Jasper County Democrat, Volume 23, Number 53, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 29 September 1920 — The Man From Huntington [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The Man From Huntington

By H. LOUIS RAYBOLD

(©, 1920, by McClure Newspaper Syndicate.) For seven long months Carter Ragsdale had been living in New York. It had been a decided change from Huntington, Miss., with its 2,878 population, approximately all his personal friends or cordial acquaintances. One had to be mentally alert in the offices of Richards Bros., There were no free intervals there for regrets and repinings. Particularly isl one had firmly determined to learn, in as short a time as possible, all the multitudinous details of a very big business, and some day to hold one of its proud positions. Evenings were different Then Carter Ragsdale had thought that he would gladly exchange all the thrills of metropolitan existence to be back at home again. On the first Sunday in May, when spring was making Central park a place of enchantment, throwing a soft veil of green over the chill loveliness it wears in winter, Carter Ragsdale went for a stroll through Its highways and byways. It was a beautiful morning. Things had been going well at the office. His chief, a man little given to praise, had spoken some words of warm commendation, the afternoon before. He had been given increased responsibility. There were hints of promotion, with a salary increase, before long. As he paced slowly that Sunday morning, Carter was thinking that things were indeed well with his world —if he might only sometimes see some one from home. Then he remembered the Huntington paper, the four-page weekly which came to his boarding house each Saturday, every line of which he read on Sunday. He sat down on a convenient beach, and drew the thin sheet from his pocket. No records of world happenings In the great New York papers vfere as interesting as the “Live Little Locals”

on the last page of the Huntington Mercury. One by one, he conned them. “Miss Bess Walpole sprained her ankle last Saturday at the Baptist Sunday school picnic at Laurel Creek.” “Mr. Roger Vernon has a new automobile.” From some sudden Impulse Carter Ragsdale raised his eyes. Directly opposite,- across the path, sat a strangely familiar figure. An old gentleman, lean of frame, aquiline of feature, keen of eye, was watching him. Instantly upon his feet. Carter Ragsdale whipped off his hat, and bounded the dozen intervening feet, his face exultant. "Why, Mr. Vernon,” he called, “who would ever have expected—” By this time he had reached the bench, where his park neighbor sat. "His face fell. “I beg your pardon, sir,” he stammered. “I thought —an old friend from home —from Mississippi—l had just been reading about him in my home paper. If I’d only stopped to think —but the resemblance really is Striking 1” Embarrassed, Carter started away, calling in valedictory, “I trust I have not annoyed you, sir.” The stranger summoned the young man to a seat beside him. “I did not catch the name of my double,” he said courteously. Then Carter made explanations. VMr. Roger Vernon, sir. He is president of the bank at home, and a very, fine gentleman. No one could object to having such a double.” Carter found himself talking quite at ease with his new acquaintance. The old gentleman boomed a laugh of hearty appreciation. "Your double has just bought a new

machine” —Carter indicated the newspaper Item. The headline of the "Mercury” caught the old gentleman's eye. "Jumping Jehosophat!” he exclaimed. “This ia strangel” - . - From an inner pocket he produced his card. Carter read: “James Roger Vernon.” “Young man, your Vernon’s my second cousin. I never was in Huntington in my life, and I never saw him. But Tve heard my father tell of visiting in Mississippi when he was a boy. I’ve always intended to get in touch with my southern relatives some day.” Just as they were launched on this topic, there came an interruption. A slim, graceful girl, with dark eyes and coppery hair, stood before them. “I’m Just getting introduced for the first time to my relatives In Mississippi,” explained the father. Alicia held out a pretty hand. “Oh,” she said, “is this a new cousin—from Mississippi?” Carter shook his head dolorously, “I’d certainly claim the relationship if I didn’t kndw I’d be shown up an impostor later! But the families are great friends. I sent my first valentine to your fourtla cousin.” Alicia laughed. To Carter it was the most charming he had ever heard. “How nice to have met you 1” she said. When they took their departure Carter walked beside them. Not far from the park a luxurious limousine waited, “Don’t forget our address, young man,” said Mr. Vernon. “Come to see us. Come to breakfast next Sunday— sharp. We’ve got a southern cook.” Tlfe recipient of this invitation stood as rapt as one upon whom manna from heaven was descending. He could scarcely murmur his grateful acceptance. As Mr. Vernon turned to give directions to the chauffeur, Alicia added: “I want to hear all about this fourth cousin Tve never seen. I scent romance.” As Alicia’s father bundled her into the car Carter protested, “Oh, no, she’s married now. It was just puppy love — a sort of trial heat” A lovely face smiled, “Never mind. You can find a romance here. New Yorkers always say one can find anything one wants.” Mr. Vernon leaned out to call, “Nine o’clock sharp 1” Then a certain young southerner, from whom a burden of loneliness had been magically lifted, went blissfully upon his way. Next Sunday was only seven off. New York was giving him business opportunity. Now the wonderful city held out another lure. “Find romance here ?” he quoted under his breath. “Why, It’s already found!”

“Why, Mr, Vernon."