St. Landry democrat., 1886-07-10

to find something more of Miss Church.
ill., and he did not know whether relief
or disappointment were the greater
when he found no mention of her.
Pills homeward letters touched Miss
Churchill no more, and there were rea-
sons for this which would have dis.
turbed Tregarthen had he known them.
When Roland Marsh and his young
friend talked of Tregarthen the poet
had occasionally to listen to second
hand di::tribes against women, of whom
his young friend knew, perhaps, as lit
tie as could well be known. These,
being inspired by. natural reflected on
Tregarthen's wife; butfor a time Marsh
was contented to dispute them on gen
eral grounds, and to instruct Phil that
no man vas ever truly good who could
so libel one-nnlf of humanity. He told
Phil that a chivalrous attitude toward
women was essential to any male hui
man creature who desired to be man,
and more to the same effect.
Now the young man was beginning
to discover that he was by no means
a misogynist but he would answer:
''Iruth before sentiment. l know one
| truly good mantle best man in the
| world-so far-the kindest-hearted, the
| purest-minded, and the most honorable
and he thinks extremely i'll of women.
Perhaps he generalizes too much from
| one particular case' (the young fellow
had wonderfully philosophic airs at
this time, and talked with the gravity
of grandfatheD; 'but, if he does, thu
one case was probably bad enough to
justify him.
perhaps So said the poet. ''By
the way, Phil, did you ever meet Miss
Churchill?'
"No,' said Phil.
"Should you like to meet her:
Like to meet her2' said Phil "I'd
60 from here to the Mirror on m,
hands and knees to meet her
''That is not at all necessary said
Marsh smiling; 1--WE can take cab
Be here at twelve o'clock tomorrow
and we will drive down to the theatet
together
Phil went away uplifted at the pros
pect, and sat far into the night slavins
at the sonnet beginning
To what dim glade with airy voices filled
OF JOY, and sorrow hast thou charmed Iii.
soul!'
This production was addressed t.
Miss Churchill, as Bertha, in 'Gossa
mcr,' and the young versifier knelt 4
the shrine of Miss Churchill's perfer
tons in such ardor as only your
versifer knows. The quality of Il
verse produced has little to do with tt
warmth of sentiment experienced
Young men and young women writ
woeful nonsense sometimes over whic
they thrill and weep and beam
though they were so many Apollo
and Sapphos; and the fact that Ph
really was poet made him no warm
than he would have felt had he bee
altogether hollow-headed. The diffe
ence is, that the poet gets his thrij
the other sort, all stops at the fngei
breadth farther.
Of course he had had a thousan
temptations to expose his verses,
some of them, to real and approve
poet, when he found himself admitte
to intimacy with one; but he had a
ways blushed at them, as the pref
Jane bushes when she hears in h
day-dream the words of Courts,
which are not yet spoken. Butsnow !,
so loved and innocently workshops
his own fancies, as set forth in. Il,
particular sonnet, that the template
assailed him with irresistible force; al
when he called upon Marsh, as a
ranged, he produced the manuscriI
with much confusion, and asked him
read it.
"Would you mind reading this, NJ
Marsh" he said, blushingly. s'The'
are only fourteen lines, and it can't be
you long. 1t may be dreadful raj
.'Let me see," returned the poet. f
read the verses with a grave fac
'.Shall print this for youPS he askec
"We pay guinea page for verst
and sonnet can stand by itself
These are commercial days whe
even poets 60 into business, and Mars
as Phil knew, was proprietor of a ma;
azine. The author of the sonnet VIZ |
overwhelmed.
eff you think it worth printing" h
said, with becoming diffidence.
yes said Marsh, II think it vel |
we'll worth printing-very well wort |
it, indeed And now" locking ill., |
sonnet in his desk, ''if you are read, !
we will start. Smith reads his neN
play to-day, and have promised to b
there. He was my collaboration for tW
or three years, and is one of the fine
fellows living. You must know him
PHIL
Altogether, heaven seemed openin
on Master Phil this morning. William
John Smith, author of the slain an,
buried 'Demogorgon," was in til
oreenrnnm with his roll of manuscr.nl |