Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1878-11-09
Gales and Sketfhes.
STORY OF AN INKSfAND.

"That nkstandp Yes, it has story. I
may as well tell it to you now as any other
time, suppose. You ought TO be called the
Great American History Extractor, or Ro-
nance Extractor, for if there is particle Of
romance in anything or anybody in place
where you happen to be, you are sure TO
scent it out"
"Of all days this is the most glorious one
for romance-the rain failing with that
steady, monotonous drip, drip, drip not .
soul In the house but ourselves, and We %
snug in this splendid old library"
Mag Hastings was indeed an indefatigable
romance hunter. She was always looking
for situations where the romantic predomi-
mated. She would have succeeded - drs-
matist, without doubt. She was apparent
ly as happy as mortal could be on the morn
ing in question, nestled in the depths Of my
scarlet lounge, perfectly certain that she
looked picturesque in her dark green street
suit, relieved by the daintiest linen.
Come here, pet 7" said she and q bunch
of white wool, with blue ribbon tied at one
end it, marking spot wherein dogs neck
would be, trotted mysteriously towards her.
What propelling power there could be in the
shaggy thing was a wonder never could get
over but somehow it managed to spring into
Mag's arms. and then the silence assured me
that my story was expected.
The surroundings were favorable for story
feeling, it is true. The room heavily wsins-
coated with dark wood, the cases Of books of
all times and of all varieties, the long win
dows richly dIaped with scarlet brocads,
lined with exquisite lace, the thick, soft mot
tied green, the Turkish lounges, the quaint
chairs, luxuriously upholstered, the bronzes
on the mantel and in inches and corners
bronzes that told old stories of mythology, the
epgravings on the wall, the little gems in oil
selected for their wonderful coloring--an au-
tumn scene, burning ship, group of Ger
man peasants; the glowing FIRE Of sea coal,
and the polished hearth and tender-all ap-
pealed to the love Of the beautiful and the
picturesque, while the cold, unceasing rain,
the bare, gaunt trees, the dripping shrub
berry, and the blanched grass drove the
| thoughts within for solace and amusement
The inkstand that Mag Hastings referred
to was pretty affair in Swiss carving. 1t
represented two little peasants carrying wa
| ter, the buckets suspended from a pole rest
| ing in the hand OF each. Of course the
water pals were the ink receptacles, and
| the pole was the pen rack. 1t was poetic
and realistic at the same time, and as pretty .
trihe for library table as one would wish to
see.
1.-The story lisa sad one, Mag" said l. at
will give you the blues for the rest ofthe day."
80 much the BETTER" she answered, with
true dramatic love of the horrible-"so
much the better. I'd like to be stirred up .
little fear I'm too comfortable. A little dash
of imaginative sorrow is needed to relieve this
perfect enjoyment. A little shade throws out
the good points OF anything, you know. Isn't
it SO. petp" and she pinched the little ap-
pendage dignifed by the name of tail till q
sharp yelp came out of the soft white man in
her arms. "There. told you 50, pet now
you'll know what true repose is. )"
81 should scold you, Mag" said I, "if It
were of the least use in the world. But
you are incorrigble 90 will 90 on. Tine
will give you shadow enough, without
doubt"
"When was in Venice comr enced.
"Venice :" exclaimed Mag, sitting bolt up-
right, and giving the little dumpling Of .
poodle pinch that brought out most spite-
ful yelp, "When were you in venicep"
''Why, you know, Mag, that was abroad
more than two years. In fact had Just rs.
turned when you and became acquaintsd,v
replied, wondering little at the unusual
tContiausd oa fourth pagsj