San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1891-05-21

daughters invited me frequently TO their
houses, but these invitations l generally
refused. My best books warned me
against feminine society-and believed
and accepted the warning. This ten
dency of mine exposed me to the ridieule
of those among my companions who
were amorously inclined, but their gay
tests at what they termed my weak.
ness" never affected me. trusted In
friendship rather than love, and had a
friend-one for whom at that time
would gladly have laid down my life
one who inspired me with the most
profound attachment. He, Guido Fer
rari, also Joined occasionally with Others
in the good-natured mockery l brought
down upon myself by my shrinking dis
like Of women.
Fife on thee, Fabio!" he would cry.
Thou wilt not taste life till thou hast
slipped the nectar from pair OF rose-red
lips-thou shalt not guess the riddle OF
the stars till thou hast gaZed deep down
into the fathOmleSs glory OF Ia maiden's
eyeS-thou canSt not know delight till
thou has clasped eager arms round coy
waist and hear the beating of passion
ate heart against thine own! A truce
to thy musty volumes! Believe it,
those ancient and Sorrowful philosophers
had no manhood in them-their blood
was water-and their SANDERS against
women were but the pettish utterances
OF their own deserved disappointmentS.
Those who miss the chief prize of life
would fain persuade others that 1t is
not worth having. What, man! Thou,
with ready wit, glancing eye, gay
smile, a supply form. thou wilt not en-
ter the lists of love? What says Vol
taire of the blind god?
''Qui que tn sois VOLTA ton maftre,
II full est-ou il doit etre."
When my friend spoke thus l smiled,
but answered nothing. His arguments
failed to convince me, Yet loved to
hear him talk--his voice was mellow as
the note Ola thrush, and his eyes had an
eloquence greater than all speech. l
loved him--God knows! unselishly, sim
cerely-with that rare tenderness some
times felt by schoolboys for one another;
but seldom experienced by grown men.
/ was happy in his society, as he,
indeed, appeared to be in mine. We
passed most Of our time together, he,
like myself, having been bereaved OF his
parents in early youth. and therefore
left to shape out his own course of life
as suited his particular fancy. He chose
art as a profession, and, though fairly
successful painter, was as poor as was
rich. / remedied this neglect of fortune
for him in various ways with due fore
thought and delicacy-and gave him as
many commissions as l possibly could
without rousing his suspicion, or wound
ing his pride. For he possessed strong
attraction for me-we had much the
same tastes, we shared the same sympa-
thies, in short desired nothing better
than his confidence and companiOnship.
In this world no one, however harm
less, is allowed to continue happy. Fate
or caprice-cannot endure to see us
| monotonously at rest Something per-
fectly trivial-a look, word, touch,
and 10! long chain of associations is
broken asunder, and the peace we
deemed so deep and lasting is finally in
terrupted. This change came to me, as
surely as it comes to all. One
day-hOw well remember it!--one sui
try evening towards the end of May,
1881, was in Naples. l passed the
afternoon in my yacht, idly and slowly