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TJIE GEORGIAN’S NEWS BRIEFS.
THE MAN WHO MIGHT HAVE BEEN
By J. MORTON LEWIS.
He was a new member of the club,
and a source of much comment and
speculation to the confraternity.
From his personal appearance, which
was of that type which Is so common
place as to betray nothing, he might
have been a stock broker, a respectable
merchant, a money lender, or even a
bookmaker. From a close acquaintance,
( should gather, he Imagined himself to
»e a humorist. It was on our third or
fourth meeting—I forget which—that 1
formulated this opinion.
“Yes,** he said to me over a glass of
whisky and soda, ”1 could call myself,
( think, the man who might have been.
I might have been anything, and am—'*
He left the sentence unfinished and
shrugged his shoulders.
I hastened to express my sympathy,
which he ignored.
"It commenced with my birth. I might
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have been bom a clrl. Now 1 should
like to have been bom a fflrl. but I
wasn't" He paused. “And the con
founded bad fortune has attended me
right thru my life.
‘'When I went to school It was the
wish of my heart to excel at sport. I
longed to hear the clapping that would
announce I had made a home, run at
baseball. I might easily have been a
good player. Why couldn't I? Some
fellows are.” He lit a cigar. “But 1
wasn’t.
“When I left school and went Into
business, the ill-luck dogged my foot
steps. I might easily have been a
grocer. I should have loved to weigh
up pounds of sugar and read the poets
during the operation, as Keats did In
his early days; but 1 wasn’t. 1 might
have been a doctor; my lather wanted
me to; but I wasn't”
1 watched him closely thru the smoke
of our cigars. The reiteration of his
remarks began to perturb me, and DU
my mind with grave doubts and misgiv
ings.
As It was, I became a lawyer. I
spent no end of time and money study
ing for my exams; and. when 1 hod
passed them, sst up for myself.
"After all that, I might have been
content to stay at it and mage a name
for myself; but I wasn't I went and
Joined the theatrical profession. There
I might have been a great actor; but 1
wasn't; at least I haven’t made a
content to stay at it and make a name
Fate's against me."
“At any rate,” I said, consolingly,
“that Is better than a good many men."
‘I know I ought to have been thank
ful,'' he responded; “but I wasn't" He
pogred out another glass of whisky and
water. "You don't know what a failure
I feel myself to be," be said with can
dor.
"You certainly don’t look ono,’*I mur.
mured hastily.
He brought his hand down upon the
table; "Never Judge by looks, dear boy.
There, again, I might have been a
handsome man, but I wasn’t”
"You’re certainly not the opposite,” 1
said, with, I am afraid, a very poor at
tempt at politeness.
"Quite so,” he returned, "1 might
have been a regular Caliban, but I
wasn’t"
I coughed uneasily. I am by nature
a somewhat nervous man. and the sus
picions I had formed regarding my
companion were beginning to take a
very concrete form.
"You don't know what It is to feel
you might have been everything, any
thing nothing, and yet you weren't."
For a few minutes there was silence,
which I was extremely careful not to
break.
"When I was twenty,” he said medi
tatively. “I fell In love. Not In the
stodgy, prosy way that some men do,
but head over heels—madly, wildly, !n-
toxlcatlngly, passionately In love with
a girl a year my Junior. She returned
my affection and we had our parents'
consent to our engagement 1 could
easily have been her husband—had only
to make the home—but I wasn't"
"Perhaps It Isn't too late," I urged
soothingly.
-It wasn't” he replied passively.
How I hated that word. "But It 1«
now. I marrlrd somebody else. From
her appearance It might have been the
girl’s sister—they were alike as could
be—but It wasn't”
"Funny thing, too,” he resumed, “she
married a few days after a fellow old
enough to be her father; exactly like
him. too. that's the remarkable part
but It wasn't”
“I suppose not" 1 replied acridly.
Beneath his gaxe I began to Odget in
my chair, and cast anxious glances
toward the door. "Poor girl,” I said
wildly; "perhaps she was broken-heart
ed and that Is why she married him.”
He shrugged his shoulders. "She
might have been,” then he looked at me
tie and fling It at his head filled me,
and It was only after the utmost effort
that I restrained myself.
“It has become a habit with you.” I
said. In ascalm a voice as possible.
"So I thought once,” he answered, de
spondently; "but It wasn't. I went to
see a doctor about it, and he said It was
my liver.”
"Was It?" I asked. I was a fool to
moke such a silly remark, and I knew
It a second later.
“No. It wasn't.”
"If I bad got Into the state you have
—It's all a question of nerves; most
probably you’ve been working too hard
and want a rest—I should think of all
the things I am and have been.”
“That's useless.” he replied. "I've
tried it; Only the other week I woke up
In the middle of the night; you are
you, I told myself; you must be you;
you can’t be anyone else, and I pinched
myself as hard as 1 could to make
•■ire.
"Well!” I said.
- "It wasn’t” he replied, forlornly. "It
was my. wife I had pinched, and didn't
I catch it for waking her up! Three
hours of it without a break.”
Feeling I could stand no more.
"Must you go?” he asked. "Thanks
so much for listening to me. I was a
fool.”
My anger was aroused. I was begin
ning to feel he has been trying to
sharpen hiff clumsy wits at my expense.
"I'm not surprised," I retorted as I
made for the door.
"But I wasn't,” he called after me,
with a deep chuckle, os I fled into the
passage.
. m Feminine.
(Youngstown Telegram.)
A local Ironworker who had been mar
ried a couple of years always declared
that his first son .should be named Mat.
after -ona of his beat friends.
Learning that the Ironworker and his
wife had recently been blessed with a
charming baby, the friend smiled all over
hts face when he greeted the father on
the street.
"Well," he beamed, "how Is little Mat?"
"Mat nothing.” answered the father,
"It's Mattress."
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with a seraphic smile, "but she wasn’t.'
-It Is extraordinary* how that rule ap
plies to my life," he went on; “every
thing conld easily have turned out the
exact opposite to what It has done, but
it hasn’t."
-That Is the same in every man's
life,” I replied.
He shook his head. "Pardon me, that
where you are wrong. There was a
fellow who tried to argue the same
thing to me not so long ago. He was
absolutely certain he was right, but he
wasn’t."
He handed his cigar case over to me.
It seems to be fatal to me. Now. that
cigar you have just taken might easily
have been the next one. but it wasn’t.'
Perhaps, seeing the look of conster
nation on ray face, he continued: “That
Is only to show you how it applies even
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to the smallest Incidents of my life.'
He sighed heavily. "It is the same
everywhere I go. If I visit a theater
and see an actor make a great hit in
some part, 1 realise Its fatality. That
might have been you.' I say to myself
as 1 walk home, 'but It wasn't.'"
I was getting desperate. "You should
use that same reasoning to everything
you see and hear," I advised, "and when
you read of a man drowning himself
you should think that might have been
me, but it wasn't."
He smiled pensively and shook his
head. “Thanks, dear boy, but It's no
use. I thought once that might have
been some help to me, but It wasn't. 1
1 tried to put myself In the place of the
suicide, hut all I could think of was:
If 1 had been there I might have saved
him, but I wasn't,”
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