 | Eli Perkins (at large) |  |
A BROWN'S BOY IN LOVE.
I know a Brown's Boy—Charley
Munson—whose pet theory has always
been to marry a rich orphan girl with
a hard cough—with the consumption.
One day he came into my room
almost heartbroken.
“My pet theory is exploded,” he
said. “I am discouraged. I want to die.” Then the
tears rolled down his cheek.
“What is it, Charley? O, what has happened?” I
asked.
“Ohoooo, Eli!” he sobbed, and then he broke down.
“But what is it, Charley? Confide in me,” I said,
my heart almost breaking in sympathy at his bereavement.
“Well, my friend, my dear friend, I will tell you all
about it.”
Then he leaned forward, took my hand tremblingly
in his, and told me his sad, sad story.
“The other day, Eli,” he said, “I met a very rich
young lady—the rich Miss Astor from Fifth avenue.
She was very wealthy—wore laces and diamonds—but,
alas! she didn't have any cough to go with them.
She had piles of money, but no sign of a cough—no
quick consumption—just my luck!”
Then he buried his face in his hands. He wept
long and loud.
“What else, Charley?” I asked, after he had returned
to consciousness.
“Well, yesterday, Eli, I met a beautiful young lady
from Chicago. She was frail and delicate—had just the
cough I wanted—a low, hacking, musical cough. It
was just sweet music to listen to that cough. I took
her jeweled hand in mine and asked her to be my
bride; but alas! in a fatal moment I learned that she
hadn't any money to go with her cough, and I had to
give her up. I lost her. O, I lost her!”
And then the hot scalding tears trickled through his
fingers and rolled down on his patent leather boots.
| Eli Perkins (at large) | |