FATE'S FOOL.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume L, Issue 313, 11 January 1908, Page 4

FATE'S FOOL.

(By E. Newton Bungey.)

1. Fleet Street ww proud of James (jamah—' l 4 Our Jimmy, ' as he was aflectiouately called. He had soared to the top of the ladder, without climbing up step by step, and liad a brilliant career before him. Kvery editor wanted him, but he stuck to his lirst love, the Morning Argus. He sat in the smoking-room of the Native Club one evening. He was to be married a fortnight later to Alias DoiJy Kdmundson, the daughter of the editor of a leading magazine, and this event was now occupying bis thoughts. The latter were suddenly interrupted by the entrance of some other new-paper men. "Here's Jimmy," one cried, "pondering over his terrible future. Poor old Jiiuiny!"

"He will be poor old Jimmy if be doesn't take his nose off the grindstone for a bit," said another. " Jimmy, old man," he added seriously, " you're overdoing it. Take my tip and rest now until your marriage, otherwise you'll crawl up the aisle." " Can't be done," remarked Jimmy. " You chaps know it's either sink or swim with me, I can't float." They were careless words, but in the time to come they were recalled by all Mho heard them.

" Fancy the boy a benedick." died the first speaker. Jimmy smiled curiously. Despite his twenty-six years and brilliant abilities be was a boy in many ways. His heart was light, anil he took up every new theme with a youthful enthusiasm that was delightful. He could not rest, for he was ever doing something, generally work. His friends spoke of brain fag «ind other alarming contingencies, but Jimmy smiled at them all, and slogged jn harder than ever. Then it was that Mac Donald, a leaderwriter on the Comet, took it upon himself to explain matters to .Hiss Kdmiind*on. He was a blunt-speaking old s'cotchman without fear. •'Miss Edmundson," he said, "I take it ye'll no be wantin' to marry a daftie?" "Why, what do you mean?" the girl vrled.

Mac Donald removed his pipe from his animth. a most unusual' occurrence: in iiact, many of his friends would have failed to recognise him tinder such circumstances. " It's just this, my dear." he said. "That hoy of youro is workiig himself to death. If he's not pulled up Jie'll be •lead or daft before he's married." " f have spoken to him. Mr. MacDon«W," the girl replied. 'He says he won't •work so hard when we're married. He's ■promised me that." ''Well,! hone he'll last,'' muttered'the journalist. "But I'm very doubtful." The old Scotchman's prophecy was only too correct, for a fev days before the marriage was to be celebrated, -limmy (Jarvish disappeared, leaving no trace behind him.

A man walked up to a dingy-looking lodging-house in a north-west suburb and inquired for rooms. The sharpfeatured woman who kept the house was only too glad to let him a couple of rooms when he offered a month's rent in advance. Smith was the name he gave—James Smith. He sat in the dreary sitting-room sucking steadily at his unlighted pipe. He was trying to remember who he was, where he had come from.

The man was James Garvish, bereft Of his memory. \ v He had waDdered the street* most of the day, and, with night coming on, had sought a resting-place—hence the lodg-ing-house. For over an hour he was trying to remember, but to no avail. Then he left the house, and presently returned with a bottle of brandy. While his senses remained he drank steadily, and then fell in a drunken stupor on to his bed. The next day was the same—drink, drink, drink! Whereas Jimmy Carvish had been nearly an abstainer, James Smith was rapidly lteconiing a dipsomaniac. A sharp attack of brain fever followed one. of these drinking bouts, and for over a month James Smith lay in his bed lighting with death. When lie became convalescent lie resumed his drinking habits.

In one of his sane moments he paid a goodly sum to his landlady: luckily, his purse had lieen very luli when his memory had left him. In these few sober periods, too, he was ever trying to recall the memory that had left him. One thing seemed a great link to the past, and that was a photo of Dolly Kdmundson tliat he carried. This, curiously enough, had been the only paper in his pockets.

Mrs. Scott, the landlady, had a good share of her sex's failing-curiosity, and she often wondered who' her Mr. Smith was. She could see he was. or had Wen, a gentleman, and once or twice, she had heard him raving w lion lie was partially intoxicated, and she gathered that b> memory was »one. Dolly Kd niuiidson's photo, which she had often seen, also excited her curiosity. So much so that the girl's image was en giaven on her memory. But all the while Jimniv drank steadily.

Mr-. Senlt >viw walkinjr down Hogeiit Viri'i't. Suddenly :i p;irria»e iTr<"w up "par h'-t. iind ;i lady jji.l nut. 11l a' second she ri'iiii>niM>il Dolly Kdninnilsnii. "" 'ln- ini|.ul- ilu- moment the iwniiiiii airo-ted the rjirl. " Km-ini' tin-, mi*-," she said, - Iml have ymi lost anyone I mean." she "'■ill mi liunii'illy. "Hiiro's a oentfomnn who has rooms in my hoitsf. He's got yiuii- photo, and I don't think lie knows •|iiil.- who he is" Dolly ralmiimlhon's face flushed—tinr(ks,u had left it sinee .liminy had gone - and hor listli.-s hvm lit up with a won di-o- tin-. "■let in li.-n-.- sin- said. loaSling the nay ti, tho e.irriage. Slip told IJip i-om-h----maii in ilrivi- on .doivly. iind tln-n turned ivi-iti-dly to Ik-i- eompanion. who was revelling iii her surroundings. "Whiil, is he liki-y Dpscril,,- ln,„ 1,-, dip." -.hp eried. Tlip woman eomplieil as nel! as sl,p eollhl.

" It's .liiutiui ItV .limniy!" nini--nitirpil Hip jrirl in low. Ipnsp (oih-s. "Win-re is your h'liis,.? Will volt! let nip drive ymi (lien- itim r This irpirtlpnian is a "rent friend of miiio." she i-rr-d. "Willin»lv. miss." r.-pliod Hip lail.d 1-iilv. flnshino with pleasure at the a.n-tii-ination of her neiohhoiirs soeiii"- her driven up to hor hoii.-p in a smart, hroiofliini. Shi- gave the address to n-.llv. and Ihe eirl instrni-teil Hie i-oai-h----iv-ii In drive llioro. ■' IV,;!riti._> vmir i.ai'doii. Miss." said the woman. -- tin- lirou-haiH mllea! s-iviftlv alonjr. '■ l„,| \f r v. m n\, ), as been tarryire o% dreadful." j f

" Mr. Smith?" repeated Dolly. I " Yes, miss. That's his name." i "Oh, how stupid of me." .Miss Kdiuundson saw no necessity to com- | inuiiieate Jimmy's real name. [ I " Hut how do vou mean, carrving on dreaillully?" she'went on. I " Why, he's n ■ver sober, miss." I "What!" Doily turned almost viciously ou her companion. "Then I'm ! alia id there must be some error. Just tell me all you know of Mr.—er— Miiith." • The landlady complied, Dolly's expression gradually growing more horrified. . Th - date of Smith'.- arrival tallied with , th.- (Lite of Jimmy's disappearance. But Jimmy never drank to excess; he rarely took intoxicants at all. Dolly's heart chilled as Mrs. Scott rattled oif sundry details of Jimmy's drunken orgies. "Oh, Jimmy, Jimmy!" she whispered in anguish. IV. Mr. Smith sat in his sitting-room staring vacantly at the wall opposite. I'.v bis side was a partly-filled bottle of brandy.

"Always go roun' ; n circles," he muttered. "'Mos' remarkable thing. Ilrmn' ;'ii' roun' nu' roun —mos' slonlinary. Wunnor why wall-paper lets 'em do it. V' ■ -s an' lilies, roun' an* roun' all time " •'i'-uinv was suffering from th" aft-i----"HVtv'nf a slight attiuk of delirium iviivns. II- was simply bound hand it!i-< f oot in tin- "rip of his dise-se. the eravinir f nr snirits. He had fiven mi windrrinir n,tid trvini to rei-nllcd. He did not trouble wh't wis go'ng to happen when his rapidly dimn'ishing store of monev was irone. "Mr. Smith!" Mrs. Scott's voire broke in on his contemplation of the -novini; wall-paper pattern. " Mr. Smith! There's a lady to see you." "Does she tro roun' an' ronn'i" inOirred .Tininiy gravely. "Oh dear, oh dear, you can't see anyhr.dv in this state." cried the landlady in il'smav.

" You will pardon me, madam," remarked Jimmy in dignitied tones. "My vision is in no way impaired. F'r'instance, 1 can see you going roun' an' roun' in perfectly natural manner." " 1 have followed you upstairs, Mrs. Scott," came Dolly's voice., causing the landlday to turn anxiously. lint the sound of the voice had an electrical effect on Jimmy. He got to his feet, gripped the back of the chair, aim", breathing hard, ejaculated: " Who spoke? I say, w'u> spoke?" For answer Dolly Edmundson entered the room. At the spectacle before her she staggered back. Could this hollowcheeked, heavy-eyed creature be the bright, keen-looking Jimmy? This man was disgusting—his eyes were bleared, his hair unkempt. The place reeked of spirits; it was revolting. "The photo!" muttered Jimmy, the gaze from his bloodshot eyes fixed intently on the girl's deathly white face. "Why have you come? Who are you? I have asked you so often who you are—you have never spoken before." He took th? photo from his pocket and stared at it. "Jimmy, don't yon remember me?" pleaded the girl,'her pity awakened. •• Don t vou remember Dolly?"

"Dolly?" repealed the man hoarsely, dropping the photo and clasping his hands to his head. " Ah, .it hurts. Dolly—Dolly—l can't—l can't " "Yes. yes, Jimmy, try," cried Dolly quickly. " You remember the Morning Argus? You remember Rendle, MacDonal.l. Needier. Edmundson. Story?" With each word the man's fingers secnieii to lie pressed closer into his scalp. Then a sudden shuddering gnsp left his lips. "Dolly!" he cried, dropping his hands and gazing around him in mystification. "How did I come here? 1 remember tramping tlirough the streets, then I asked for rooms, and- I've been here ever since. Gad! I remember all now. l'«h! What have I been doing? How long have I been here:?" In a few words Polly told liim what had happened lo him. each word waking his memory afresh. He sat down and vested bis head on his hands, trying to lake everything in. Then, suddenly, there came a terrible craving, and hj" stood to bis feet and reached for the brandy bottle. "•Hiii! You mustn't!" cried Dolly, stepping forward between Carvish and th» soirit.

"Why not?" he asked unsteadily, lie wanted to push the girl aside, so terrific was the desire within him. For a few momenta his manhood fought with the craving, and for the time being the former won. "Oh, Jim. you must not give way." the girl entreated. "Fight hard. Jim; lie your old self again. Come back to us all, to me. We have all wanted you so much, dear, everyone will welcome you with open arms." 'Like thi-V" asked the man bitterly; be pointed to his reflection in a mirror. •'They need never know—you can make yourself look like you used to. Jimmy."

Tlip girl took a step nearer the man as she spoke, lint lie held out his bands to ward her off. '• Keep away from me," he said hoarsely. '• I'm not tit to he near yon. 1 should cry ' I'm-lean! Unclean!' like n leper. l>et me rest quietly now. (!od knows I don't want you to go, dear, but it would Ih' lietter to leave me. And taki—take " he paused uncertainly, ami then linisheil his sentence with a sudden ru-.li of words. "Take that with vou; don't leave it here"—he pointed to the brandy pottle. "I shall conic hack to-morrow, Jimmy," said the {.'ill. recognising at once that he was West alone. "1 can trust you, can't IV" •• Vou can," he replied simply. " I'll tell no one, Jimmy. Good-bye, old hoy. Keep strong." - Good-bye," be whispered hoarsely, and it was only the knowledge of his unclcanlinens that caused him to resist the temptation to take the girl in his arms.

Hut on the morrow, when the girl came again to the lodging-house, the landlady inet her with a scared face. " lie's gone, ini*s," she said. "He left me a note to say he wasn't coming kick, and here's one for you. miss." With a sudden fear at her lu'art. the girl broke open the envelope. This is the letter it contained:

Dear, 1 am going away to learn to be a man again, lo wasli away the tilth accumulated in these dark days. I shall either come out top and come back to you, dear, or else go under, and our good-bye will be lor all lime. I think it will be the former, dear. I've got a big light before ine I want lo drink, the desire seem* like to burn my heart out. Hut, God helping me, I'll crush It, dear. Don't forget me, pray for me. remember me as 1 was, and not, as the wreck you «aw to-day. Goodbye, dear. Cod bless you, as 1 trust he will me. Jimmy."

Anil that was the last of Jimmy Garvish for maiiv a dav. To a few of his closest friends Dolly" told the history of how she had found her lover and lost him again. Like herself, they waited. Two year> had gone by. At the top of the 'journalistic ladder in New York was .lames Harper, sometime Jam,,. Smith, originallv .lininiv Calvish. He had grown a lieard. had' t old friends. but no one knew him for "Our Jimmy." He was just as much in reipiest in the New York newspaper world as lie had been in London. His name was as familiar as the President's.

He had fought down the craving for drink, and was a lotal abstainer. In fact, in most respects, was a liner man than before his fall. Certainly his work was more brilliant, because he had been amongst the dregs n< life. At last he felt himself lit to I'll re liollv L'dmiiml-on again. All this time he liad longed eagerly for her. but only once or twice had he lieard of her. and then only in a roundabout manner. He obtained leave of absence, and sailed for England. It was night when he arrived in London, and his lirst duty was to have his heard and moustache removed. Then he was the old-time .liminv again. Willi a light heart and eager face he made his way to Mr. Kdmiindson's lionsin Kensington, Quickly he sprang up ihe steps and pulled lustily at the hell. A trim maid responded to his ring.

"1 want to see Miss Kdmunibon." be said. ■' Mjss Kflmiiurf'nu ?" Hie maid repealed in surprise. ■'Yes." cried Jimmy, a sudden feeling of apprehension seizing him. '• Miss l)ollv Kdniundson." "Whv. sir. didnT you know? Miss Dolly died two months ago." A man groped his way to the Kmjinnknieiit. and there was a vacancy at the top of the ladicr. Iron cloth is largely used to-day by tailors for makiinr the collars of coats sit properly. II is nianufacinreil by a new process from the steel wool. Mid lias the appearance of having been woven from horsehair.