Democratic Sentinel, Volume 16, Number 8, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 11 March 1892 — A GOLDEN ALLY.. [ARTICLE]

A GOLDEN ALLY..

Mr.. Samuel Slickens walked down the main street of Aberdeen one morning with downcast mien; Perhaps he was -studying the probable durability of his shoes, for his mind was occupied with ways and means. ltis said that the stomach influences 'the brain. If so, Ijjtle wonder was there in his case that his thoughts were serious. He had had no breakfust; his regimen the.day before had comprised a few greasy potato chips. “There ought to be some one who would go at least a soup ticket on me,” he murmured; but even as he did, a long line of forbidding faces answered, “No one.’’ And yet there were .few young men on •the street of finer appearance than Samuel Slickens, few .indeed of a more harmless and amiable disposition. He was one of those unfortunates of whom his friends say, with a shrug, “He jg his own worst enemy,” and find this a precedent for their own treatment of him. It had not been always thus, however. When he first came to Aberdeen, after graduating from the lawTgchool, he was regarded as the possessor of uii'bouudod possibilities. Up was an orphan. He had inherited a snug fortune, which fame had made snugger; he had a bright eye, a winsome -smile, an .engaging manner. Who was there -so apt of anecdote, so quick at repartee, so tuneful of voice, as he? To know Sam Slickens was a .distinction, to visit at his rooms an event. One, two, three, four, the yearß had glided away, and at the beginning of each Sam had regrets ully said. “I wish I were as well off as I was twelve months ago,” and then had thought no more about it. But Forlunatus without his purse is Fortunatus no longer, so now tods friends agreed that it was a wonder that he had kept going so loDg. Perhaps it was, but no such foreboding had troubled them over his dinners and cigars. This walk down strpet on this particular morning was chiefly induced by habit, for his extensive law offices were now confined to his hat; his elegant apartments for a week and more had been within one one of the city’s parks. It was a lonely walk, too, interrupted by no hearty greeting or vigorous slap upon the back. For some reasons his friends preferred the other side of the street, and their gaze wub concentrated upon the architectural beauties of the buildings that lined it “I swear!” resolved Sam, “I’ll call upon Campbell. He’s a crank, so he’s sure to differ from all the others.” Now, Lionel Campbell was an unpleasant enigma to the average citizen, who could not understand exclusiveness towards his affable self. His wealth re- * quired millions to calculate, and engross his entire attention. Since he minded his business, and barely vouchsafed a surly nod to the gilded youth whom he might meet, he was popularly voted “the meanest man.” His father had left his son the gross results of a lifetime of thrift and energy, less the pittance which bare existence had cost him. People said that in Lionel his subtlety and avarice were intensified. In reality they knew little about him, for he had led the life of a recluse, and returned with interest the dislike which he engendered. Sam entered the vast general office, filled with clerks busied with the affairs of the Campbell estate, and diffidently gave his name to an usher. "I'll take it in,” this functionary said, dubiously, “but it’s no u*e I .reckon. They vondar be waltibg to see him; ” and be designated with his finger a portly group, among whom Sam recognized a railway magnet, an Insurance president,

a promoter of national reputation, and thepaßtor of the United Presbyterian Church; but to hie surprise Mr. Camje. bell returned word that he would see Mr. Slickens immediately. As Sam passed this group they all bowed respectfully, an amenity which they had neglected upon his entrance. When he was enclosed within the handsome private office Campbell grasped him cordially by the hand. “Hallo, Sam! ”he cried. “Glad to see you. This is something like old times at Harvard! Why have you kept away so long?” Now Sam did not care to give his reason—which had been a careless acquiescence with the popular judgment —so he feebly said that ne didn’t know. “Well, I qua guess,” replied Campbell. ■‘■‘You always float with the tide. You’ve gotten among the breakers, too, I hear, and no life-boat has put out for you.” “No,” said Sam, with a faint smile. “My friends are all too busy. One has married a wife, another has purchased a yoke of -oxen, don’t you know? ” “Ob, yes, I know. I could have weighed them all for you long ago in a two-penny balance. Now, I needn’t ask you what you wamt. You are hard up. How much, old fellow, how much? “l.am hungry.” “Now, look here, Sam. This sort of thing -won’t do.\ You did me many a favor at Ynrvard with your aptitude for 'Greek and Calculus, though you've forgotten all about it by this tine, I suppose; but I don’t forget. I would give you half my income willingly, but it wouldn't benefit you, you are sodeucedly impraticable; besides, you don’t want to be u dependent, do you ? ” “Indeed, I don’t. I tell you I’m hungry.” “You want to rehabilitate yourself, now.don’t you? You wantto be respected in this' blessed burgh, and have your fellow-citizens speak of you as our promising young townsman?” “1 want something to eat worst of all; but of course 1 do.”

“Well, look here. I'm a philosopher, and I have my theories of life. I’d like to exploit one, if you’ve uo objection. Follow my advice and I’ll make an orthodox model of you. Here’s five hundred dollars. 1 lend this to you for three mouths, ou interest, mind. Go and appease that yearning stomach. Buy new clothes and shoes first of all, hire your old apartments and offices, then come to me to-morrow morning. By this time my theory will bo formulated and ready for practice. Good-day.” Main rushed from top to bottom of a neighboring restaurant’s bill-of-fare. The next morning he called upon the young millionaire, and was ushered at once into his presence. “Just look over this package,” said Campbell, carelessly. Sain gingerly fingered the crisp contents. “Fifty one-thousand-dollar bills!” he gasped. “I thought so. That’s right. Now I’ll explain what you aro to do. Have you a bank account?” “I had one.” “Well, go to the bank and deposit these bills to your credit. Do it in the most .matter-of-fact way. Make no explanations, answer no impertinent questions. Let it stay there. Live on the five hundred dollars, stick conscientiously to your office, and six months will settle the business, I wager.” “But ” began Sam. “There is no but. I don’t give you one cent of it; I expect it back when I ask for it. You are trustworthy, aren’t you? Why, of course. Now do as Isay.” And Sam, nervously buttoning his coat over the precious bundle, hastened away as if each shadow were a lurking robber.

He went straightway to the Lockit Bank. Jts he entered, the bookkeeper called sharply to him: “Mr. Slickens, your account is overdrawn sixty-nine cents. The president wished me to direct your particular attention to it. ” “Very well,” replied Sam. “I’m just going to make a deposit.” The clerk rolled his tongue in his cheek and winked toward his admiring associates. Sam made out his deposit-slip with the deliberation of a oapita.ist, and then handed the book and the money to the teller. “Well, I’ll be blanked!” muttered the sarprised official as he wet his fingers thrice in his count. “Did you speak?” questioned Sam, severely. “0h,.n0, sir; not at all.” “4re you quite sure?” “1 beg pardon, sir, but I just rubbed my favorite corn; it's enough to make a cherub swear. Will you draw against .this to-day, sir?” “Oh, no; it’s not necessary.” “\4ery good, sir. Good morning, sir. But, beg pardon, by the way, wouldn’t you like to step behind and see our new time-lock? It’s really wonderful.” “Not now, young man, I’m busy,” said Sam, grandly, as he walked toward the door. On the porch he met Mr. Cashleigh, the bank president, entering. That digmitary looked upon him with an unfriendly eye. “Morning,” he grunted in reply to Sam's polite salutation. “Old Bricks and Mortar will never weaken,” mused Sam, as he sauntered toward the office. “Poor Agnes! Poor me! There is no hope in that quarter.” NvT/ the Agnes to whom he referred was the only daughter of Mr. Cashleigh. He had formed her acquaintance three years before through these somewhat unusual circumstances. It was one blustering day that Sam had strutted up Main street with all the importance that weighty legal business demands. He was, fn fact, going to get shaved, but why advertise it? He gazed upon houses and wayfarers, and scorned to see the homes and the persons of future clients. But a little distance ahead of him there tripped a dainty figure that soon con- s centrated wandering eyes and thoughts. Surely, if outlines void the truth, this young girl embodied a poet’s dream of grace. She was richly clad in aark-gray vesture, and she sheltered herself from the eager sunrays with a large, heavilyfringed parasol. Anticipations assured Sam that her face was lovely; he hastened his steps to realize them. Down the street there was approaching a conveyance know to its owner and his admiring friends as “a right slick I* was drawn by a higb-step-ping, rat-tailed nog. Underneath the rear axle ambled a bandy-legged bulldog. The driver sat upon his lofty seat in all the glory of a Sunday suit and the most precious heirloom of his race, a fuzzy “beaver," which the event of coming to “teowu” had caused him to don. He was a young man, of ungainly figure and mammoth hands, upon whose venation face self-consciousnese and its resulting irritability could plainly be read. Perhaps he thought that he would make an impression; for as he drew near he reined his Pegasus into a walk. Alee!

the impression was made, but not by him. A gust of wind swept wound the corner. It whirled the parasol from the young Indy’s grasp; it sent it hurtling through the air like a missile from a catapult. It struck the venerable hat with its lance-like point; it spitted it, and dashed it prone in the dust. “Geewhitnker!” snarled the driver ns be leaped from his perch to rescue this precious memento of grandfather. “I wudn’t hev hed thot happen for a gud deal.” He recovered possession; but he recovered a wreck, rent and ruined, unfit for future descendants. He turned toward the helpless maiden in a rage. “Gol darn ye!” he shouted. “Ye did thet a purpose. I’ll hev the law on ye. You jest cum along with me to the ’squire.” “Don’t lay a finger on that lady,” said Sam, coming up at this critical moment. “Who’s to pervent, tbet’s what I wanter know? D’ye think I’m agoin’ to hev my valluble property spiled by any sech” Whang! Sam struck with such effect that the speaker stumbled baok. over his dog and rolled with him iu a disorderly mass through the muok. “Come!” cried Sam. He half lifted the bewildered young lady in * the “slick buggy,” ho whipped up the rat-tailed nag. Away they sped down the street. In their hasty passage to her home he learned that her name wus Agnes Cashleigh; he also learned that .she had, for him, the most beautiful face, the most charming manner in the world. The adventure caused a certain sensation. The driver of the buggy threatened arrest. He began five distinct suits for damages—to his hat, his horse, his buggy i his dog, and himself! The first three were against Mr. Cashleigh, the others against Sam. But they served no other purpose than to awaken a general laugh and to deepen this acquaintance into intimacy. They loved, the more readily, perhaps, since circumstances were so forbidding. For the stouter Sam’s affections grew, the Blimmer grew his purse. But they hoped; that is to say, they unwittingly courted disappointment. When Father Cashleigh perceived the situation he did what irate parents seem to consider a mighty achievement, though babies ucquire it; he put his foot down. He informed Sam that his absence would be deemed his most delectable quality. He sent his daughter incontinently to boarding-school. So no wonder it was that Sam murmured ■‘■‘Poor Agnes! Poor me! ” He now entered his office and strove to impart an air es business to it. He spread his few books with open pages upon the desk; h« bound together folds of blank paper with pink tape, and indorsed them with titles of supposititious cases; he thrust a quill over his loft ear and soaked his right forefinger iu the ink.

While he was thus laudably engaged the door opened and the bank messenger came in; he who erstwhile would present an impossible draft fb him with such haughty mien- He doffed his hat, he bowed low. “From President Cashleigh,” he said, proffering a bulky package. He withdraw amid the throes ot a salaam. Sum examined the bundle. It contained several legal documents and a note, with an inclosure, —ah, unusual inclosure! The missive read as follows: “Mt Dear Sir: — l beg t > send herewith papeisin the -uit -of the Shakem Hallway Company against the Lockit Bank, which I desiie you to defend. I enclose cheque for $260 leiainiog lee. Trusting that your engagements may yield us your va u i ble services, Very rtspectfully yours, Caleb Cashleigh. “P B.—Drop around to the house, my boy, some d v this week in a friendly way. Agnes returns to-morrow. C. C.” Sam stayed within his office until late that night, working upon the case until the widespread books, the' thoughtful quill, the inked fingers were an unconscious reality. When he returned to his rooms the floor seemed covered with drifted snow; it was bestrewn with visiting cards. All his old friends had called. “So sorry,old fellow,to miss you.” “Be at the club to-morrow night.” “ Sister is anxious to see you.” “ Can you lend me a twenty until Saturday? ” were a few of the indorsements, Sam carefully tore them into shreds. The succeeding weeks always seemed hereafter to Sam like the pleasant stages of a dream of good fortune. Social and professional demands were constantly made upon him. The former, with a single exception, he ignored; the latter he assiduously accepted. He worked as he had never worked before, and perhaps his success was due more to his industry than to Campbell’s talisman; but that us least gave him the opportunity; he was wise enough to improve it. The most extravagant stories were widespread about him. He was the sole heir of a millionaire uncle recently deceased in Englund. He had drawn the principal prize in a lottery. He owned a gold mine in Mexico. He had written a novel. Alas! has vain imagining no bounds? But ho preserved a discreet silence and wooed Themis untiringly. Nor were all his pains lavished upon that frigid virgin. He called upon the Cashleighs, yes, again and again, and they received him ns if he were a longlost son returning in honor. As for pretty Agnes, delight overwhelmed surprise. He whom she so fondly loved had come back to her. She was content. How it had happened she cared not a whit; for of course be could do everything. His practice speedily increased from nothingness into mammoth proportions. He was especially consulted regarding investments, and in this way found fertile fields for the results of his industry. The fifty tbousmid dollars still remained on deposit; but this no longer was a conspicuous sum, for it had plenty of company. He called upon his friend Campbell, and explained the pleasant situation to him. “ Return ten thousand dollars a month to me,” he directed. At the expiration of six months Sam had repaid the full amount,and still had at the bank a balance to his credit that required more than four figures to express it. He was counsel for nearly all tha-business corporations of Aberdeen. His tin box was filled with crisp shares and debentures. His engagement with Agnes had been announced; their marriage was the anticipation of society. Filled with gratitude and delight, he sought the on* whose faith and shrewdness had saved him, and begged him to act as his best man. “Oh, yes,” replied Campbell, “I’ll be there; it will i muso me. There are nice people in'Aberdeen, aren’t there? They will dance as readily at your bridal as they would have jumped UDon your grave.”—[Frank Leslie’s.