The Stark County Democrat. [volume] (Canton, Ohio) 1833-1912, 1874-10-15

! everybody else suueI ,
Perhaps these dainty and vernal
thoughts, clustering as they do about the
McGinnisses and my Bohemian bed
room. have been set buzzing like honey
ed bees in my brain by that beautiful
play of ''The Sphinx" And it is beauti-
full. isn't it?
suppose it was that scene in which
De iSaUiqrlg seizes the wretched woman
Blanche by the arm and threatens TO
throw her in the lake to prevent her
from doing any more mischief that re-
minded me of the McGinnisses.
seemrd to be back in my old Bohe-
mian quarters as looked at the desper-
ate man pulling the poor creature about.
When he caught her by the hair, and
vowed by heaven 10 fling her into the
water, tears started to her eyes; they
were tears of Joy supernal, for then she
knew he loved her. 1t seemed to me, l
say, that all this was coming up the old
back chimney along with the smell OF
cabbage and whisky, and that could
hear the elfn tinkle of the hand-organ
round the corner at the butchers, and all
the air was heavy with the odor OF the
ailanthus.
So strong was the illusion upon me
that actually thought De SaUigny had a
table-leg under his coat, and that if he
would only kick Blanche her happiness
would mount into ecstacy.
Strange, subtle necromancy OF the
mind thus to weave the present into the
past, and out of the French crystal to
raise me these phantoms Of once joyous
reality.
You know how it is-a little Whit of
heliotrope in a murky room, and away
you 90 back to the day you leaned on the
garden gate and talked to the dear girl
| in blue dress, but who wore the sum
mer days in her glad face.
Just so Morris has waited me with her
French fan, as lightly as thistle-down,
over the years, and landed me in the
Aowery meads of asphodel in Perkins
row.
Those were blithe days, believe me.
Did | not worship with heart full OF
idolatry the French milliner who lived
on the first floor, and who was always
wont to rush out into the hallway to see
where the wind came from, or if her dear
little Feedo had run away, whenever she
heard me coming in, and who blushed
very red and hung hereyelids they were
long dropping lids, with fringes like the
ella of stag beetle) when she saw me?
Shall ever forget the look of radiant JOY
with which she once bounced out when
l was stealthily (so thought) bringing
in my crackers and cheese and bottle OF
Bass's ale, tied up so as to look like roll
of manuscript? How she struggled to
conceal her disappointment when she
found it was not a sometink for her, eh,
and how my heart bled for her after that
the poor little dear, with nobody to bring
her sometink and how | commenced
modestly with ten-cent nOsegays, and
gaining strength with her smiles, mount
ed to twenty-five cent soap, and then,
taking bolder flight, rose to Lubin'sex-
tracts, and finally scared recklessly into
the illimitable space of French contec-
tionery and cheap jewelry
suppose it was purely Bohemian
illusion, but coddled it in those days;
lying there in my smoking-jacket, listen
ening to the young McGinniss on the
awning, and picturing my French milli-
ner stepping out of her coach with proud
and dainty air, the crowd falling back
and the little boys holding their breath,
and the shrewd people saying in whis-
pers, Mrs. Crinkle, the peerless peri of
the period, or giving expression to some
other natural and alternative form Of adj
miration.
Then what pangs of suspicion when |
saw her, as | looked over the balusters,
rush out and drop her fringed lids and
blush when Dick Wing came What ar
rowy agony shot through me when |
found out that Tom Darling, who had
the fourth floor back, was buying ten
cent nOsegays regularly, and that Char
ley AlcOtt (poor fellow, he's dead and
gone now had actually reached the stage
of scented soapl
By what 9hit9tfierism / know not, the
dear creature managed-uO convey to me
through flbr'dF6ping lids sly intima-
ton that confectionery was liable to be-
come monOtonous. / think she said it
was "played out" Dream caramels /
had 10 acknowledge in the recesses Of
my heart, no longer called the blood 10
her cheek. think l tried boxes of sar-
dimes for nearly week with only slight
improvement. Sardines did not touch
her deeply-and they were fifty cents a
box. To stir the emotional nature of
this angel, said, requires the ingenuity
of manager and the exchequer of a
Rothschild.
Then experimental with geraniums
in pots, with beautiful little bisque Gu
pids, with bananas, with oysters in sweet
little paper boxes. Alas! what stream
of delicacies, of Neufchatel cheese and
tortoise-shell combs and monogram pa
per poured at her feet Apd all the
while l was building her marble palace
in the air. 1t was some satisfaction to
know that Dick Wing and the rest Of
them we're torturing their brains in the
same wav. II was with devilish JOY that
| learned that Tom Darling had tried a
papier-mache clock and had not found
peace. and that Charley Alcott had en-
deaYored to purchase smile with poma-
tum and had failed. Tom, however, who
had a brilliant ntimagination opened new
vein. He, it was that discovered that
the road to her heart lay through silk
dresses and champagne suppers.
What triumph was his in that hall.
way when he gave her the first bundle
and she, tearing off the paper wrapper
exclaimed, mon Dieu! am yours, take
me p and then leaned, gasping with emo
ton, againsl the greasy wall paper, and
Tom had to lead her in to her old moth.
er and fan her and give her brandy and
water.
Why, ! ask you, should 'The Sphinx
recall all these old memories-remind
me how the strong, impulsive nature o.
that dear Qirl led her to expect presents