Rensselaer Union, Volume 8, Number 48, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 17 August 1876 — George Henry Brown and His Lost Mary. [ARTICLE]

George Henry Brown and His Lost Mary.

A young rat of a boot-black was loafing around the corner of Griswold and Congress streets just after the storm yesterday when along came a young man in a great hurry. His hat was wet and lop-sided, his linen coat wet through, his boots covered with mud and his shirt bosom had wilted right down to a handful of imitation coral studs and eighteen-cent linen. The boy was going to oner his professional services —any boot-black would offer a “shine” if a man’s boots had been soaked in the rivet for a month—but the young man got ahead of him. He asked .- “Boy, have you seen a girl go by here?” “Lots of gals passing here every hour in the day,” waa the answer. “Yes, I know, but this was my girl— Mary—rather tall—white hat—white overskirt—green parasol—red tie—great lands! but where is my Mary?” “Lost, ch?” queried the young Napoleon. “Yes —left me down the street while I Was buying this hat.” “Any relashun of yours?” asked the boy as he looked up and down. “Relation! Why, she’s my girl—the one I love —the one I’m going to marry. I’ll give you a quarter to help find her.” The boy sat down on his box, spit across the walk and meditated, and finally said; “I think I saw that ’ere gal about half an hour ago.” “You did! Then we are on the trail.” “Yes, she passed here, and I tell you she looked as sweet as a peach.” “Yes, yes, that’s the,one! Everybody remarks how handsome she is.” “ And tlie feller with her had on one of these cut-away-off coats, diamond pin, big sleeve-buttons, cane, great big collar, and he w r as just looking into her eyes as if he loved her to death.” “W —what!” gasped the young man; “then there was some one with her?”

“Someone? Well, I should say sol They were locked arms, she had the Sara-toga-grab on her dress, and as they passed me he patted her on the cheek.” “Boy—boy—look—out! Mary has always been as loving as a dove and as true as one of them lamp-posts. It couldn’t have been Mary!” \ “ Couldn’t, eh ? Well, all right. You axed me if I had seen her, and then go on to call me a liar. Now I won’t move a peg to help find her!” “Say, boy, see here!” whispered the man, beckoning the lad to step into the alley behind the express office. When they were off the street he continued: “ Now, boy, be square, and I’ll give you ten cents, ft might have been Mary, but I can hardly believe it. She loved her George too well, or seemed to.” “Is your name George ?” “ Yes—George Henry Brown—live out here ’leven miles.” “ More prufi—stronger prufl —wuss and wuss!” exclaimed the boy, slapping his leg. t “ When that couple went by me the feller said: ‘How could you think, my darling, of linking your fate to that of such an old pill as George Henry Brow n ?’ Just them words said he.” “He did, eh ? By the big Harry! he called me an old pill, eh?” “And she grinned, and blushed, and tittered, and poked him in the ribs with her parasol, and says she, ‘George is a reglar flat, but I was after a set of jewelry.’ Then he patted her on the ear, and I heard ’em talking about ice-cream, sody water, preachers, certificate of marriage and a leetle cottage on the hillside. Sunthin’told me it wasn’t right, and you don’t know how bad I felt.” “It’s all right, bub,” replied the man, as he laid down ten cents. “You keep cool—mum is the word. There’ll be tears shed in the west end of Wayne County before Saturday night or I’ll be under ground!” “Goin’ to hurt somebody?” asked the shiner. “Keep cool —don’t toiler me—don’t say anything! Show me the stoie where they sell sword-canes and brass knuckles!” About an hour after that the Chief of Police was waited upon by George and his girl Mary. They took chairs, and George dropped his hat on the floor and inquired: “Is there any law around here to punish a boy who goes and lies to you and sets you half crazy, and almost breaks up one of the lovingest, nicest, sweetest marriage engagements anybody ever heard of?” He might hake referred to the boothlack.—Detroit Free Prue.