Rensselaer Journal, Volume 11, Number 8, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 1 August 1901 — The Unwelcome Guest [ARTICLE]

The Unwelcome Guest

By Fierce B. Barnard.

WHEN Jim Busby returned from the West to his native town of Canaan, he did not expect to find his (nemory canonized. Fifteen years was hardly enough time, he thought, for his fellow townsmen to forget bis faults or enlarge upon his virtues. Doubtless those people were still alive Who, if they remembered the boy at ill, would do it to their sorrow; still lime usually softens grievances, and Dusby, with the aid of his newly acquired wealth, hoped to find some Itlnd of quasi welcome in the quiet town under the elms. He had never seriously injured any One, he thought, and, although the village dogs might beat a hasty retreat On the return of this prince of practical jokers, the majority of the inhabitants had enjoyed in full measure his many pleasantries. Busby—now grown up to wealth and filgnity—was not a little ashamed of Ills early pranks, and he determined, os he alighted from the stage and entered the city hotel, to sign some fictitious name and look cautiously about the old place to see what his standing might be among the saints at home. He was highly gratified to find the town unaltered in any particular. We like to see change and progress in the great world at large, but opr native glace, where we spent the happy years Of our boyhood, is blessed with too faany memories to admit of any improvement. Busby was thankful to find the village parson preaching the same kind Of exclusive hereafter that had frightened him into obedience fifteen years before. He congratulated himself on finding the old pump still yielding delicious water from the same cracked •pout; to have repaired it would have been an impertinence he felt He blessed the lazy and penurious .school blrectors for having failed to plug up ft single knot hole in the venerable Abode of knowledge where a succession of pedagogical tyrants had only partly subdued his spirit of fun.The external landmarks of Canaan .•till stood intact, but among the personnel of the inhabitants there were many missing faces. The old fogies were mostly on deck— Busby’s inveterate foes—a little more talkative, malevolent and reminiscent perhaps. They were whittling on the same red fence which had always served as a resting place for the unemployed. Jim listened to the records Of the young man who had gone West and the girls who had married wealthy men. Some of his old associates occupied positions of honor and trust; In fact, all had done well—so well, that he felt emboldened to ask after hlm•elf—not without many misgivings. There was a slight change of expression on the faces of the old worthies at the mention of this wayward youth. CThe oldest inhabitant coughed, the postmaster grinned, and the venerable deacon looked the other way with a knowing smile. It was a trying moment for Jim. Their significant glances nettled, him not a little, and he could not refrain from coming to his own defence. “He was always an active boy," he •aid. “Too everlastingly active?’ returned the deacon a suggestive grin. “Every dog and cat knows he never slept I calculate there weren’t no kind o’ tomfoolery he didn’t practice before he pulled out of here of a sudden. Everybody prophesied he'd be bung, and I guess the best people felt relieved when they got the sad news of his execution. I know I did.” Jim tried to whistle a tune In an unconcerned way, but it was with difficulty that he concealed bis feelings. It’s something of a shock to find oneself hanged, and It takes time to get used to it. He spent the day amusing himself with the younger element, who fortunately knew not Jim Busby. They liked him at once. His plaid suit, heavy gold watch and plug hat seemed to embody certain ideals of youthful grandeur; and his free use of money •asily cemented their friendshipa The next day he hunted up his parents In the little graveyard and decided to replace the wooden headboard With a piece of marble in due tim ? He fclso chatted with several old women at work in their gardens, and found Jim Busby had been anything but a favorite of the other sex. it was Indeed very discouraging. He felt reVengeful. Finally, In despair, he asked the editor If anything had happened that was

worth printing sines Jim Busby |> »s ten. “Nothing to speak of," answered the editor, stroking his chin whiskers, “and ws’re thankful for It Fifteen years ago a body couldn't go to bed without expecting to wake up and "M his live-stock on the roof of his house or his black cow whitewashed a pete pink." “Confound it!" said Jim, out of pe> tlence. “You people haven’t treated Jim Busby right; you enjoyed hie jokes as much as he did." “Well, what is that to you, please I" “Simply this; I am Jim Busby." The news spread quickly. “I don’t believe it" said the oldest inhabitant who stood near. “That can’t be—Jim Busby never behaved himself two days together in bit whole life.” “Well, it’s a fact any ways," said Jim. “I’ve been ont knocking round for fifteen years without scarcely a postage stamp to my name, and when I made my stake I thought I’d hunt up a relative or two to share it with me; but I find these people think, when they’ve got a feller hung, they’ve done enough for one man." “Pshaw, Jim!" said one. “If we’d aknowed it was you, It would hava been different” Most of the bystanders agreed with him. “It for one, am satisfied Jim Busby was hung,” said the deacon. “I got the hull account of it In my scrap-book; but as you seem to be an uncommon good feller I’d like to make your acquaintance—so come- over to the house for dinner and we’ll argue the point” “I don’t want to destroy any old memory that has been such a comfort to you,” said Jim, “so I won’t accept your hospitality now, but I do want to make things right Your fool story about my hanging has blackened my reputation a good deal and helped my aged parents Into an early grave, but I’m willing to let bygones be bygones. I want to get solid with future generations and you can help me. The deacon, there, can make a rousing good speech and the editor can give it a send off. To-morrow morning, at three, I want you to take a wagon, with some straw in It, to Canaan Junction. A bronze statue of yours truly will arrive by an early express. Gents, you understand?” They understood, and although there were serlou3 doubts In the deacon’s mind about this being Jim Busty, he wasn’t the man to miss an opportunity of making a speech, and he set about preparing a rich euloglum of the practical joker which he rehearsed In his barn the rest of the afternoon. The oldest Inhabitant got out his lemonade stand, the editor Issued an extra, and the village brass band prepared to turn out. The next morning by the dim light of stars they all hied them to the Junction five miles off, and awaited the arrival of the statue .of the great man. It was raining hard, but what of that? Their anticipations made them young again, and they could hardly wait until the train stopped. But the express came aqd went with nothing but disappointment for the Canaanltes. / As they returned home a vague feeling of uneasiness and dread overtook the party, and many began to heap maledictions affesh upon the promoter of this fool’s errand; but when all got back to the hotel and found their late visitor departed, their worst fears were realized. It was the deacon who remarked somewhat sadly to the weather-beaten, crestfallen crowd: “Well, I guess that was Jim Busby, after all.”—Waverley Magazine.