Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1877-06-21
NO. Jag.
''K.'

1t was in Schauss' think, that saw
during one Of my strolls two water-color
drawings-kitten subjects; one In full
risk. with troop OF yellow butterflies
driving over her, with that serio-comical
expression worn only by young animals.
children as we'll. The pendant of this was
Miss Kit sitting in contemplative atti-
tude, q few feathers scattered around her;
shs had eaten it up. There had not been
enough OF 1t; she was the image Of dejec-
ton. "k," was neatly scratched in the
corner OF the drawings. / believed them
bits OF autobiography, and bought them
from liking and sympathy. Besides they
were the work of woman.
1t was the latter part OF july and hotter
than any weather had ever experienced
in the garb of civilization. Heat in the
East has its compensations there were
none here. and made up my mind to get
out OF New York. But where should
gop | was just home from e long sojourn
In Europe, and had no inclination to travel
here. Relations l had none. My early
college friends were out of reach or lost
sight of. The one had expected to meet
me. JOY on her lips and In her eyes, was
jonrneying-where l had not yet found
out.
As I slowly mounted the stairs to my
room picked up an envelope addressed
In clear though feminine handwriting.
1t was individual; the small erect letters
reminded me of the German script. and
thought how prettily the writer would
form her German words. Turning 1t over.
queer enough there was tiny *" like
N flying insect, with blue kitten rushing
after II. tail up, paws on the slide. l Of
course thought OF the painter Of my pic
ture; II not that K, 1t ought to be. put
it in my pocket and tried to settle myself
to work. l was writing some papers
on the Bavarian Highlands. having spent
three summers there and had some un-
ing America again. To a man who likes
to DRIFT or pull a lazy oar this railing car
nival of work is dislracting.
As went TO supper my thoughts turned
to No. A. near which had found the TX
envelope. There had been recent ar
rival there-ladies; perhaps my artist was
among them. On being worried about
this, the clerk drew his pen suddenly
from behind his ear, as il it were weap-
on with which he intended TO spear me.
and mumbled something about "parties"
leaving on the noon-train for Greenwood
Lake.
watering place. this Greenwood
Lake."
Great fishing resort"
am fond of fishing: believe I'll go.
There seems no need to wait for letters
that can be forwarded-No, you are
wrong: had passed my salad days. and
had rather then. as now. wonder, dream
about possible divinity than take any
trouble to look her up. If she comes in
ones way. well. But If you cherish a
fancy and water it till it flowers, twenty
to one it's q scentless, colorless thing.
Besides. my future was already outlined.
But II people do not stay at home or
answer your notes, must you swelter In
the discomfort Of ninety degrees?
So started for Orange county, and con-
fess had no idea our country was so wild
and charming. The hotel was set in the
midst of hills, with the lake ripping in
front. 1t was comfortable place TO write
in and wait for news of my lady. Most
of the time passed in boat or 10 the
woods, hermit-tashion, but did not write
much. To one messy place, where the
| trees drew apart as il to let the wanderer
see the wondrous heights Of the hills and
| the quivering sheen of lake and sky, /
used often to come. The spot was some
times pre-occupied by confidential girls,
| who were good enough to retreat If they
saw me climbing upward. One day 1
came. perhaps Unexpectedly, for l heard
a futter Of drapery, caught q glimpse of
figure wrapped in blue. and heard. to
nv delight, u whispered "Kit!"
The cat painter. decided. as the rust
ling died away, indicating that she had
found the path. hoped she had dropped
something in her hurry. She had. A
sketch book lay on the crushed leaves
where she had been sitting. She mnst be
a needless person. l picked 1t up. 1t
was what artists call a block, in q green
cover. Papers were stuffed in the pock-
ct, and pencil was in the loop. Hooked
at the drawing. Pretty good artist feel
ing in the lines, and capital foliage. Wo-
men are generally wretched porlrayers of
a tree; their foliage is q series Of de-
tached rs. If this belongs TO the painter,
of course one expects better things. Ii
it is hers, she's not famous yet, Tor the
few celebrities have been pointed out 10
me. knew it would be easy enough to
find her; sketcher soon betrays herself;
so made no formal inquiry. and aban-
doned my nook in the woods as perhaps
sacred to dryads.
Rowing ON the lake the next morning,
/ caught u seductive glimpse OF blue in
the very spot l was making for. l am
near-sighted; II proved to be no lady,
but clump of purple asters. drew up
the boat, found u rock under an overshad-
owing umbrella tree. and prepared my
self tor a lounge. put my hand in my
pocket for Alferi; had lett 1t in my room.
There was nothing but the sketch-book,
with its plethOric portfolio. Bah shall
never find the owner. must while away
the time. Ipulled out the papers. There
was some writing. part of u journal or
letter. scrowly aud somewhat scratched,
like the first draught OF composition.
A moments hesitation, and my virtue
yielded TO the temptation. l read:
Ought / not TO be SOP Have not had
a deep experience in feelingP The sort
Of friendship you describe I'm afraid OF.
1t may be possible. Shall break my en-
gagement think 50, but distinctly un-
derstand that do not mean you to be af-
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