The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1878-06-01
THE PRESS.
From Harper's Weekyl.l
That Voice !!
The Photograph and Other Kings i'm the
2Oth Century.

early summer days the world ever beheld-a
cloudless sky, golden-bright sunshine, soft
fragrant air, joyously sweet songs OF birds,
faint musical murmurs OF brooks and splash
ings of fountains, delicately green grass, lin
gering violets and budding roses.
On the lawn in front OF the elegant man
sion of Leon Fishback, Esq.,, party of young
people are playing Follow follow-follow-
"a game somewhat resembling $50 their
mothers and grandmothers told them) an old
game called "Puss in the corner" played a
quarter OF century or. more ago, only ia
"Follow-follow" the players instead of beck
oning to each other beckon to group of
metallic balls, around which they stand in
circle, and he or she who proves to have most
magnetic force the balls follow with rush,
while the remainder of the players rush as
wildly in their efforts to secure the place left
vacant by the flying one.
AT this moment the balls are rolling pell-
NELL, helter'sketer, knocking against each
other with pleasant ringing sound, after a
pretty, fair haired maiden whose little feet,
clad in slippers all cleaning with silver and
gold flash in the sunshine beneath her blue
satin Turkish trouserlets as she springs light
ly over the green sward amid the exquisitely
modulated laughter-no one shouts loudly in
this refined twentieth century-of her merry
companions.
In the back garden, on a green cIove-sweet
newly washed linen, and a hanging-out ma
chine planted firmly in,the middle of the plat
is industriously raising and lowering its long
wooden arms, grasping the various pieces in
its wonderfully constructed hands and hang
ing them upon the stout no.clothes-pins line,
which is slowly revolving around it and to
which they adhere without farther trouble.
In the dairy the rosy checked dairy maid
is reading love poem while the auto
matte mixer is milking the beautiful white
COW that stands just outside the door; in the
kitchen the cook is indolently rocking to and
fro in low rocking chair, watching the
magic rolling pin" roll out the paste for her
pies, ready to stop its pendulum.like move.
ment the moment the crust is smooth and
thin enough; and small servant boy with
his hands in his pockets lounges against the
wall in one corner, near tall stool, whistling
softly to himself as he waits until the pair of
shoes the electric backing brush is polishing
attain the proper degree of brilliancy and
mirror likeness.
This is a prosperous place, this domain of
Leon Flshbeck, Esq, and Leon Fishback
himself is tall, handsome, energetic, positive
man of one-and-thirty-a bachelor who gives
home to his widowed sister and her four
halforphaned children, and in return is taken
care of by her, with the assistance of the old
housekeeper-to tell the truth, with great
deal of assistance from the old housekeeper-
as well as any brother ever was taken care of
by any sister.
Still,people,a as people will-especially people
with grown up single daughters, wondered that
he had never married. 1t was not for want
of opportunity he had not done so--oh, no
indeed flor dozen lovely girls, half dozen
more or less charming widows, and several
ladies OF neither class, had since his coming
into the property of his uncle and godfather,
Leon Ffshbeck, Sen., Whose ashes in solid
gold casket stood in sort of shrine made of
hundred rare woods, in the south drawing
room intimated to him in every way that the
shrinking sensitiveness of womanhood would
allow, their perfect willingnes-nay, anxiety
to assume the role CT mistress of the Fish
beck mansion.
But Leon had walked calmly among them,
dispensing hospitality, kind words and gra-
cious smiles with the strictest impartiality,
distinguishing none by the slightest prefer
ence, until few weeks before this beautiful
June day when his young guests merrily
called, 'Follow, follow, follow me" to their
highly polished admirers on the closely shaven
lawn.
Then came to visit his sister an old school
friend, Laura Beardsley by name, who had
been residing in far distant State, but with
whom the sister had kept up a warm cores
pondence ever since they parted at the col
lege door the day on which each was publicly
hailed with loud acclamations as "Mistress of
Arts.o
Miss Beardsley is lovely woman of eight
and-twenty summers, looking at least five
summers less, with an exceptionally sweet
voice, an exceptionally bright smile, an ex-
ceptionally graceful figure, and exceptionally
winning ways. And to this bewtching
woman has Leon Fishback, the hitherto APP
parently unimpressible bachelor, devoted
himself since the moment he took her slen-
l;+tIo I'll md bod 10,
his home. And it is by her side he loiters,
interrupted by the merriment without, in the
deep, pleasant, vine-enwreathed bay window
of the library as the fair-haired girl comes fly
ing across the garden pursued by the tinkling
balls.
Laura starts from her seat with blush,
and, leaning from the window, entreats,
Soak them away, Bella, dear. They are
dancing on the flower-bed." And as the
girl obediently turns and speeds in the oppo-
site direction, she draws back her pretty
head, and, looking at her companion, says,
chow much Bella is like her sister Teresa
that is, when Teresa was only sixteenth
SIS she ?" asks Mr.. Fishback.
"Why, don't yeu remember?" says the
lady.
ii do not" replies Mr.. Fishback, with en-
phasis.
Miss Laura makes two interrogation points
of her sllken eyebrows, opens her mouth to
speak, thinks better of it, closes her red lips
firmly, and turns to the window again as the
Observation-Disclosures stop playing and
gather In group, with their eyes fixed upon
small aerial car, gaiy decorated with flags,
which is gently swaying between heaven and
earth, as it slowly descends toward the lawn.
In few moments it touches the ground, and
handsome young fellow leaps out and is
greeted with many EXPLANATIONS OF pleasure
and surprise.
''Your brother Reginald" says Miss Boards.
ley. $50 soon returned from London? Why
he only started a few days ago."
eyes; flying ship American Eagle-fastest
of the Air Line. heard of her arrival just
after breakfast this morning, when it was
shouted by the telephone at the station be-
low"
Thirty miles awayr'
''Oh! that's nothing. We expect to be able
to hear news from hundred miles away be-
fore many years are past"
'May not be in the immediate vicinity
when that news is shoutedW says the lady,
with an involuntary movement of her pretty
white hands toward her pretty rose-tipped
ears, "for should expect to be deaf for ever
more.'
''Never fear, my dear-I mean Miss Boards
ley. Such misfortune as that shall never
occur, even though you should chance to be
at the very side of the shouter. Edison is at
THIS moment perfectlng an instrument that
begins to deliver its messages in a moderately
loud voice, which increases in volume as it is
carried forward, until it reaches the most dis
point it is intended to reach, thus maintain
ing an even tone all along the route. How
glorious all these Edisonian inventions arep'
he continues, with glow of enthusiasm,
sand what humdrum times our ancestors
must have had without them! Why they
are the very life of the age. There's the
phonograph, for instance-but beg pardon !;
you are looking bored. cannot expect you
to take as much interest in these scientific
subjects as do. Is not Reginald coming
this way?"
'.He is not" answers Miss Laura, demure-
ly; she is still holding Bella's hand, and to-
tally ignoring all other welcoming hands ex-
tended to him."
"'Ah! the old, old story that is ever newp"
quotes Mr.. Fshback, as he peeps over the
shoulder of his fair guest at the new arrival;
and then, suddenly rising and confronting
her, he exclaims, ''You must have heard that
story very, very often, Laura-forgive my
calling you so, but you used to permit it in
the days we went blackberrying together