Evening Republican, Volume 17, Number 181, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 31 July 1913 — HIS CLEVER SCHEME [ARTICLE]

HIS CLEVER SCHEME

John Moran Arose to Occasion, and Immediately Fell With Great Splash.

BY HERBSRT DROCER.

(Copyright, 1913, by the McClure Newi- " paper Syndicate.) Anything between the ridiculous and the sublime probably would have left John Moran with a very uncertain appreciation of the Fourth of July celebration. Neither the one nor the other, in his opinion, could have been very fruitful of results. But when the ridiculous followed close on the sublime, the two operated after a fashion peculiarly uncafculated and brought Susan Duvau to an instantaneous decision on a matter affecting John, wherein all the p's and q’s she had lingered over so long never became finally resolved in her mind to a syllogistic nicety. Of the two extremes, the sublime had been deliberately'planned; It was premeditated. The ridiculous wasn’t. • The former was the result of a clever scheme and weeks of hard work. The latter was the chance of a minute, unforeseen, unexpected, and, some might have said on the spot, unpropitiotfs. For several years John Moran had wooed Susan Duvau, but, so far, he seemed to himself no nearer the matrimonial goal than he had been at the beginning. All her people had been assisting him without apparent avail. He had pleaded with her; he had coaxed and cajoled and even assayed to coerce after a mild fashion, his threats reaching that superlative proportion where he promised to identify himgelf for life with the sublime order of bachelorhood. But, to all this, she merely cast down her eyes demurely and asked him to wait awhile. "John calculated that he had waited long enough. At first he had been patient, but now he was growing desperate. • A score and one-half years had come and gone around the life of Susan. As her thirty-first pirthday approached, John, who had schemed until his hair was beginning to fall out, decided on a bold stroke. He spent the afternoon with her that day, and, in the evening, they had dinner together downtown. _ That night he sat with her on the front porch, after the family had retired. Over them a dim light shining from the parlor window, cast a pale Iglow. John sat quietly, waiting for the silence he depended on for the furtherance of his plan. After awhile It came, and then, when the stillness had lockpd the night in its embrace, he began to hum, "Silver Threads Among the Gold.” When he had drew his chair closer to hers, reached ceased, tears stood in his eyes. He out for her hand again, and asked her to become his wife. But it was the same old prosaic answer.” "Wait awhile, John,” she insisted. --"Wait awhile. Do something grand. 6how me that you can rise to the occasion.” ! Rise to the occasion, he would. He resolved that firmly as he stood up forthwith and bade her good night. He resolved it all the way home. The next morning he still resolved it. But how?

A happy thought struck him. John had a penchant for happy thoughts. He would make a spech at a Fourth of July celebration, ft would be so grand and so eloquent, couched in such rich expressions and so laden with noble sentiment, that she could not help but feel the appeal. He would show her that he could “rise to the occasion!" John got out his old, school dictionary and brushed the dust from Its covers. Then he borrowed an Immense volume of masterpiece orations from a friend and read every speech lie could find that contained any patriotic reference or expression. For four weeks, he labored almost Incessantly, night and day, on his effusion and finally he had it completed. An obstacle that John had not reckoned on now loomed up. John was a member of the' program committee, and he doubted the propriety of having himself included among the list of speakers. But he remembered bls penchant, and called It Into play again, with good effect. The morning before the celebration he called around to see the chairman of the committee. “You see —ahem! —Mr. Grubbs," John began, “being one of the committee, I should regret to see any part of the program fall flat" “Just so,“ answered the chairman. "I feel the same way." “Well, as a matter of precaution, Mr. Grubbs, I think I shall prepare a few remarks myself today. Should any of the speakers be tardy, or fail to respond, you might call on me.” “Fine idea, John. I'H do it.” Then John took himself around to the residence of Squire Sloan. He knocked at the door and was admitted. “Ahem, squire,” began John, after an inquiry concerning his host’s health, "we are altering the program for tomorrow slightly." “Sor "Yes. You see, on account of your advanced years and the fact that yon have been ailing, we thought it might suit'you better to speak, say, at 11:30 than at 11 o'clock.” "I believe it would.” answered the old man. About 11 o'clock the next morning, Chairman Grubbs scanned the gathtaring in vain for a glimpse of Squire

Sloan. Than, ha rtood up and **- nounced: .i”. JV' "Though not appearing on the program, the Hon. John Moran has been requested to make a few remarks. It is not necessary that I introduce our esteemed fellow citizen.” As John approached the edge of the platform he looked down into the face of Susan and made a mental note of the surprise expressed in her countenance. He paused a moment, as if improvising a speech, while he chuckled inwardly at the satisfaction the occasion afforded. Now, he whispered to himself, he would show her the caliber of man he was; he would prove that he could “rise to the occasion.” And rise to the occasion he undoubtedly did. His was the-most eloquent,' the most logical and the most impressive speech delivered that day. As he concluded he was greeted by a loud and prolonged applause. He stepped down from the platform and made his way toward Susan. As he approached, he observed a twinkle in her eyes, but did not trouble himself with an explanation just then. H 3 was too happy. She arose and took hold of his arm. "Let us go off to some place where! we can sit alone,” she said. They made their way toward the outskirts of the crowd. When they had reached a point where they could speak without' being overheard, he turned to her questlcnlngly. “Well,” he said, “dM I—” "You certainly did, John,” she interrupted. "Who would have, thought it?” The sublime had been attained. “Who wrote it for you, John?” she asked. "Wrote it?” in hurt surprise. “Why, nobody.” They walked along in silence. “How long did it take you to prepare it, John?” He did not answer. “Yes, you certainly did rise to the occasion, John. Now, you want to be careful not to fall, lest—” Fate would have it that he fell that instant. Twitted and stung by her raillery, he had been walking perilously near the edgd of the high dirt bank that overhung the creek, without thought of danger. As she spoke, the ground beneath his feet gave way, and he Went tumbling through the dirt and sand into eight feet of water below., ' Susan shrieked, and the crowd, alarmed by her cry, began to rush to the spot. As the gathering in front of the speakers’ stand broke away in large groups, the chairman arose and asked the cause of the commotion. He was answered by a little urchin, who s|ood up in the seat of a farm wagon.

"Why, Jack Moran’s fell in the crick,” shouted the lad. John was dragged out at the ford, a short distance down the creek. v About his eyes, mouth, nose and ears, and over a part of his clothing, were black splotches of mud. Resuscitating methods were applied, and as he began to revive, the crowd drew back, leaving him stretched out on a buggy lap-robe and attended by Susan. When he opened his eyes, she was kneeling by his side and looking down into his face. “Did I rise—” he began. “There—there,” Soothingly. “Yes, you did. Now, He quiet." She gently stroked the hair back from his brow. He grasped her hand in his and she suffered him to hold it. One night, three months later, after the wedding toasts had been proposed and John had made his response, he made a mental observation to himself, as he took his seat. “I wonder,” he reflected, “whether it was my celebration speech, or the tumble I got?”