Fairhaven herald. [volume] (Fairhaven, Wash.) 1890-????, 1890-07-20
EDITOR
A BRILLIANT BOHEMIAN

ola hurry; the rush carries with il every
thing, even the literature OF the day
Dramas are written la night. aud books
in week. The new-sown seed Of grass
upon the fresh graves of great men have
not shown their emerald sprouts above
the surface ere the biographies of the>c
men have been written and published. and
fortunes harvested thereirom. la an
the rush and turmoil 81 this
fast-going age, and in the rapid
writing Of latter days. when every
body seems 10 be fastening Ia tllc cnd OF
the century, as a stone approaching it,
final plunge at the bottom OF a prccipicc.
il Is with infinite aud grateful pleasure.
and a sense of rest withal. that one turn.
to the work OF 20 brilliant bohemian a.
Edgar l.. Nakeman. whose delightful
letters Of travel. exquisite poetry. aud de-
ecripti0ns of interesting places on the
earth. permeate the newspapers and the
magazines.
wakemans misfortuncs have beeu sood
fortune to the lovers Of bright modern
literature. lie was long time associated
with the CONVERSATIONAL OF Louisville.
ON its home-stail and was afterWari,
several wears az the head pf that new -
papers Chicago bufeaH IN the latter
city he conceived and carriea put the idea
of publishing bright weekly magazine.
Though backed BY large capital. the Cur
rent was too good 10 live. and after two
or three years Of heroic struggle on the
part Of Wakcman. it began 20 waue Cor
want Of sufficient patronage. and finally
died. IL was still living. however. when
Wakeman. overcome By great domestic
grief. wandered away and people said b,
was insane. lie lived some months la Ihe
seclusion OF a monastery. and then took
up line Of travel throughout the place,
Of the earth. which has not ended yet
-.
Nakcman j. now what everyday peo pie
consider a strange man. He j. q B0hc-
milan Of a new school. or Of no school. a.
for that matter. unles 10 be- the Nakeman
school There is nothing about him of
the Henri Murger type: Of the Bohemian
ism which flashed it, lustre in the under.
ground wine cellar, Of Pari, and was 50
poor that he who was discovered with a
gold piece 90 his possession was forever
afterwards called The Banker nothing
Of the semi-tramp and nor at an ioyeabir
Bohemian Of this side of he AtIautiew ho
has but recently disappeared. % not from
life, at least from the literary centers and
the brilliant circles which once forgave.
but no longer fargive- him, on account Of
his genius. for the grave vices which he
possessed This bohemian t. altogether
luveable. His pen j. like crysia brook.
Rowing through a desert. his writings the
shadow Of a great rock lea q weary
land. lie j. an Arab whose hsme
i wherever be- pitches his tent
One week We read about hi, climbing the
steeple of Trinity church at midnight on
Christmas eve. and zap there above he
snowy. moonlit ruofs. above the sleeping
city, like Carlyle'> wondrpus hero Ia
''Cartor Re>artus. who lived in the top
most story Of the highest house in The
city % Neissnichtwo. there alone with
the star, writing a poem ia prose about
The city below. a. the Trinity chimes rang
out their first Christmas greeting 10 the
sleepers below. and out over the black
waters Of the harbor 10 the white ships
from all over the world A Wondrous
story. wondrou>ly told: aud next De- is
waiting o. us the perfume uf orange bios
SONS aud azalea~. the musk nf magnolia
blooms. ID making "a. dcaf the twaag oi
The spanish guitar aud the laugh OF 90.
black-eyed sen2riias a. they danced ln he
bolero away down in sunny Cuba. lie j.
always o surprise. aud delightful one.
His letters from the Riviera aud the
Mediterranean cities read like poetry aud
sound like music. hut the rarest pleas
ure he affords j. when be- sends from over
the sea a poem shining like diamond
with gorgeous culoriug and "a, ~Weetly
sad a. the sigh of a maiden on her wed
ding night.
There are few fragmrutary poem. writ
ten in the past ten wears which equal hi.
latest from Venice; hi, we'll nigh peerless
"Angelus. There j. something like
Rosetti in the word painting of the oprn-
ing verse.
'Ing,i',s Dpmini apniiara Har,a~
81 Mark sets the peal ofan hundred ch imcs
dear.
"1iigsius Dom,Hi u.hiidrH Nara
Thus the low prayer of my -warth soudo-
li.r
The purple curtains 81 the west
Have almost hid Tide sunsets fire.
Which. flaming Ncuic,ward a crest.
Lights softly dome and cross and spire.
Deep lie the shadows In lagoun-
Far n ChioWga'- sails and reeds.
The air with landward perfume -woons;
Ny oarsman bows aud counts his beads.
Our craft lies silent on the stream.
And, floating thus { idly dream
1t is picture full or Tumercsque reds.
but perfect rs gorgeous rose Then one
can hear minor chord like Chopin as
the wanderer under the old bells OF the
time-worn towers lets his memory drift
back to the diamond morn Of long ago. to
the farm: 10 the mother. and draws the
exquisite picture; no longer Turner or I
Gerome with flashing colors. but a picture
fun Of grays. painted in a lonely home /
sick twilight hour 60 be seen dimlr
through tears:
Without. the scents Of fields the ntu-k
OF hedge " corn. ~ winrowcd hay
The subtle attars ~ the dusk;
And glow worms like some milky way.
within. a. from an angels tongue.
These dear old songs my mother sung.
Prom every stormy wind that blows"
softly nov the Light of day"
Thou hidden source ~ calm repose;"