curtains; and as soon as she
had turned the corner they would with
draw with a sigh and break their hearts
all the afternoon trying to copy her hat.
This elegance only made the contrast
of Armytage all the more distressing;
by her side he appeared dingy to the last
degree; as she herself ncesexclaimed
in a moment of choler he looked like a
perennial fifth of November. Armytage
was in no way disconnected; his cos
tune was part of his philosophy. He
passed off the matter thus: "My clothes
are baggy, granted; but they are at
least comfortable. l wear a flannel
shirt; it does not check the circulation
of my blood. and my neck is at ease.
My boots are roomy; l car walk ten
miles without feeling it, and 1 never
suffer from corns. l like a soft felt hat;
there are no red rim round my forehead,
nor signs of my hair falling off,"
1t was in vain that Mrs. Armytage pro-
tested. She told him he was a disgrace
to the honored profession of literature
hat he belonged to; he said he knew it
already. She averred that people all
laughed at him; he answered that he
was glad to be a cause of such innocent
enjoyment. She shrieked that she would
go home to her mother; he laughed that
he knew she would not. for she was far
too fond of him. In despair she burst
into tears, and sobbed that he did not
love her any more; he only took her in
his arms and kissed her tenderly.
So she was forced to resort to strategy;
and after many headachy afternoons Of
contemplation at last hit on a pian.
Every Friday Armytage went down to
Fleet street to take lunch with one of
his editors and bring away the guineas
due. His wife timed him, and one morn
ing followed him; lunched while Le
lunched, in another restaurant near:
waited till he was coming home and bad
got nearly as far as Somerset house.
Then she looked about for an iznc-
cent accomplice. in which matter For
tune-or was it Providence?-hplped
her considerably. For an esteemed
householder of footing had come that
morning to search the records of births;
he had brought his eldest son up for the
outing, which youth, a %precocious prig
of 20, was walking up and down outside,
where he had been about an hour, and
was likely to remain for another.
Mrs. Armytage addressed him. and
speedily got c%ognizance of these facts;
and continuing her talk in a motherly
way, at last grew into condolences.
WOu1u you ike W 10 lie d FAVOR !!
she said.
YES" stammered the other, "if it is
nothing wrong, you know"
"Of course not" with a smile. II
want you to help me in my work of char
ity. l see so much misery around me IN
the streets, and do my best to relieve
it. But when a lady is alone with these
poor rough men that she seeks to assist
it is sometimes embarrassing. You
must feel that, | am sure"
Certainly" answered the goose from
footing, with the air of much superior
knowledge.
Whereas a mar like you, you know,
could do these things without being no.
ticed."
"Of course" assented the man of the
world.
May | make you, then, my almoner?
See, here are some coppers; you must
distribute them among the poor per-
sons you think deserving"
Il will do so with pleasure; it is our
duty to relieve the sufferings of
Others"
What a good young nan you are!
Why, look! here comes a poor man to
commence on. How wretchedly he is