Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1890-09-06
CalliStOls Gift.
BIZ HUGH CONWAY,
By HUGH CONWAY.
- -
TOLD BY PHILIP BRAND, NJ. D., LONDON,

wish L mad the courage 10 begin this tale
~ turning to my professional visiting books,
md, taking at random any month out Of the
asst twenty years, give Its record AZ a fair
ample Of my ordinary work. The dismal
extract would tell you what a doctor's-I sup
pose ! may say a successful doctor's-lot is.
when his practice lies In a poor and densely-
populated district OF London. Dreary as
mch q beginning might be, II would perhaps
illay o m Of the incredulity which this tale
may probably provoke, as II would plainly
ihow 10Y little room there Is for things I'M
sginative or romantic In work 80 hard as
mine, or among such grim realities of power
~, pain, and grief as those by which / have
been surrounded. II would certainly make
II appear extremely unlikely that l should
have found time TO imagine, much less to
write, n romance or melodrama.
The truth is that when a man has toiIed
from nine O'Clock In the morning until nine
o'clock at night. such leisure as he can enicy
Il precious TO him, especially when even that
short respite is liable 30 be broken In upon at
any moment.
Still. in spite Of the doleful picture j have
drawn of what may be called 'the daily
grin6," l begin this tale with the account Of
Aholiday.
In the autumn Of 1864 I turned my back
with right goodwill upon London streets,
hospitals, and patients. and took my seat in
The North Express. The first revolution Of
Che wheels sent a thrill Of delight through
nv AIDED frame. A joyful sense of freedom
came over me. ] had really got away at last!
Moreover. 1 had left no address behind me,
80 for three blessed weeks might roam an I'M
disputed lord Of myself. Three weeks were
not very many to take out or the ~fifty-two,
but they were all I could venture 10 give my
self; for even at that time my practice, II not
90 lucrative SIS | could wish. was a large and
Increasing one. Having done a twelve
months hard work, | felt that no one In the
kingdom could take his holiday with a con-
science clearer that mine, so lay back In a
peculiarly contenied frame Of mind, and dis
counted the coming pleasures OF my brief
respite from labor.
There are many ways OF passing a holiday
many places at which IL may be spent: but,
after all, II you wish TO enjoy II thoroughly
there is but one royal rule to be followed.
That is, simply to please yourself go where
you like, and mount the innocent holiday
hobby which is dearest to your heart, let It's
name be botany, geology, entomology, con
chology, venery, rs,7cation, OF what not
Then you will be @sppy. and return well
braced up for the battle of life. / knew
city clerk with literary tastes, who invariably
spent his annual fortnight among the musti.
est tones OF the British Museum, and aver.
red that his health was more benefited by SC
doing than if he had passed the time inhaling
the freshest sea-breezes. l daresay he was
right in his assertion.
Sketchlng has always been my favorite
holiday pursuit Poor as my drawings may
be, nevertheless, as / turn them over in my
portfolio, they bring, to me at least, vivid Ne
membranes of many sweet and picturesque
spots, happy days, and congenial compan.
ions. II is not for me to say anything of theil
actual merits, but they are dear TO me fol
their associations.
This particular year | went 20 North Wales
and made Bettwsy-Coed my headquarters
j stayed at the Royal Oak, that well-knowr
little inn dear to many an artists heart, anC
tecming with "reminiscences of famous mel
who have %sojourned there times without
number. II was here l made the acQuaint
ance of the man with whose life the cuTiou,
events here told are connected.
On the first day after my arrival at Bettw'
my appreciation of my liberty was so thor
ough, my appetite for the enjoyment of thu
beauties of Nature so keen and Unsuitable
that / went so far and saw so much, tina
when / returned to the Royal Oak night hac
sdSy. af I w nss Sakia my " meal was place.
on the table, the only occupant Of the coffee
room. Just then a young man entered. ant
ordered something to eat. The waiter know
ing, no doubt something OF the frank coma
rdderte which exists, or should exist, between
fba fnlinvuarc nf the nafntarfc croft laid his
cover at my table. The newcomer seated
himself, gave me q pleasant smile and nod,
and In five minutes we were in full swing of
conversation.
The moment my eyes fell upon the young
man | had noticed how singularly handsome
lie was. Charles Carriston-for this l found
sfterward to be his name-was about twenty
two years of age. He was tall, but slightly
built; his whole bearing and figure being re-
inarkably elegant and graceful. He looked
even more than gen~tlenanly,-he looked dis
ti~nguished. His face was pale, its FEATURES
wellcut, straight, and regular. His fore
head spoke OF high intellectual qualities, and
there was somewhat of that development
over the eyebrows which phrenologists, l be-
lieve, consider as evidence of the possession
of Imagination. The general expression Of
biS I'M wax tuC ~ cuuutcrs anu w fthlith
beauty was heightened by a pair of soft,dark,
dreamy-looking eyes.
II only remains to add that, from his at
tire, i judged him 10 be an artist-a profess
sional artistic the backbone. In the course
fed him. He smiled.
II am only an amateur" he said; ian idle
man, nothing more-and your
"Alas!I am doctor"
"Then we shall not have to answer 10 each
other for our sins In painting"
We talked on pleasantly until our bodily
wants were satisfied. Then came that pleas
ant craving for tobacco, which after a good
meal, is natural tot well-regnlaied digestion.
..Shall we 70 and smoke outsider said Car
riston. THE night Is delicious"
We went out and sat on one of the wooden
benches. As my new friend said, the night
was delicious There was scarcely a breath
Of cir moving. The ssars and the moon
shone brightly, and the rush of the not far
distant stream came to us with q soothing
murmur Near ms were three or -four jovial
young artists. They were In merry mood;
one Of them had that day sold a pictu.e to a
tourist We listened to their banter until,
most likely growing thirsty, they re-entered
w. HKW
Carriston had said little since we had been
out Of doors. He smoked his cigar placidly
and eazed up ut the skies. With the white
moonlight falling on his strikingly-beautiful
fAcc--t1e graceful pose into which he fell
heseemed to me the embodiment of poetry.
He paid no heed to the merry talk of the art
lists, which so much amused me-indeed, /
doubted II he heard their voices.
Yet he must have done so, for as soon as
they had left US he came out of his reverie.
1T must be very NICE" he said, ITO have
10 make ones living by Arts
Mice for those who can make livings by
It'll answered.
"All can do that who are worth II. The
Gay Of neglected genius is gone by. Muller
was the last sufferer, i think--and he died
young"
III you are 50 sanguine, why not try your
own luck at ity"
II would; hut unfortunately I nm q rich
man."
i laughed 1t this misplaced regret Then
CATviston, in the most simple way, told me .
good deal about himself. He was an orphan,
~ only child. He had already ample means;
but Fortune had still favors in store for him.
AT the death of his uUcle now an agpd man