The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1884-10-30
The Story of a Humorist.

Williamstown, where Williams coli
lege is situated, lies snugly nestled IN
among the cluster OF purple giants
known as the Berkshire Hills. After
the college commencement is over the
town is filled during the summer by 3
crowd of pleasure-seekers, and has
quite reputation as summer resort.
l had gone up to attend a class re-
union, and, having a week or two to
while away until I went back to my
desk, concluded to spend them loafing
around where was. The college halls
were empty, and but few of the sum-
mer visitors had arrived, so i spent the
greater part of the time under the large
trees in front of the library. As l lay
there one afternoon watching the jaunty
sparrows fit in and out the ivy on the
chapel walls saw, shambling along
the walk, man who was evidently
strongly charged with New England
rum. He seemed conscious of my
scrutiny, as he suddenly wheeled
around and stared steadily back at
me.
George Kane" l cried out, half to
myself and hslf to him. s.George,"
..How are you, Browne?" Gn a
sheepish tone). ''What'r you doing
here?''
you were in Washington five years
ago you surely remember Gearge Kane.
He was the wittiest and brightest man
in the ranks of the peneil-pushers. He
never wrote anything that was not eager
" read and laughed over. A merry
sprite seemed to dwell in his quill. and
he always had a joke at his tongues
end. He was Momus on earth again.
And it was this happy laughter that
stood ON the walk near the steps of the
library with blinking eyes and shaky
knees, looking like dreary tramp just
risen from bed in the gutter; stupid,
swaying from side to side, with his head
tilted On one side; this was George Kane,
whom we considered giant of journal
ism, and a word from whom would send
us youthful journalists into the seventh
heaven of delight!
Il suppose you're seeking inspiration
from the grand old h-hills," he said
with lurch; "so'm Inspiration with
little sh-sugar n it,
And then seeing my look of astonish-
ment at his plight, Come, come.
youngster, is this the first time you've
seen a man full? Haven't You any
place to get myself decent in?"
took him to my room, and tried the
usual remedies is such cases, but he
seemed to grow only more maudlin.
He wept over me, and called me
"a zemplery fren'," and as a last re-
sort | made him come out with me and
walk up one of the mountain roads.
He talked necessarily, cursed the dusty
roads, laughed at the buds, whistled to
the chipmunks. cried about the pine
giants, and admired the sunset, and
when we reached the top of the noun
tain road he stopped abruptly and sat
down by the little mountain brook I'M
der grand old pine, and told me his
story.
He had come to Washington with
young wife whom he loved madly, and
whose slightest wish was his law.
Newspaper work kept him away from
her the greater part of the time, and
she found other company. One day he
came home and found an empty house.
He saw her once afterward, as she
whir1ed past him behind magnificent
pair of horses along one of the avenues.
Il tried hard to find her, Browne" he
said. Indeed / did. loved her too
much to let her go.n But he never had
found her, nor seen her face again.
And yet, with his awful sorrow always
by his side, he laughed his heartiest,
and kept his world of readers in a con-
slant grin. Il couldn't cry, so / had
to laugh. I would have gone mad if 1
hadn't. l tried to keep the blue devils
away with my pen. / wrote and wrote,
but was in hell all the time. / sup
pose they laugh all the time there. I
have tried drinking lately, but it's no
use, and l think | shall try water,
soOn," with horribly significant ges-
ture toward the river, lying far down
below US in the valley. So he rambled
on in an aimless way, with many, hor-
rible, almost blasphemous jests until
he valley lay in darkness beneath us
and the dark arch above us twinkled
with thousand stars. We descend
ed in silence until we neared the hotel.
A stylish dog-cart just then passed US,
in which sat a lady alone. George Kane
ran from nv side to the horses head
and stopped it.
MARY" he cried: ..for Gods sake
Mary listen to men'
The woman half rose at the sound Of
his voice, and then with her whip up
raised, in q hard voice, brazen and loud,
answered him:
20. get out of my way, George
Kaner'
He let the rein go, and stood there
irresolute and miserable. The light
from a hotel window fell on his face
There was no laughter there now.
White, distorted, haggard, and weary
of life, face l can never forget, and
when the whip descended with hiss
and the frightened horse sprang for
ward, it went down, and was crushed
IN the dust of the road. The horse,
with afuriOus gallop, rushed along the
rough road; the dOg-eart pitched this
side and that, and finally was over
turned, and two days afterward George
Kane lay in the college cemetery buried
beside his wife.-G. 4. Copeland. is
Washington Hatehet.