The anti-monopolist. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1874-1878, 1874-12-31
TOLD AT hIGATfAll.

From Peterson's Journal Of Popular Liter
1t was a stormy September evening.
Guy Urquehart and my respected self
Charles livingstone, painter-were sit
ting in the studio-window of his delight
full little villa at Frascati, near Rome,
high over the rounded tops Of woods
now lurid in the red setting sun. Be-
meath a leaden sky the gloomy Cam
pagna stretched like dead sea. and
with it's far rim cut the disc, porten-
tous bloodred ball, slowly, slowly sink
ing.
Guy and I had been old friends and
school fellows in England. He was two
or three years older than myself, but
that had made his friendship for me all
the tenderer, and mine for him rever-
entail. Besides, l had looked Oh Guy
as kind of genial young saint. l had
always felt rather wicked in his COM
pany, because he really seemed, quite
| naturally, never to do anything wrong,
or to have so much as wrong thought.
| Ho would have chosen art as his pro-
fession, l knew, had he been allowed a
| voice in the arrangement of his own
future; but the bilious old father who
ruled his destiny made civil engineer
of him, without the slightest reference
to any possible fancy or protest Of the
lads. Naturally, he did not take kind
" to his work, though he buckled to il
conscientiously.
When came to Italy to study ART,
Cry and kept up pretty brisk cor
respondence for about a twelyemOnth.
But in my second Italian summer his
letters suddenly ceased to arrive. l
wrote to him in vain hope Of answer
for six msnths, AID then let the CORES.
pondence 60 with sigh.
easily ascertained that he was
alive and well, but could find out moth
ing else about him that was more reli-
able than the gossip retailed out by
certain English military men, who had
tapped their lazy flight across the sea
one winter ana pcrched in Rome. SCOT
into = scrape about woman, and didn't
behave well to her, or something Of
that Sort" drawled out one of these
amiabse gentlemen. And this was all
l could discover about poor Urquehart.
But 1T last heard from Guy him
self once more. Lo! re had inherited
small fortune from q distant relation:
he had thrown civil engineering over
board he was coming to Rome forth
with % study art in earnest at last,
and We must spend the ensuing sum
mcr in Villegiatura together. eating
L t,vS T..
story begins he had been about six
weeks in Rome, and had already paint
ed one or two capital li,tle pictures.
No village in the world drives such
roaring trads IN scandal as grand old
Rome. You nave seen how Urquehart' 8
character went before him, as Sir Peter
Teazle's stayea behind. for the comfort
of the community. and what mercy it
met with. Now. when circumstances
are served up in this mixed way. there
are generally certain facts which one
may trace ike pebbles through disturb
ing waves felt convinced that Il
should do 50 in Urquehsrt's case, if il
ever pleased him to give me his conf
dence.
But could not try to thrust into any
chamber Of his past not freely opened
to me- | could not help guessing that
there Was shut and locked door, BE-
hind which lurked the solution or .
. mystery. This mystery WAS the great
and grievoas change in my friad, noti
to be accounted for by the NEE lapse
Of two or three years. And thsehange
. was q. the more remarkable tf1t it W.
f not always obvious. No two M could |
, be more unlike than UrquAart = |
urqueAart IN different mods. I'll
seemed to me e if much evil hdaowedl
e into HE hsart By some rent VIII = much
good had nm cat. but tina, tn poison
: had neva mixsd with the he.lh1 Juice
Of his LIE.