River Falls journal. [volume] (River Falls, Pierce County, Wis.) 1872-2019, 1875-01-01
TOLD AT NlGATEALL.
From Peterson's Journal Of Popular Liter
ature

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 wood,
now lurid in the red setting sun. Be
meath leaden sky the gloomy Cam
pagna stretched like dead sea. -and
with its far rim cut the disc, POI ten
tous blood.red ball, slowly, slowly sink
ing.
Guy and | had been old friends and
school-fellows in England. lie 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, | had looked Oh Guy
as kind of genial young saint. 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 o wrong thought.
He would have chosen art as his pro.
fession, knew, had he been allowed a
voice in the arrangement of his own
future; but the bilious old father who
ruled his destiny made a civil engineer
of him, without the slightest reference
to any possible fancy or protest of the
lads. Naturally, he did not take kind.
ly to his work, though he buckled to il
conscientiously.
When came to Italy TO study art,
Guy and | kept up pretty brisk cor.
respondence for about twelvemonth.
But in my second Italian summer his
letters suddenly ceased to arrive. |
wrote to him in vain hope Of answer
for six menths, and 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 fight across the sea
one winter ana perched in Rome. "GOt
into a scrape about woman, and didn't
behave we'll to her, or something of
that Sort" drawled out one of these
amiabie gentlemen. And this was all
! could discover about poor Urquehart.
But at last heard from Guy him.
self once more. Lo! he had inherited
a small fortune from distant relation;
he had thrown civil engineering over
board he was coming to Rome forth.
with to study art in earnest at last,
and we must spend the ensuing sum-
ner in Villegiatura together, eating
figs at Tusculum. At the time my
story begins he had been about six
weeks in Rome, and had already paint.
ed one or two capital little pictures.
No village in the world drives such
roaring trade in scandal as grand old
Rome. You have seen how Urquehart'
character went before him, as Sir Peter
Teazle's stayed 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 like pebbles through disturb
ing waves. | felt convinced that |
should do so in. Urquehart's case, if it
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 a shut and locked door, be.
hind which lurked the solution Of
mystery. This mystery was the great
and grievous change in my friend, not
to be accounted for by the mere lapse
of two or three years. And this change
was al. the more remarkable that it was
not always obvious. No two men could
be more unlike than Urquehart to
U-quehart in different moods. II
seemed to me as much evil had flowed
into his heart by some rent where much
good had run out, but that the poison
had never mixed with the healthy juice
Of his life.
On this September evening, as we sat
together, Guy had been muttering some
very bad sentiments, which would have
grieved me more if had not attributed
them in part to some unripc peaches
and the state Of his stomach.
"Guy," said !, suddenly, "l've found
q key to much that makes people gasp
and stare at YOU"
"what do you mean o. returned he,
rather roughly.
"Most persons, went on, "are hall
angel, half-devil, they say. But your
angel and devil seem to share their
lodging on the most curious terms Of
mutual forbearance. They seem to
take you turn and turn about, in
watches, as it were. Your angel never
torments your devil, or interleres with
his mode of enjoying himself, his Wal.
purgis nights with his man; and your
devil. with equal politeness, never in.
trudes himself on the angelical prayer.
meetings. They could not possibly
come in contact without disturbing the
harmony of the system but they seem
to agree to differ, like certain polite
married couples"
Urquehart took his pipe from his
mouth, and blew out long smoke
wreath. Then he leaned head and
shoulders out Of he window, and
stared far away at the sun, now like
ciot Of blood on the liyid horizon, till
even that crimson speck was absorbed.
Then he brought himself back TO his
former position in corner Of the rick
ETY. old sofa, and from that dusky cor.
ner spake.
"You hooked fine fat fish there,
my young friend, with your moral.crit.
ical line. Your sagacity really deserves
patting for having snapped up such a
-