Democratic Northwest. [volume] (Napoleon, Ohio) 1869-1894, 1892-11-03
and then 70 himseli, and finally tOssed

and then TO himself, and finally tossed
it back csrelessly.
"The unccnsciousness of genius!'
whispered Addie in my ear, just as
he turned upon us.
"Who owns this book?
modestly answered that had that
great pleasure.
"Great pleasure, hey? She calls it q
pleasure, Toni Hem! l suppose |
ought to feel complimented; but don't.
Young lady, will you do me one fayorg"
"What is 1t, sir?"
"Put that stupid trash into the fire. "
"Stupid trashI'' cried Addie, aghast.
snatching up the volume.
"Yes, wrote 1t. was boy-and,
by George, my publishers took it out of
my desk and went mad over it, while
they actually turned up their noses at
my report of the poor laws-would you
believe itT'
My uncle looked sympathizing. Addie
arranged the ice cream glasses before
him without word.
"But, sir, look at the fame you have
won," remarked.
"Hem! fame-it's rag fluttering on
bush; wouldn't give button for it.
Five thousand dollars year will keep
you well clothed and well fed-fame
won't"
He helped himself to an ice.
There was no reply. The two gentle
men resumed their political discussion,
waxing so warm in the defense of their
favorite views that they were in fair
way to clear the tray between them.
Addie caught up the contemned volume
of poems and vanished from the room.
l followed her. She fled up the stairs
like fairy, and found her in thepoet's
chamber, stripping the roses from the
vases with frantic haste.
"What on earth are you about?' ]
asked, halting on the threshold in amaze
ment.
"He shall not have one of them," she
said, half crying. "His curtains shall
not be looped up with them-I have a
great mind to tie them back with rope
yarn. To think how we worked all the
day to give him pleasure, and after all
he only cares about eating and drinking
and being an alderman. Oh, it is toe
badl'
burst out laughing and ran down
stairs. The contrast between our
dreams of the poet and the poet as he
was was rich. / had to wait moment
in the hall to get my face into company
order" and then, pushing open the hall
closed door, went back into the parlor
At first sight l thought it was empty
The chairs were pushed away from the
table, and there was faint smell OF
cigars--had they actually been smoking
therep No; heard my uncle pacing uT
and down the garden, as was his wont
each evening, and the fragrance Of the
weed came that way, but he was alone
Where was the poet?
l caught sight of him at last, sitting
at the open window with the rose col
ored curtains falling in soft folds around
him. The moon was up, shining glori
ously upon the grassy yard beneath
him; the night wind rustled in the
leaves of the naples above his head
Addie, coming into the room, paused al
the sight of my uplifted finger on the
threshold.
1t had been all s'sham" then! Oul
poet, though a hearty eater, still re
tanned his love of the beautiful. What
on earth had made him talk such heresy
when he sat raped in enjoyment, never
stirring. scarcely breathing, as hi
watched that glorious moon? l woult
steal softly to his side, pause, try tt
convict him and make him recant al
the fibs he had told about these beauti
full blossomings of his youth-the poems
The carpet was thick and soft, and i
mufisd my football effectually, and
stood beside him unnoticed. His fact
was hidden by his arm. Iheard chok
ing sound--he was weeping. My hear
melted in a gush Of pity; laid my han(
upon his shoulder as sympathizingly al
could; he started o little; his head set
tied down upon one side, exposing hi
face; the mouth opened, and-he snored
The next morning started on my tril
J to the west, and from that day to this
have never met ''poet." M. w. G. il
New York News.