San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1891-06-06

Let us follow him ourselves. A recent
spell of warm weather has melted the
snow from the streets, but now it has
fallen clear and cold again The dry,
bracing air tingles in the nOstrils. Harry
Trent throws away his cigar and fills
his lungs with the frosty distillation of
the stars; then he buttons his coat across
his chest and steps out at a sturdy pace.
His White hair glistens like silver beneath
the rim of his silk hat; his rudy, kindly,
handsome face, with its aquiline nose,
blue eyes and well set lips, is alternately
revealed and Swallowed as he approaches
and passes the street lamps. At the cor
ner of Twentyesixth street and Fifth
avenue, where the up town Delmonico's
now stands, he halts and seems to de-
liberate.
A beggar creeps up and mumbles a
petition. Harry looks at him a moment
and then draws off his glove to give him
quarter. A woman walks by him,
fingers and turns to pass him again.
Harry says, Take care, my child;
there's policeman round the corner"
A hack driver draws up at the curb and
touches his hat. Harry hesitates. There
were no elevated roadsin those days; but
finally he shakes his head and continues
his walk up the avenue.
1T will do me good to foot it," he says
to himself. Whats couple of milesr"
SofteneL light comes through the cur
tanned windows on either side of the
street; carriages rumble up and down
over the uneven pavement, ever and
anon pausing to set down their occu-
pants at a carpeted doorway. AT Thirty
sixth street Harry pauses again, and be-
fore his mind rises the picture of the
young Olympia, a figure of youth, health
and arch intelligence, who is even now,
perhaps, thinking of him, only a few
doors away. Shall he go in and pass the
| evening there? He nearly yields to the
suggestion, and takes a step or two in
that direction. But no! he had promised
himself something different; he will see
/ Olympia tomorrow. He turns again and
resumes his walk. Yet Olympia was
| really thinking of him at that moment,
and tomorrow-well. Tomorrow some
times means never.
No such reflection disturbs Harry
Trent. The exercise has warmed his
blood, and his heart is light. The con-
slant success of his life has had its effect
upon him. He does not believe that mis-
fortune can overtake him. Mortal man
seldom or never lives to Harry's age
without having done something that he
ought not to have done. Yet he has done
much good in the world. His reputation
among his fellows is untarnished If he
have enemies they have not declared
| themselves. But has he an enemy? At
any rate, he fears none. Like other fort
innate men. he has faith in his star; like
them, too, he forgets the legend of Cree
sus.
By this time he has passed beyond the
| most thickly settled portion of fashiona-
BILE New York; the rumble of carriages
is less frequent, and there are gaps be-
tween the houses. Foot passengers are
few. His steady footsteps are echoed
distinctly from the frozen pavement.
His shadow only attends him as he
walks, now frightening behind, now
slipping beneath his feet and starting
out ahead of him. Darker shadows
gather in the side streets. As he reaches
the park something seems to detach it.
self from the duskiness on the left and
move forward to where broken board
ing bespread with gaudy placard an
nouncing the appearance OF favorite
actress in the tragic drama of Leah"
provides convenient screen Harry
Trent passes steadily on and the shadow
follows him.
And now, at length, the goal of the
little journey is in sight. There stands
the new house, solid and shapely on its
strong foundations, built to last and to
be the abode of prosperity and happi-
ness. AS Harry Trent approaches it he
slackens his pace, and a proud glow of
proprietorship expands his breast. He
sees, as in swift vision, the perspective
of the years to come. Within these four
walls is to begin the long succession of
happy posterity. Rich, powerful and
peaceful, they shall take their place as
the best type of the foremost nation of
the earth. The women shall be beauti-
full and bountiful, the men eminent and
honorable, friends of the great and great
themselves. The house of Trent! 1t
stands dark and empty now, but the
hour is at hand when its windows shall
be illuminated and its doors opened, and
all the city come to do it homage.
There is pleasure for an imaginative
mind in doing privately and, as it were,
by stealth things that ordinary persons
would make no secret about. Harry
Trent, in spite of his proved and prac-
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