The county record. [volume] (Kingstree, S.C.) 1885-1975, 1920-03-25
His
Better Self
M
By RHODA BARRYMORE

There was a shamed and humiliated
EXPIRE ssion on the face of Myron Wor-
dell a he boarded a train and placed
a box-:ike package In the rack over
his seat. His own innate sense Of
self-respect was lashing him. In the
first place he was acting in defiance
of the law, in the next he was ac-
knowledging himself a weakling and
coward. and lastly, deliberately was
making his way back to servitude
that had wrecked his own life and
that Of loving, devoted wife.
Drink had been the bane of five
years Of married experience. inher-
tied or acquired, once he had given
way to the craving for stimulants he
had begun a career that called for the
sacrifice of position, home, respecta.
bility and friends. The downward
path had been sheer, the pit 1t led
to deep and engulfing. His wife had
clung to the last shred Of hope and
duty, but he had driven her away from
him. At length, picked up on the
street in rags, wretched, maudlin
wreck, Wordell had been removed to
hospital where he lay lowering be-
tween life and death for a month, and
was finally discharged to face the
world weak. homeless, friendless.
Tie enormity of his downfall now
presented itself In harsh, reproschful
censure. The one maddening thought
was Of the wife he had lost. For q
week he managed to pick up enough
dssultory work to keep body and soul
together. Winnie had entirely disap-
pearsd, and former neighbors gave no
elsw to her whereabouts.
"Why. everybody supposed you were
dead" he was ad&ised at one source
where he and Winnie had once lived,
"md Mrs. Wordell supposed so, too,
for she read your name In the paper
IN q big lodging house fire."
Wordell had been one Of the In
mates Of the place, his name had been
mistakenly included In the fatalities
and he had been too far down and out
to care to correct the error.
"She probably is glad that burden
her life no longer" he reflected bitter
ly. "Well, better so. What have / to
offer her but regret and a barren,
broken lifef'
But somehow new manhood had STIR
red within him with permanent So
briefly. He secured work and did 1t
we'll. At the end of two years be held
q lucrative position and restrained
from indulging the dormant appetite
within him. He had made several ef-
forts to find his lost wife, but they had
no result.
And now he was on the way to join
some familiar companion on fishing
junket. He was expected to contrib
ute something to the camp equip
ment-a box of cigars, some pOtted
meats, or fruit, or what he might
choose. At the final moment, wearied
from a strenuous week Of hard work,
enticed by solitude and congenial COM
panionship, Myron Wordell had taken
q grevious false step. In the box IN
the coach rack was a store of stimu-
lants, purchased surreptitiously, and
whetting his long slumbering appetite,
although more than once some better
impulse swayed him to toss the temp
tation through the window.
He was in smoking compartment
when his station was called out, and
fastening to the rack seized what he
supposed to be his box. 'Tve taken
somebody else's Belongings by nris-
take" he muttered when he opened
It at the camp, for Its interior show
Cd bound volume, some magazines,
q box of candy and some collars and
handkerchiefs. He contained himself
as he threw these upon a camp cot.
"Had to hurry" he explained false
ly to his companions. "Just managed
to pick up a little miscellaneous read
Ing mattsr," and the incident passed
casually, but the next day one Of his
comrades called on him.
II say, Wordell, look over this story.
II It isn't you to the fife. Whoever
wrote 1t knew you, or dreamed OF you,
or your precise counterpart"
Wordell took the volume and sought
q secluded spot. Through the ensutue
hours ne seemed to live his life ever