The Telegraph-courier. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1888-1946, 1891-05-28


he looked across the park the scope Of his
vision was not contracted. He could see
perfectly, until a procession of sloW-wheel-
ing fireworks defiled across his eyeballs.
little dorgluns, we aren't at all well.
Let's go home. If only Torp were back,
now!n
But Torpenhow was in the South of En-
gland inspecting dockyards in the company
Of the Nilghai His letters were brief and
full Of mystery.
Dick never asked anybody to help him IN
his Joys or his sorrows. He argued, in the
loneliness of the studio. henceforth to be
decorated with a film of gray gauze in one
corner, that, if his fate were blindness, all
the TorpenhoWs in the world could not save
him. II can't call him off his trip to sit
down and sympathize with me. I must pull
through the business alone" he said. He
was lying on the sofa eating his moustache
and wondering what the darkness of the
night would be like. Then came to his
mind the memory of a quaint scene IN the
Soudan. A soldier had been nearly hacked
in two by a broad-bladed Arab spear. For
one instant the man felt no pain. Looking
down, he saw that his life blood was going
from him. The stupid beWilderment on his
face was so intensely comic that both Dick
and TorpenhoW, still painting and unstrung
from fight for life, had roared with laugh
ter, in which the man seemed as it he would
join, but as his lips parted in a sheeplsh
grin, the agony of death came. upon him,
and he pitched grunting at their feet, Dick
laughed again remembering the horror. 1t
seemed so exactly like his own case. "But
I have little more time allowed me-" he
said He paced up and down the room,
quietly at first, but afterward with the hur-
ried feet of fear. It was as though black
shadow stood at his elbow and urged him to
go forward: and there were only weaving
circles and floating pin-dots before his eyes.
eve .o.,e+ ho co12c. P:=.7-iH: va rss--4 h
eaim." He talked aloud for the sake of dis
traction. ssThis isn't nice at all. What
shall we do? We must do something. Our
time is short. shouldn't have believed
that this morning; but now things are differ
ent. Binkie, where was Moses when the
light went out?"
Binkie smiled from ear to ear, as we'll
bred terrier should but made no suggestion.
severe there but world enough and time,
this coyness, Binkie were no crime. But at
my back I always hear He wiped his
forehead, which was unpleasantly damp.
s'What can do? What can | do? [ haven't
any notions left, and I can't think connect
edly, but must do something or | shall go
off my head"
The hurried walk recommended, Dick
stopping every now and again to drag forth
long neglected canvases and old note books;
for he turned to his work by instinct, as a
thing that could not fail. s'You won't do,
and you won't do" he said at each in
spection. ''No more soldiers. I couldn't
paint em. Sudden death comes home too
early, and this is battle and murder both
for me-"
The day was falling, and Dick thought for
moment that the twilight of the blind had
come upon him unawares. ''Allah AL
mighty" he cried, despairingly, "help me
through the time of waiting, and I won't
whine when my punishment comes What
can do now, before the light goes!"
There was no answer Dick waited till he
could regain some sort of control over him
self His hands were shaking, and ne
prided himself on their steadiness; he could
feel that his lips were quivering, and the
sweat was running down his face He was
dashed by fear, driven forward by the de-
sire to get to work at once and accomplish
something, and madd9ne6 by the refus&l
of his brain to do more than repeat the
news that he was about to go blind. cts a
huniliating exhibition" he thought s'and
I'm glad Torp isn't here to see. The
doctor said I was to avoid mental worry
Come here and let me pet you, Binkie."
The little dog yelped because Dick near
ly squeezed the bark out of him. Then he
heard the man speaking in the twilight, and
doglike, understood that his trouble stood
eff from him.
''Allah is good, Binkie. Not quite SO gen.
tie as we could wish, but we'll discuss that
later. I think I see my way to it now. Ali
those studies of Bessie's head were non
sense, and they nearly brought your master
into scrape. I hold the notion now as
clear as crystalline Melancolia that tran
scends all wit There shall be Maisie
in that head, because 1 shall. never get
Maisie; and Bess, of course, because she
knows all about Melancolia, though she
doesn't know she knows; and there shall be
some drawing in it, and it shall all end up
with laugh. That's for myself. Shall she
giggle or grin? No, she shall laugh right
out of the canvas, and every man and woman
that ever had a sorrow Of their own shall
what is it the poem says?-
Understand the speech and feel stir
OF fellowship in all disastrous fight.
In all disastrous fight? That's better than
painting the thing merely to pique Maisie
I can do it now because I have it inside me.
Binkie, I'm going to hold you up by your
tail. You're an omen. Come here"
Binkie swung head downward for mo-
ment without speaking.
Rather like holding a guinea pig; but
you're brave little dog, and you don't yelp
when you're maltreated. 1t is an omen"
Binkie went to his own chair, and as often
as he looked saw Dick walking up and
down, rubbing his hands and chuckling.
That night Dick wrote a letter to Maisie
full of the tenderest regard for her health,
but saying very little about his own, and
dreamed of the Melancolia TO be born. Not
till morning did he remember that some
thing might happen TO him in the future.
He fell to work whistling softly. and was
swallowed up in the clean, clear JOY of
creation, which does not come to man
too often lest he should consider himself