The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1918-07-11
"An 'adiustable lunatlc'?"

may know | don't make business of
insanity, or l wouldn't be running at
large here in the streets of the city,"
1t was on the morning of st. Pat
rick's Day. | had been drifting aim
lessly around the city for hours, tossed
about by the restless tide of humanity
that ebbed and flowed in true sea fash
ion at the Washington and Illinois
street crossing. The few friends |
had been fortunate enough to fall in
with prior to the parade l had been
unfortunate enough to lose in the fur
ry and excitement attending that
event; and, brought to sudden anch-
orage at the Bates house landing
found myself at the mercy of bound
less throng that held not one familiar
face. 1t was a literal jam at that
Juncture, and anxious and impatient
as l was to break away, l was forced
into bondage which, though not ex-
actly agreeable, was at least the source
of an experience that will linger in my
memory fresh and clear when every
other feature of the day shall have
faded.
l had been crowded into a position
on a step of the railway that gave me
a lean upon the balustrade and placed
me head and shoulders above the
crowd; and although l comprehended
the helplessness of my position, was,
In a manner, thankful for the oppOr-
tunity it afforded me to study the I'M
suspectlng subjects just below. AS my
hungry eyes went foraging about from
face to face they fell upon the fea-
lures of an individual so singularly
distracted in appearance and so appa-
rently oblivious to his surroundings,
that l mentally congratulated him up
on his enviable disposition.
He was a slender man, of thirty
years, perhaps; not tall, but something
over medium height; he had dark hair
and eyes, with a complexion much too
fair to correspond; was not richly
dressed, but neatly, and in good taste.
Instinctively l wondered who and
what he was; and my speculative
fancy went to work and made a lawyer
of him-then Il minister-an artist-a
muslcian-an actor-and a dancing
master. Suddenly l found my stare
returned with equal fervOr, and tried
to look away, but something held me.
He was ebowing his way to where
stood, and smiling as he came.
81 don't know you" he said when, af-
ter an almost superhuman effort, hehad
gained my side, to the ,i&cnmfiture of
a brace of NANCY little 6uutbIaCkS that
occupied the step below. 81 don't
know you personally, but you look
bored. I'm troubled with the same
disease and want company-as the
poet of the Sierras walls, Low all
alone a man may be in crowds ?"
Something in the utterance made me
offer him my hand.
He grasped it warmly. ITS curl
ous," he said, "how friends are made
and where true fellowship be@luS. Now
we've known each other all our lives
and never met before. What dye
sayT
| smiled approval at the odd asser-
ton.
"But tell me-" he continued, what
conclusion you have arrived at in your
study of me; come, now, be frank
what do you make of me?
Although l found myself considera-
bly, startled, l feigned composurc and
acknowledged that | had been specn-
lating as to who and what he was,
but found myself unable to define
special character.
Il thought So" he said mo one
ever reads by characterize one ever
will. Why, I've had phrenoiogiSts
cropping around among my bumps by
the hour to no purpose, and physiogno-
mists driving themselves cross-eyed;
but they never found 1t, and they never
will. The very things of which l am
capable they invariably place beyond
my capacity; and, with like sageness,
the very things l can't do they declare
me to be master hand at. But l like
to worry them; it's fun for me- Why,
old Fowler himself, here the other
night, thumbed my head as mellow as
May apple, and never came Withh
a mile of it! Some characters are
readable enough, I'm willing to admit.
Your face, for instance is pulletlh
board to me, but you can't read mihe'