Catoctin clarion. [volume] (Mechanicstown, Md.) 1871-1940, 1907-10-31
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CHAPTER I.
"THE Cur"

~ III th0t NoA poScAo'J
n happen to an engaged cou-
-O pie, especially when they
@lI l@I are just about to carry on
that engagement to its le-
Ultimate end, is the acquisition, by gift
or by inheritance, by chance or luck
or windfall, of house. good house.
In a good situation. solidly furnished;
every young woman of judgment much
prefers solidity to aesthetics.
Imagine then, IL you can, the I'M
bounded satisfaction with which Kath-
arine received the intelligence that her
lovers uncle-his uncle Joseph-whom
she had never seen, for whose decease
she had not shed q single tear, and
who was angry with Tom for not fol-
lowing his own profession, had actually
bequeathed to him absolutely the
whole Of his estate, including, with all
kinds of real and personal property.
q beautiful great house, completely
furnished, in Russell Square, on the
east side, where they have long gar
dens, and where the sun shines full
upon the drawing rooms in the after
noon. Besides the house. there were
lands and freeholds, railway shares.
gas and water shares, trans, money In
funds, money on mortgage-why, there
was enough, 1t was certain, to make up
more than thousand pounds a year.
What happiness! More than thou
sand pounds year Of additional in
come to a couple who were going to
marry on about five hundred! And
big house solldly furnished in Russell
SQUARED! People turn up their aristo-
cratic noses at Russell Square. but
there are nowhere more comfortable
houses. and there is nowhere more
central situation. A truly wonderful
piece of good fortune! To be sure,
Uncle Joseph had only two nephews, and
therefore he might have been expected
to leave something to Tom. But then.
Uncle Joseph had never expressed any
Intention Of dying. And again, Tom
had offended him because he would
become journalist, and his uncle
could not understand how any young
man who respected himself could fol-
low a profession in which there was
no money to be made and no prizes to
be won except the editorship of a
paper. Now the other nephew, ON his
part, in order to please his uncle, had
become a solicitor, and was now in
practice. But then the world had
never learned that this other nephew,
who was never seen at his uncle's
house, by long-contlnued courses, hav-
ing a fine, bold nature, free from the
restraints Of prejudice, had estranged
his uncle far more than Tom. And
now Tom had all, and the Other-his
name was James Hanaper Rolfe-had
none. Tom had all! In thinking Of
this wonderful dispensation, Katharine
was fain to sigh, so happy she was.
and to say: poor, dear Uncle Joseph!
To think, Tom, that he has now gone to
a world where word Of gratitude will
never reach him! And yet what q
fine, clear insight into character Uncle
Joseph must have possessed to recog-
nize the splendid abilities and genius Of
his nephew-you, Tom. Poor, dear
Uncle Joseph!
what have done, Katharine"
asked Tom. that my uncle should
leave me all his money? He has an:
other nephew; he never seemed partic-
ularly fond Of me; he never forgave me
for refusing to be articled to him; I
only saw him two or three times a
year; and yet he gives 1t all to me.
and none to Jem at ALL"
tom" said Katharine. "your uncle
knew which Of his family would make
the best use Of the fortune. You are
going to be great writer, and now
you can work at your leisure, and give
the world your very best, without be-
ing forced to dissipate your powers in
drudgery and distasteful work."
And yet-and yet-there does seem q
suspicion of favoritism about such
wonderful stroke of luck.
Consider the position with more at
tention to detail.
Tom Addison was, as We have said,
seven-and-twenty, and at present a
journalist. As journalist he had not
yet risen to the lofty level of the leader
writer; but he was already known by
the editor to have considerable descrip-
tive power. With such start, and
by the aid of his own cleverness and
energy, Tom was justified in aiming at
the highest journalistic prizes.
And while he contemplated many
years of drudgery before these should
fall to him, behold! thousand pounds
a year-more-and big house. In
houses beauty ought always to include
bigness-there is no comfort where you
can not stretch your legs. A thousand
pounds year! Well, he could now do
az he pleased. No more going off to
do the EPSON crowd ON Derby day;
no more crowding on board the press
boat Tor the University race; no more
hanging round the Office for jobs; he
could make his literary life for himself
and bide his time. And above all, he
could marry as soon as he pleased, and
without anxiety. What an incompara-
BILE inheritance! No anxiety; Kath-
arine's future assured, whatever hap
pened to himself. And to marry at
once, when 1t had seemed as IL their
engagement might possibly drag on
for years. A long engagement is a
hateful thing. Give me one which is
brief and rapturous--so brief that when
It ends with the Wedding bells both are