THE WRONG MAN.

Te Aroha News, Volume II, Issue 102, 16 May 1885, Page 4

THE WRONG MAN.

I am cortainly the most unfortunate man in the world. If not, how does.it happen that I ain not married to Mies Priscilla Pritchard, only child and sole heiress of the late not much lamented Jedokiah Pritchard, of Pritchardstown ? She is worth a hundrod thousand pounds, at the very lowest computation ; and I — I'm not worth a penny, except in the way of credit. But I am worth a good round sum in that way, and have plenty of unpaid bills j to prove it. | It was almost a sure thing. I know she would have said " yes," if I had popped the question the last time we met. Oh, why didn't 1 pop the question the last time we met ? It ia of no use, I suppose, to cry over spilled milk. She has gone and married another man, I understand ; and I am done for. You see, I loved her passionately, with my whole heart and soul, and was greatly in want of money. She entertained, I think, a strong feeling of regard for mo ; and as she had had very few offers for tho last four years, she might easily have boon led to accept my hand heart, and— no, not fortune ; I have none, but, wo will say, my name, which is just as good, if a body only thinks so. Only sho doesn't think so any longer. Lot me collect my bewildered senses, and relate tho harrowing story. It may calm me. Peter Cogsmith is one of my oldest friends. Wo were boys together. Pie is celebrated for two things only, so far as I know ; for being cross-eyed, and for carrying the largest, vulgareab silk handkerchiefs— all red, and yellow, streaked and spotted— that ever were seen. Notwithstanding which, he is an excellent fellow. If he had been a little better fellow, he might have boon celebrated for that too. But he had a serious failing— his back closely resembled that of a respectable old gentleman with whom I am but slightly acquainted. I hate respectable old gentlemen with whom I am but slightly acquainted. I remember that when Cogemith and 1 were at school together, he used already to carry those hideous handkerchiefs, and it was considered rather a good lark among the boys to stoal them out of his pocket. The head boy of our class had eight of them all at once that he had stolen and accumulated. Ah, why did I remember tho frolicsome day3 of boyhood ? Why did lever attempt to rcnow a forgotten sportiveness and an obsolete jocundity '! Let me pause to drop a briny pearl, and proceed with a fresh penful of ink. Business— which I loathe and detest — keeps mo occupied during the daytime, and my only hours of recreation are those that I snatch from the balmy period of slumber. Therefore I never had many opportunities to visit Miss Priscilla Pritchard save on Sundays, and on the evening3 of the week. My suit, then, prospered slowly, but it did prosper. Oh, yes ! Did 1 not press her hand unreproved ? Did I not insinuate, three several times times, that I considered her personal attractions considerably superior to the average ? Did I not express my affection for her in a thousand nameless ways— by sighs, by signs, by moans, by groans, by every means, in a word, that your skilful lover understands so well ? Of course I did. And she— she not only accepted all this homage, so delicately tendered, but gave mo to understand that she should like to have me keep at it. " Frailty, thy name is Woman !" How true ! It was one year ago, last Wednesday night, that she and I s-at alone in the back parlour of Misa Piitchard's palatial residence. Wo were alone. I had been getting along very finely, but somehow I could not get my courage up to the point. So I determined to give myself one more chance, the next night. I had a brilliant idea— something new and orignal. Young men, take warning by my fate ! Never trust brilliant new and original ideas. Strike whilo the iron is hot, and clinch the nail as soon as possible ! My idea was to invite Miss Priscilla to accompany me to the Opera, and to propose to her between the acts. I flattered myself that music's dreamy swell, the faint perfumes of the house en toilette, the mellowed glitter of a thousand lights, the witchery of the spectacle, all would lend an artful aid, and ensure the success for which I trembled. Concealing my emotion, I suggested the Opera, for the evening following, in my airiest manner. And I can bo very airy when I choose. To my infinite delight, Miss Pritchard ac ccpted tho invitation, and with an avidity that made my hopes go up to the loftiest pitch. Assurance, I felt, was doubly sure. But alas ! ' ' Who, " ea> s a friend of mine, ' ' who can read the future ?" What sagacity in that reflection ! I retired to my humble abode, and slept the sleop of a happy and hopeful man. The next morning, refreshed and joyful, I sought the counting houso of Podger, Strother, and Company, where I earn my daily bread. I overdrew my salary, in order to pay for the private box. I applied myself to my labours, and was cheerful ; nay, vivacious to an unwonted degree. At five o'clock, leaving the office, I sauntered up the street, on my homewatd way. I felt so good, I hardly knew what to do with myself. " No more adding up of wearisome columns, old boy," I said to myself. "No more plodding to and fro afoot, in an old ink-stained tweed coat. No more hard times and short commons, but a brougham to ride in, and kid gloves every day. Hoorah !" As I mentally uttered this joyous exclamation, I saw Cogsmith loiter ing thoughtfully along, in his peculiar manner, just ahead of me. I resolved to inform him of the fact that I was to have a box and a splendid girl at the Opera that night, to overwhelm and impress him with a belief that I was in "society," a regular swell, and all that sort of thing. As I overtook him, 1 noticed that his handkerchief— a more balefully odious one than ever— was hanging about six inches out of his pockot. Remembering the ancient lark of our schooldays, and feeling, as I have said, uncommonly youthful and frisky, I dexterously twitched the wretched rag from his pocket, and passed by him with a loud ''atiem." He did not look up and recognise me as I had thought he would, and as I got a step or two by I turned to confront him. Horror of horrors ! It wasn't Cogsmith at all ! At the same moment a horrible little boy shouted, " Here ! mister ! He's got your handkercher."

The person whom I had mistaken for Cogsmith, but who was quite a respectablelooking old gentleman, immediately clapped his hand to his pocket, missed his handkerchief, and collaring me indignantly began to call for the police. " Stop, air!" I vociferated, trying to pull away from him ; " stop ! I'm not the man ! I thought you were Peter— upon my soul I did ! You're mistaken, sir ; I didn't steal it -I » " You scoundrel ! M cried the old gentleman. "I'll teach you to steal in the streets ! You villain ! Police ! Police !" An enormous crowd gathered immediately and two officers stepped forward. In endeavouring to free myself from the assailant's grasp, I had lost my hat. My collar and cravat had been disordered, and my face had become extremely red. I felt that circumstances were decidedly against me. " Well, cully," said a flashy-looking youth near me, in a sympathising tone, ** you're not fly at cly faking, eh ? Why didn't you hook it?" " I think I know that cove," said one of the officers. "I b'lieve he's the same feller that grabbed some money from a clerk as was coming from the bank on Monday 1" " He looks like a hardened rascal," said the respectable old gentleman whom I had mistaken for Cogsmith ; "take him to the station-house at once !" In vain I expostulated, entreated, and threatened . In vain I demanded permission to send for reference as to my character and position. It was no go. I was ignominiou8ly dragged off to the station-house, with a ragged and dirty crowd following and jeering me. Just as the rabble had reached its pitch of noise and numbers, I met Miss Vriscilla's cousin, the young man with weak eyes and a yellow moustache, who always hated me. He raised his eye-glass, smiled scornfully, and passed by without a word. Then I knew that my doom was sealed ! To be brief, I was locked up for examination. I gave the name of J ohn Smith to the inspector, but a boy in the crowd — an errand boy in the next office to ours—knew me, and informed the dignitary that I was travelling under an alias. I was registered then under my own name, with " alias John Smith" tacked to it, for all the world like a veritable thief, and taken to the filthiest, foulest cell imaginable. The next day I was allowed to send for anybody I wanted to see, and succeeded in proving my respectability sufficiently to be let off with a severe reprimand. But the arrest, and my name, were chronicled in all the daily papers. I wrote a note of apology to Miss Priscilla for having broken my engagement to take her to the opera. The note (she knew my handwriting) was returned unopened. I rushed to the house to give her a personal explanation. "Miss Pritchard is not at home, sir," said the footmen, with a supercilious grin. I have not been able to have a word with her, or dee her since ; and I know, I feel, that the cup has been dashed from my Iip3 for ever ! Oh, why did Cogsmith 's back so closely resemble that of the respectable-looking old gentleman ? Am I not tho most unfortunate man in the world ?