Rensselaer Union and Jasper Republican, Volume 8, Number 22, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 17 February 1876 — KINGSBORO’S PUZZLE. [ARTICLE]

KINGSBORO’S PUZZLE.

v Nobody at Kingsboro Anew what to make of it. Deacon Turner, the oldest inhabitant, said tiiat during his earthly pilgrimage he had sojourned at numerous towns, but in no one of them had any young man who drupsed nicely and did no work turned out well. Capt. Brown, who worked hard but managed so badly that he was never out of debt, glared savagely whenever he saw handsome Jo Mallison with his hands in the pockets of his neatly-fitting coat, and took occasion to remark to the first person he met that he wished the old days, in which people who had no visible means of support were prosecuted, would return again. Squire Beatem, who kept the postofflee, admitted to certain astute questioners that Jo Mallison never received letters, so it was impossible that any one was sending him money with which to support himself in idleness. Suspicion even ran so high that Bill Bridger, who was the only apothecary and candy-seller at Kingsboro, and who had Jo Mailison for quite a steady customer, made it a rule to examine very carefully every bank note that Jo offered in payment, lest haply the handsome donothing might be circulating counterfeits. The married women at Kingsboro, who had to work as hard as women almost always do in new towns in young States,carefully pointed out Jo to their sons as an example to be shunned, except so far as personal neatness was concerned. But the Kingsboro girls differed from the rest of the community in their estimation of Jo. He might be indolent—in fact they knew he was, for he might almost always be sear a* thrombi street of the village, sauntering along while other men were at work—but he was handsome I. and he dressed with real taste, and his breath never smelt of liquor or tobacco, and he was always polite, and he never was awkward or*ill at ease or presuming when in the society of ladies, and he seemed to understand all his fair companions so well. In all these respects he was quite different from most of the Kingsboro boys, so that when good mothers warned their daughters against young men who could only give fine words in proof of affection, the damsels experienced strong misgivings as to what they would say if Jo Mailison were to propose. But Jo saved them the necessity of deciding any such question. He proposed to nobody; he made love to nobody; he seemed to have no special favorites among the girls of Kingsboro.. He never evqa flirted; he seemed to heartily enjoy himself when with ladies, and to express nis 1 gratitude so deftly as to leave no one a word upon which to base a suspicion of any stronger sentiments. And he did not stop with conquering the hearts of all the Kingsboro girls. Without any seemingintention to do so, he won the hearts of a few of the elderly women in the town. They did not mean to give countenance to a showy idler, but somehow, when Jo would coax some bad or fVetful child to take a walk with him, and then send the child home with a head full of Bible storiee ana a mouth full of pretty songs, the mother of the child would reluctantly admit Ijiat the handsome young do-nothing did have it real good heart. But still Jo aid no' work, nor did he try to do any. He boarded at the only hotel in town, paid his bills, avoided the bar-room, never played cards, always went to church on Sundays, and ever formed one of the scant score of faithful v souls who on Wednesday evenings used to hold a prayer meeting in a corner of Kingsboro Church. There was not at Kingsboro any club, that institution so industriously hated by all good women, but there was a gather-ing-place which fulfilled all the requirements of a club, and that waa the postoffice. The mail stage was nominally due at seven th the evening, so half the male inhabitants congregated in Bill Burth’s saddle-shop, which formed the anteroom of the postofflee, immediately after supper, and they usually enjoyed a two-hour season of conversation before the arrival and distribution of the mail gave them a hint to go home. Subjects for conversation were not very numerous at Kingsboro, and as the few native characters with, any salient points had been very thoroughly discussed during the many sessions of the men who Waited for the mail, the arrival of Jo Mailison was a perfect godsend. It is hardly necessary to say mat Jo found but few companions among the Kingsboro men. The young men hated him for estranging their sweethearts, and each of Che older men was afraid that Jo might marry his daughter and come uuder the parental roof for suppork Theories ajout Jo were plenty among the men who talked about him, but none of them were Battering to the . young man’s character: counterfeiter, burglar’s accomplice, confidence man, horse thief, fugitive from justice—there was some one to prove that. Jo deserved each, pi these unpopular appellations, while the only theory in the least degree tolerable was that of a scatter-brained youth who consumed quarts of hair-oil and read the New York Romancer—he believed Jo was an exiled Prince in disguise; but even Princes were unpopular among the hard-working population of Kingsboro. -t • ) > Oue cool night, several weeks after Jo’* appearance at Kingsboro, the opposing theorists as to Jo's character indulgedin-a many-corßered and very lively duel, it

was during a season when sudden atmospheric changes made most of the Kingsboro people bilious; otherwise the bitterness with which the conversation 1 finally came to be characterized would have been inexplicable. ’Squire Ripaon so far forgot his years and dignity of character as to call Bill Burth, hls temporary host, a fool for holding that Joe could be nojju ing worse than a well-to-do young man enjoying himself, while the aggrieved Bill, notwithstanding the kindliness of spirit which was proper to a man who was a Methodist class-leader, called the ’Squire a liar. Both men were upon their feet, inclining slightly forward toward each other, and looking words which should never'be spoken, when suddenly the mail-stage drew up with a crash at thedooi. The Postmaster threw a last parting glare at tne ’Squire, and hurried out for hls mail-bags, while the whole party followed to see who might be in the stage. The light streamed through the open door into the stage, and the villagers saw inside a single passenger, whom they recognized as a Cincinnati salesman, through whom some of the "Kingsboro merchants occasionally purchased goods. They were about to turn away in mingled disappointment and resignation, wlien suddenly Joe Mailison, Who had just arrived at the office sprang into the stage and threw himself noon the passenger, while the stage turned quickly, the driver whipped up Furiously, and started for the hotel. The stares which ‘passed around the party of spectators w«re simply appalling mtheir blankness. At last ’Squire Ripson recovered breath-enough, to gasp: -ii Detective! 1 * « “No such thing!” dhouted Bill Burth through the dellvaty window. “It’s probably the poor little fellow’s brother, and he’s been waiting for him weeks longer than he expected to.” A derisive smile played over the hills and valley’s of the ’fwuire’s face, and ho was about to say sonijfrhing savage, when the reader of the New York Romancer abandoned his theory of the disguised prince and suggested that Jo was a highwayman; that he knew traveling sajesmed carried lots of thorny: that he was robbing the salesman-, the driver Wan in league with him, and like enough they were a mile from town by this time instead of going t* the hotel. “ Jack Sheppard was a litme fellow,” said the theorist in evidence. - -“l’m going to (tie hotel,” said the ’Squire, starting for door and followed by the whole party. M. moment later the door of the Postmasters inner sanctum was heard to slam, aha Bill Burth came running to join the crowd. Sol. Turner, who carried crutches and was soon, left behind, shouted appealingly to them to do nothing until he got there to see, but no encouraging answer was wafted back to him.

The ho&l was gained, and the stage stood before the door, but the consequent .failure of the theory of the Romancer's reader could not stop the impetuous rush of the villagers. They crowded into the public room of the hotel, but neither Jo nor the stranger w* .there. In a mo* ment,“however, a door 'opened; antl'g*#"*’ Mrs. Butlerj~the landlady, appeared with a smile on her face and a tear in each eye. “ I know what you men are after,” she said. “Don’tever talk about woman’s curiosity again. The whole story is this: Jo Mailison is a woman, and Mr. Brown was her lover. They had some sort of a lover’s quarrel, and parted angry. She made upiier mind she was in the wrong, but by that time he had started on another trip. She once heard him say he never missed going to Kingsboro, so she came here in a suit of her brother’s clothes, and has.,been waiting for him ever since, poor girt. And they’ve made up, add are ever sq happy, and are going to be married tomorrow. And I’ve known about it all the time, and I’d have done just what she did if I’d have been her.” Thqlast clause of Mrs. Butler’s speech was enough to set Jo Mailison right in everyone’s eyes, for Mrs. Butler was one of those women who are trusted by every one on questions of propriety. But it is doubtful whether her hearers on this particular occasion remembered this portion of Mrs. Butler’s wonderful address until it was recalled by some slighting remark made by persons to whom the story was told at second-hand. The men said nothing to each other for several moments; then Bill Burth went meekly up to ’Squire Ripson and whispered: , “ I was a fool, ’Squire.” “ I was another,” whispered the ’Squire in return.

The interested parties had determined to have the wedding ceremony performed with the greatest privacy, but some one learned From Parson Fish the hour at which the service was to be performed, and the news spread rapidly, and the Kingsboro people took the matter into their own hands. They dressed in their best and besieged the hotel, and when the bride saw them through the slats of her window-blinds, her sense of fire moved her to order that they should be admitted so far as the capacity of the largest room in the hotel would allow. Then it was discovered that the bride had discreetly brought a trunkftil of her own proper apparel with her, and that she looked simply charming in a neat walking-suit and bonnet. Parson Fish made man and wife of Hubert L. Brown and Josephine M. Allison, and then “ Jo” kissed and was kissed by all the Kingsboro girls, and by many matrons who seem to grow younger as they looked into her happy free. As for the men, they looked as sheepish as they deserved to, but they had a new subject for conversation, and it. lasted the postofflee coterie for a full fortnight.— N. Y. Graphic.