The Wolfs Long Howl

The Wolf's Long Howl, by
Stanley Waterloo

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Title: The Wolf's Long Howl
Author: Stanley Waterloo
Release Date: December 5, 2003 [eBook #10391]
Language: English
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THE WOLF'S LONG HOWL

by Stanley Waterloo
1899

CONTENTS
THE WOLF'S LONG HOWL
AN ULM
THE HAIR OF THE DOG THAT BIT HIM
THE MAN WHO FELL IN LOVE
A TRAGEDY OF THE FOREST
THE PARASANGS
LOVE AND A TRIANGLE
AN EASTER ADMISSION
PROFESSOR MORGAN'S MOON
RED DOG'S SHOW WINDOW
MARKHAM'S EXPERIENCE
THE RED REVENGER
A MURDERER'S ACCOMPLICE
A MID-PACIFIC FOURTH
LOVE AND A LATCH-KEY
CHRISTMAS 200,000 B.C.

THE CHILD
THE BABY AND THE BEAR
AT THE GREEN TREE CLUB
THE RAIN-MAKER
WITHIN ONE LIFE'S SPAN

THE WOLF'S LONG HOWL
George Henry Harrison, though without living near kinfolk, had never
considered himself alone in the world. Up to the time when he became
thirty years of age he had always thought himself, when he thought of
the matter at all, as fortunate in the extent of his friendships. He was
acquainted with a great many people; he had a recognized social
standing, was somewhat cleverer than the average man, and his
instincts, while refined by education and experience, were decidedly
gregarious and toward hearty companionship. He should have been a
happy man, and had been one, in fact, up to the time when this
trustworthy account begins; but just now, despite his natural buoyancy
of spirit, he did not count himself among the blessed.
George Henry wanted to be at peace with all the world, and now there
were obstacles in the way. He did not delight in aggressiveness, yet
certain people were aggressive. In his club--which he felt he must soon
abandon--he received from all save a minority of the members a hearty
reception, and in his club he rather enjoyed himself for the hour,
forgetting that conditions were different outside. On the streets he met
men who bowed to him somewhat stiffly, and met others who
recognized him plainly enough, but who did not bow. The postman
brought daily a bunch of letters, addressed in various forms of stern
commercial handwriting to George Henry Harrison, but these often lay
unopened and neglected on his desk.
To tell the plain and unpleasant truth, George Henry Harrison had just

become a poor man, a desperately poor man, and already realized that it
was worse for a young man than an old one to rank among those who
have "seen better days." Even after his money had disappeared in what
had promised to be a good investment, he had for a time maintained his
place, because, unfortunately for all concerned, he had been enabled to
get credit; but there is an end to that sort of thing, and now, with his
credit gone after his money, he felt his particular world slipping from
him. He felt a change in himself, a certain on-creeping paralysis of his
social backbone. When practicable he avoided certain of his old friends,
for he could see too plainly written on their faces the fear that he was
about to request a trifling loan, though already his sense of honor, when
he considered his prospects, had forced him to cease asking favors of
the sort. There were faces which he had loved well which he could not
bear to see with the look of mingled commiseration and annoyance he
inspired.
And so it came that at this time George Henry Harrison was acquainted
chiefly with grief--with the wolf at his door. His mail, once blossoming
with messages of good-will and friendliness, became a desert of duns.
"Why is it," George Henry would occasionally ask himself--there was
no one else for him to talk to--"why is it that when a man is sure of his
meals every day he has endless invitations to dine out, but that when
those events are matters of uncertainty he gets not a bidding to the
feast?" This question, not a new one, baffling in its mystery and
chilling to the marrow, George Henry classed with another he had
heard somewhere: "Who is more happy: the hungry man who can get
nothing to eat, or the rich man with an overladen table who can eat
nothing?" The two problems ran together in his mind, like a couple of
hounds in leash, during many a long night