Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1879-12-27
NO. 300.

tnrn back. and reached the end of the
row before the carriage 1t was clear
that the placid charoteer had no intention
of stopping where some great ladies had
pnlled up their ponies by the way. He
dropped his whip across his animals they
sprang forward. and as they sprang saw
for moment the face of the lady. 1t was
the face of the whilom Margaret, the
daughter of the old gentleman. was
tired. ont of humor with the unrecognized
loveliness of the day; | found that one of
my boots hurt me. remembered a stu
pid call which ! was bound to make /
held up my stick to a corner for fear of
draughts (after all, this early summer
weather is neutrality-suspicious. all wealth
er is neutrality-suspicious. all things are
treacherous, and all people,) and so went
home.
For some years past the duties OF that
office which is to be the making of me,
and which necessitate some travel, have
taken up so much of my time that / have
made little use of my power of nice OBJ
servation. Noses have passed me unob-
served. Perhaps for that reason the i'm
ages of traits noted in my idle period re-
main no jot less clear in my memory.
often coniured up the figure of the old
gentleman with his tricks of hand, his stiff
but tremendous aversion of the head and
eyes, the conflicting lines Of his face. OF
the man ! saw nothing for years. was
busy with my new duties, went but little
to any club, and never to the park at
fashionable hour. lest should be still writ
in the list of the unemployed. l once
asked Tom Bolivar if he knew anything Of
our common friend. Tom instantly be-
came denunciatory but mysterious. He
exploded into hot and angry words, which
quickly descended into muttering. am
never sure how much Tom knows. He
seems to know everything-he seems
never to admit the possibility of incom-
plete knowledge of anything-and yet at
times find myself doubling if he be any
thing better than blatant and buffle-head-
ed fellow. l could not tell how much he
knew about the old gentleman; if ne knew
anything about him, it was clearly some-
thing TO his disadvantage.
Much occupied with the duties of my
office, launched on so desirable stream
ofthe political gation-system, ambitious
Of further successes, was slowly losing
the habit of recalling the old gentleman to
mind, when saw him again. l shall see
him no more. Only few weeks have
passed since our meeting. It was in the
morning, for had taken holiday.
rarely indulge myself with holiday; but
it was a slack time with us, and the supply
of samplers at the central office, where
was working at the moment, was unusual
ly small. Let me confess my weakness;
treated myself to walk in the park. 1t
was late in May; summer had stolen upon
us, capricious, in short-lived beauty;
fresh green was everywhere. and the grass
where it was allowedto grow was rich and
yellow with buttercups After noon it was
almost too hot; my pace fell to crawl;
my mind, relieved from the cares of office,
began to resume its old habits; / noted
little turns of the head, nervous laughs
and coughs, tricks which philosophical
friend ascribes to our insular shyness.
Tom Bolivar is not shy. While was
musing he came and seized me by the
arm. | should have liked to shake N.Y.
self free of him, but | have not enough
strength of mind to hurt anybody's feel
ings, Tom is not nice in the park. He is
little rough i'm dress and manner, rather
loud of voice, and fond of being looked at.
| suppose that he is a fine-looking fellow;
he is certainly big. lie is burly, and heavy
for Young man. He has broad nose
and a rough. reddish skin, in which the
color is fixed. and suggestive of the regu-
lar but moderate consumption Of alcohol;
the bloom of youth has been succeeded by
the blossom. People look at him askance,
and he takes it for admiration. do not
like to walk with him in the park.
IL say, look there :" cried Tom, with un-
if it were pint-pot-"look at that old
blazer" looked, and started. There
was something familiar in the extraordi-
nary figure. 1t was certainly exrraordi-
nary. There were pair of Hessian boots,
which were so old. andhad been so rubbed
aud polished. that should have thought
them but polish and tassels if boots could
stand without leather. Was it possible
that vanity prompted the display of those
shrunken limbs? As my eye passed up
stirred faint memories OF gentlemen with
long whips in unsuccessful circuses. 1t
was magnitcently frogged. but obviously
thin. 1t had been blue all over, but was
now very white in parts. 1t was so tight
that methought the poor old buttons were
one and all frenZied in the struggle for ex-
lslence ttcIl lfic huiiS VII tHIcdu. Souiu
il be that the cause OF this display Of the
broad-like form was vanity? The hat was
not in harmony with the remainder Of the
costume. The garments were the gar
ments of the romantic of KotAebue. The
hat was the reckless. mysterious sombrero
of the Mexican of Captain Mayne Reid.
Redolent of the prairie was the handker-
chief, loosely knotted about the white
scanned throat l looked earnestly
at the face, but it was not familiar. He
does this every day." said Tom, showing
me towards this eccentric cavalier. Ibid
you ever see such a gay old guyp" Tom
spoke in his horase whisper, which seems
ia have the effect of a telephone. l was
uncomfortable. and pushed on without
second look. Yet l saw nothing else.
The figure haunted me. Ipaid no atten-
ton to Toms remarks on fashionable folk
nor even to his emphatic nudges. My
memory was fitting from place to place.
from epoch to epoch of my career. On .
sudden it lit upon the old gentleman. Why
should think of him? This cavalier Of
the park, for all his shrunken limbs, was
! ..u,,r..,. xla,, that x-opor<n1,l-s