The Eaton Democrat. (Eaton, Ohio) 1875-1903, 1883-11-01

my GOWdru tuc ucaEcSL RAILWAY o1d1iohs
that 1 had no chance to look up
Eaton. Il remember that l told my
driver something about an artist, a
friend of mine who had turned up, who
seemed wrong in his mind and ought
to be looked after. l believe l wrote o
line to the anne effect to Gleason. ]
know l meant to do so. But the anxl-
Gus voyage and more anxious weeks in
Europe put all other thoughts from my
mind.
1t was after my fathers death late in
the fall that 1 sailed for home. Taking
up a paper that came out or the pilot
boat | saw the notice of the Salmagundi
exhibition. Coupled with it was al an
Eaton, who had died in q mad-house
but painstaking artist the review
prising that the only work he has left
of any strength should be now hung at
the black and white exhibition. This
sketch was made after his madness was
fairly upon him. This picture is in
grays, ~oddly-colored, but in compost
ton and drawing quite full of a certain
weird power. Not to be too funny at a
dead mans expense, this gives the
pool fellow a good send-off at any rate,
as a friend of his remarked the other
day. The picture, taken in connection
with the tragic death of the artist, has
created some little stir, more particu-
larly as the face in the sketch is strik-
ingly like that of young Boston beauty
who is making her debut inNew York"
So poor Eaton was dead, and his
picture-my picture-was a success,
and-Anita had lived in Boston when
| she was twelvei
[ hurried to the black and white
that very afternoon, and found quite
a group collected about my picture
Eaton's picture. I laughed somewhat
~nervously as 1 stood before it. Some
one behind me spoke. 1t was Gleason.
'You needn't laugh, man. l am glad
to see you back, by the way. There, is
some force in that, and 1 am glad for
poor Toms sake that he has left this
sketch behind him. 1 give you my
word [ had no idea he could do as well.
He couldn't have while he was n
Every one is surprised. How are your
You look pale. Have you come back
to stayP" etc., etc. 1 fingered around
for awhile, and found myself back
again and again before my picture
-Eaton's picture-the picture never to
be claimed as mine now. 1t CHANGED
1 had told the story to no one. There
had been no opportunity. Now, OF
course, | never must. As l stood look
ING at it, and somewhat moved per-
haps more by the remembrance of that
night than by anything actually before
my eyes,, two girls and an elderly wo-
man approached and stopped.
alt certainly is like her, mamma; L
wonder if she will see it herselfP 1t is
quite time she were here, by the by. She
promised to meet US at three, you
know"
81 don't think it does her JUSTICE"
replied the elder lady, after looking
through her glasses critically. "She is
a very beautiful creature, and this face
is less so," she ended rather indefi-
nitely, and with some hesitation in her
voice, so hat 1 fancied the picture
grew on as she looked, and that she
might yet reverse her decision.
The other girl spoke now. She had
a discerning face, as 1 could see, and
that long upper lip that goes with
sp~eech-faculty. sit is like she said,
''more like her soul than her body. 1t
is like the way she will look to her
guardian angel-or her lover" She
turned abruptly to greet some people
who were walking toward us.
/ was singularly excited. The mani
&C in the boat had no such paralyzing
| power over me as this potentiality in
a soft gray gown with a long gray
glove outstretched. My heart beat and
| the picture swan before my eyes, fol
this might be. might it not, Anita her
| self 1 heard a voice exclaim: "This is
the pictured" A lady in black with the
t gray girl began an apology: "We are
t late. AS usual, Signor Boldini ant
} some new music. Ali" interruptins
herself, sit is like-why, yes. very
5 Don't you think so yourselfp"-th'
: name at last, surely-but no-''don'
, you think so yourself, dear?"
, eyes, do tell us what you think
. Isn't she wierd? and car you look lik'
that?" cried the girls.
"Ah, the other men' said a new
voice, softly, a voice with a low thrill
3 in it. sit is like what I might have
been, I'm Some n told me onc'
: when 1 was q child, / remember, tina
l was like the moon. but having livet
Y eight years since then in a flood of sun
shine"-and the gray hand touched tn
black glove near hers, a grateful touch
t l felt sure-''why. | am not so mucf
like it now as l was"
ssIn spite of the smile that you al
e ways will and always won't smile out
right. That is in the face in the moon
too. you see. Did you ever meet Mr.
e Eaton?" 'r
y ..And do you think the girl yer,
beautiful, and very like a maniac
dfeam?" broke in the shorter girl. sd
e tell us, Anita"
So then it was Anita. l turned, AM
c as 1 walked away faced the blue-gra
eyes, like v~iolets, and the hair lik,
shaded moonbeams, and the smile. No
u the little twelve-year-old Anita this, bu
y a beautiful, sunny creature, with tn
other Anita somehow suggested, an
d yet not there. This one more of tn
world, with a SaUoir- fdirc lying over tn
C moonshine. 1 had meant. if it were she
to speak to her at once and boldly. AS
a was, | simply gazed, and when he
eyes met mine fearit was |, not she, VIII
blushed. But she recognized me. M
L identity was all in my face, I am sure
1 saw a puzzled look in her eyes, and
seized my chance. 1 bowed; 1 spoke
Years ago you knew me, Miss Gray
Z son, when | was d boy in Boston, an
when you were like the NOON"
was presented to the aunt in. black
~ My father had been one of the oil
3 family friends. So in a few moments
was talking like an old friend myselt
Mrs. Grayson touched on my recer
" loss, and then, as [ turned to leave
y said:
ri II should be glad to know you
fathers son. Can you dine with us o
Sunday next9"
So the golden gates were opened flo
2 me, and Sundays came and Sunday
- went and'I was fathoms deep in fuv,
"a / could not paint, l could not talk.
heard a great deal of music and I SUI
p~Ose-alack and alas!-read poetry