San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1890-08-30
SINGLE SATURDAYS.

minded people to "waste some time
in August. 1t is a needful tribute tc
the sultry air, a graceful going in tt
the "dulce far niente" of the season.
looked about for an innocent and
yet effective manner of wasting my
time and behold it was ready to my
hand.
saw a white covered book with a
grotesque picture on the lid. Straight
way, back into the memory haunted
chambers of the brainn my thoughts
fled involun tarily-
Where had l seen that "nom de
plume before?
All! yes, now it is all clear to me,
the title of the volume is new, but the
name of the author L have heard be-
fore
1 see a breakfast table al a big hotel,
an island of provender in seething
sea of walters, and at the head of it a
stately gentleman with gOld-rimmed
eyeglasses.
He has passed the last birthday in
his forties, and he looks as if he
might be about as frivolous as
Bunker Hill monument.
There is large newspaper in front
of him and [ wonder with an awe,
born of girlish ineXperience, how any
body can be so absorbed in the fate of
the nation.
Presently right beside him a sable
cOlored servItor slips and falls, total
wreck in the debris of descending
fish and eggs. The stately gentleman
starts too, and he too drops some
thing-a paper bound volume he had
been reading behind that newspaper.
pretend to look the other way and
study the natural history of a very
fat lady who tries to get permission
to bring in very small dog.
When / do look back once more.
the Tribune is folded into large,
rather square, bundle, and it's reader
asks me innocently: "My dear, will
you have fish or omelette?"
l modestly intimate that will take
both, and keep another eye to lee
ward in that compact newspaper.
From Blue Boards last wife down,
a secret fascinates a woman. 1 was
determined to learn the true inward
ness of the book he was reading.
l concluded it must be some fearful
political volume, forbidden by the
government, something dark and
dangerous at any rate, which could
reduce his imposing personality to
the paltry exercise of concealment.
After breakfast / go with him into
the gallery. He carries the news
paper and deposits it in the large arm
of his rocking chair.
Don't you think walk would do
you good?" he says, kindly.
assure him 1 am tired, will stay
with him-I open my novel-a very
silly one by the way, but which I
carried openly in the face of all men.
1t made my heart sick to think of
him with a mystery under his fine
frank face, the exponent not two feet
from me.
"Why don't you read the paper?" 1
venture at last.
He blushes-yes, actually bushes;
try to feel tbs the salt breeze, but it
isn't, as the children say.
He was born In the Eastern states,
so he answers one question with an
other.
What book are you reading?" 1t
looks like one of those trashy novels,
You know I don't believe In them.
When we read it should always be to
improve our minds.
feel Inundated, then an idea &C.
ours to me.
Its all / have, sir, ;" say, humbly.
Perhaps if you could lend me some
thing"
His face lights up. He has known
me all my life, and he knows how
much trouble L have bad to
struggle through heavy books.
II have a new work on Egypt" he
answers, 81 have read it with great
interest. It-it-weighs good deal,
but the pictures are interesting. 1t
would be so much better than wasting
your time, as you are dong now"
II will read it from cover to cover"
reply with an enthusiasm quite
new, land 1 will give you lotus
flower to wear in your button hole,
when am through"
"You treat all serious subjects with
hopeless levity," he says, but rises to
get me the book.
Will he leave the paper? My heart
beats high! All, yes! The desire to
lead me in the way of learning, has
made him forget his precautions. I
watch his manly figure with the de-
termined, military walk enter the
office.
The piazza is full of people, but 1
am practically alone with the terrible
secret, mapped in the Tribune.
/ yield to temptation. 1 will know
the truth. / unfold the paper, and
there falls out with a "sickening
thud." title uppermost, "Molly
Bawn," by the "Duchess!"
o, chow are the mighty fallenn