The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1913-11-29

Ing memorandum pinned carefully fn- side his waistcoat:
 San Francisco, Jan. "A, 1904.
 Messrs. Snood & Hargreaves hereby ac- knowledge the receipt of a solitaire ruby ring, of an antique, oriental setting, from It's owner, Captain Matthew Broughton, who, in consideration of thousand S$l,oO0 dollars advanced to him today by Messrs. s. & H. security of said ring, and, receipt by Captain Broughton hereby acknowledged, agrees to pay s. & H. per cent interest SeIntanHually said loan.
 GEORGE H. SNOOD,
 For Snood & Hargreaves.
 MATTHEW BROUGHTON.
 Matt returned to the windy street in far better spirits than he had left it. He had $1 GOO in his pockets; $4, 4,5OO more to draw On if need be; and best of all he could now "go home" It was strange instinct that called hfnn back to Manaswan, in the east. for there was not single tie that bound him to the place unless it were his parents graves But after years of wandering, Of contented exile, of acquiescence in the life he had made for himself, something within him had at last re- volted- Homesick, heartsick, weary of palms and reefs and naked savages, Manaswan appeared to him as the so- lution of this subtle malady of the soul. At Manaswan a miracle would happen, and he would be happy. The first use he made of his money was to buy his ticket.
 He gave the clergyman $500 to as- sure the safe return of the natives to their various islands; and that after noon the honest, devoted fellows, in charge of nine-year-old Master Thomp- son, accompanied him across the bay
 
 Standing there in a line of nine, mar shaled by that little white boy, they presented a singular spectacle on the platform, what with the earrings in their ears, two with tattooed faces, and all weeping copiousIy. Nor was the effect diminished by their singing a reSounding hymn, and then listening, with bowed heads, to the prayer Ta- nielu, the Tongan, offered up amid the jostle of trunks and passengers. Matt's own eyes were dim as the train moved away, and there was very real lump in his throat. Why was he going to Manaswan while everything he valued lay behind him? Why was he leaving tried and true friends for strangers9 An island fairyland for a prim little Connecticut town? Yet his resolution did not waver, and he was inspirited by the thought that in five days he would be 'shome."
 Matt was less dis1llusioned by his birthplace than might have been expect ed. The snowy landscape, the sluggish river, with its frozen shallows, the icic1ed and silent pines, the delight of hearing sleigh bells and wa atching the bright animation of scenes so long unfa- miliar-an were satisfying to the crav- h4, side, however, Manaswan was disap- pointing. No one seemed to care par ticularly whether he had come back or not The most cordial greeting he re- ceived came from an old gentleman who mistook him for some one else. In fact, Matt remembered ManasWan a great deal better than Manaswan re- membered him, and when he wrote to Washington and learned that both his uncle and aunt had long been dead he felt lonelier than ever.
 Matt took up his quarters in Mrs. Sattane's boarding house on Jefferson avenue and fell into an aimless, drift ing sort of life, in which the dinner bell was the most important part of the day. He took long hamps, assid- uously read the daily paper, interested himself in the other boarders and vaguely turned over schemes for his future With $4,5O0 he could surely make some kind of start somewhere. But what precise form of start and what t'somewhereP'
 Meanwhile he smoked his pipe and made friends with the other boarders. The principal of these was Hunter Hoyt, a genial, fat old scamp of fifty, never altogether. sober, though vary fT7oIU 7x7Ix in had been a sensational journalist of some celebrity in the newspaper world of New York and San Francisco. Drink had been his ruin, and he was now doing reporter work for the local ManasWan paper, the Banner. Shab- by, jolly and always with flower in his buttonhole and pleasant Gf often inarticulate) word for everybody, Hoyt was one of those irresistible nuisances who are popular when better men are not. He never paid Mrs. Sattane more than half his bill; his engagement with the Banner was almost in the nature of aims to fallen greatness; the liquor dealers allowed him to fine them an incalculable mum Der of bottles of whis- ky. Even the flower he was so par ticular about was never paid for, ex- cept by an amiabIe condescension that 01Shor IoHy HFenOo peEIOEce dccepteu in lieu of cash. There was everywhere a contemptuous affection for the old scaIIawag, whose courtly ways and husky compliments made him an es- pecial favorite of the women.
 Hunter Hoyt took an instant fancy to Matt and in many ways, some of them pathetic enough, sought to win his regard. In spite of his decadence there were often times when Hoyt could be both clever and entertaining. When with the right level of whisky in his sodden old carcass he could re- gain his former powers and aSton1sh one with his mocking, humorous, bril- liant flow of talk It was then that contempt changed to admiration, and