, 1890-06-15

II DO NoT LOVE MY CALLING"
Catching a pillow by the corner she
shucked it dexterously to the floor. Then
she nimbly yanked the case of the other,
and afterwards skinned off the sheets.
When | would resume my writing she
would pause in her duties and look ut me
furtively. When | looked up again she
would resume her havoc.
She was rather plain; not the kind Of
plainness that often goes along with great
mental power, but the kind you might ex-
pect in a hippopotam1s that had no
early advantages except a hare lip. She
seemed to think it odd that | should be
in my room writing st that hour of the
day while there was a base ball game 90
ing on. She did not understand that /
was a litterateur.
Finally | could bear the restraint no
longer; SO, politely raising my hat, which
had been on the bureau all this time, 1
asked:
DO | address the chambermaid2"
You do, she said shyly. as she
threw the mattress across the footboard
knocking the prehistoric dust out of 1t in
4 beautiful cloud.
Would you mind telling me whether
you are perfectly happy l exclaimed.
"Oh, no, | am not happy a little Bit"
she murmured.
And do you not love your c~alling2'
No. | do not love my calling. Why
should | love my caling2 / love to
mingle with the glad throng. / was
born on Coney Island, where it was one
round Of pleasure all the live long SUN
mer day. My father was an artist. He
bad an atelier on the beach, where he
took tin types in Il group Like all
artists he. was iInprovident. His tastes
were far 10 advance of his income. But
he loved my mother truly, aud when not
working at his art he would often turn
the wringer for her.
And you were happy theu2"
"Ah, yes. So happy so happy! l
psrtook Of my fathers artistic tastes, but
physically | resemble my mother. She
cared nothing for art, but could catch a
barrel OF pork by the chimes aud throw it
into a wagon all by her lone self"
And what makes you unhappy now2'
The hungry waves ate into the beach
cen as the rhubarb pie is eat into by tie
laughing boy. The red flag of the auc.
tloneer arose on the Du john tower of the
big hotel. The kodak knocked the talents
out of my pale, artist father and he took
to drink. Rum entered his mouth and
foolshly stole way his brains. returning
them with thanks. however on the follow.
ing day"
And this business is not conGenial to
your"
mo, it Is not. | pant for the smell Of
tha a.lt q. " -
glad voices of Coney Island and recall
those happy times when the beautiful
South Beach on Staten Island had not
the merry throng. | also loved a fragile
young street car driver on the Broadway
line. He was a lala. He was an excel
lent horsemsn. aud with the reins in hi,
strong hands he did not fear the most
frey steed. | do not think he knew
what fear was. I've seen a team cut VI
real mean with Hiram but he never
blsnched. But one day as he was coins
home from Coney Island, whittier he had
been TO breathe a few vows into my ear.
a policeman that weighed over 2oC
pounds, and who bad not dubbed any
one for SO long that the other polict
chaffed him and poked fun at him, de
coyed Hiram into au alley and beat our
quite a large quantity OF his brains, from
the loss of which he never fully recov
cred"
What did you do them"
Il had to 20 out to service, as they say
in the English books. | spent one sum
mer, however. at Heidelberg, training my
voice for chamberwork. Then | went &c
Milan, where | learned how to make NJ
a bed with ACCORDION p~leating across the
top. l also learned how to give q bed az
air OF plumpness even when in q state o.
collapse. Now | can get a job any time.
Yesterday | was offered a job in a new
pay in New York. You know that all
good plays have a cham bermaid in the
inst act that comes in, clsims to dust the
furniture. and also wonders where the
butler is. She generally wears a solitary
alum ring. and don't know how to dust a
chair no more han perdition could re.
frain FROM scorching a feather. So / can
take that place and also throw out the
villain at the close of the act. for | in.
herited my mothers gift of streusth to,
gether with my fathers gift of art"
And so You would leave the probes
sion which you nov adorn?"
Yes, / am tired waiting on my infer
Tors and making up beds for disagreeable
people IN whom | take no interest, tc
muss again"
Shs then gathered up her traps and
started for the door, but before she did SC
she told me in a few well chosen words
taken from the bes, Fireside Story paper
mingled with Coney Island idioms, how
she yearued to be shet of the thralldom o.
hotel life, and to once more be free.
think she will go on the stage. L woult
not be surprised if, as a result of 1t. til,
stage takes t, it's wings and flies.
At the hotel table yesterday l saw
face that l had seen before, but I couI
remember where. l have nov reache
that age where lprevarieate in that d
rection some. for ! can not Iemembs
names any more, and SO when this gent