Idaho semi-weekly world. [volume] (Idaho City, Idaho Territory) 1875-1908, 1892-12-20
A VOLUNTARY DEATH.

KNEW Louis Miraz very well, In the old
stndent days when we used to take orr
meals together.
Louis had the deep eyes, the pale COM
plexion and the long and disheveled hair
of all those young men who came to town
from the country to conquer glory
He was a writer. soon found his name
in Sunday journals and reviews, and then
he began to write those short and exquisite
sketches which have made his reputation.
Thus five years passed, when met him
one day in the editors Office of a journal
for which worked.
Each Of us was as much pleased as the
other at thus meeting again; and after the
first What! is that your Is that your we
stood facing each other, shaking hands
and exposing, IN laugh Of cordial delight
our teeth, which in old times we used to
exercise on the san. crust of poverty. He
lad not changed. He had not even sacri-
feed his long hair, which he threw back
with the graceful movement of a horse
who losses his name. Only he had the
clear complexion and calm eye of a CON
tented man, and his slim figure was clad in
most fashionable costume.
said he affectionately, taking me by the
where the April sun gilded the young
leaves of the plane trees.
All, happy dayl How we exhausted the
Don't you rememberss" do you re-
member the fried eggs which tasted of
straw, and the dreadful rice milk, the mel
ancholy air of your landIady, and the Ger
man who used to pawn his watch every
three monthsfo
Those days of hardship for Louis were
finished He had from afar applauded my
success as | had watched his. But one
thing did not know, and that was that he
mad married woman whom he adored.
and that he had Il charming little girl
Come and see them: you shall dine
with me
let myself be persuaded, and he carried
me to pretty suburb, where he lived in a
cottage among the trees. There every
thing made you welcome. No sooner had
we opened the door of the garden than a
Young dog frisked about our feet
Down, Dick. lie will soil your clothes.n
But ut the sound of the bell Mrs. Miraz
appeared ut the steps with her little daugh-
ter in her arms. An imposing and beauti-
full blonde, her well nodded figure wrapped
in blue gown
Put on a plate more. I've an old com.
rade with me'
And the happy father, keeping his hat
on his head and caressing his little girl.
showed me all over his estabIishment-th
dining room, frightened by light bits of
faience; the study, Astounding in books,
with its window opening out on the green
turf, so that Il puff of wind had strewn
with rose leaves the printers proofs which
were scattered on the table.
This is only a beginning. you know. 1t
wasn't so long ago that we were working
for three sous II line"
And while luxuriated under a blossom
ing Judas tree which | saw in the garden.
Miraz, at ease in his home, had slipped
into his working vest, put on his slippers,
and, lying on his sofa, caught little Helen
in his arms to toss her in the air-"Houp
la! Houp lar
do not remember ever to have had a
more perfect impression of contentment.
We dned pleasantly--two good courses,
that was all; dinner without pretense,
where we served ourselves with the pepper
mill.
The charming wife presided with her
bright smile, having her child by her side
in high chair. She spoke but little, but
her sweet and intelligent attention fol-
lowed our light and paradoxical chat, the
good humored fooling of men of letters,
and at the dessert she took a rose from the
bouquet which ornamented the table and
placed it in her hair near her ear with q
supreme grace. She was indeed that love
~ and silent friend whom a dreamer re-
quires
We took our coffee in the study-they
intended to furnish the salon very soon
with the price of story to be published
by Levy; then. as the evening was cool, a
lire of sticks and twigs was built, and
While we smoked, Miraz and |, recalling
Old memories, the mistress of the house
holding on her knees little Helen, now
ready for bed, made her repeat "Our Faith
er" and Hail Mary" which the little one
lsped, rubbing her little feet together be-
lore the warm fame
we sa" each other again, often at first,
tnen less frequently. the difficult and com.
pilcated life of literary labor taking us
each BIS own way. So the years passed
we met, shook hands. Everything 60
ing weli!" HSplendidly." And that was
all Then, later. | found the name of
Louis Mlraz but rarely in the journals
ana periodicals. Happy man; he is rest
ing said to myself, embering that
He was spoken OF as having made small
iortune Finally, last autumn, | learned
mat he was seriously ill.
hurried to see him. He still lived at
Tue pretty suburb; but on this somber day
Vi the last of November the little house
seeined cold, and looked naked among the
e''iiess trees. 1t seemed to me shrunken
ana amin. shed, like everything that we
nase not seen for Il long time
Inc dog Was probably dead, for his bark
uo longer answered the sound of the bell
Mheh passed the little gate aud entered
.'e garden. all strewn with dead leaves
where the nights frost had withered the
iast chrysanthemums
IL was not his wife-she was absent-it
was Helen who received ma-Helep. who
naa grown to be great girl of Ii, with an
awkward manner She opened for me the
G I;e.. Oh her fathers study, aud brusquely
"''ns her great black eyelas,,es turned
0n i,ie tlmid and distressed glance
FOUND Miraz huddled in an easy chair
III .he corner of the fireplace, wrapped in "a
i i OF bedgown, with gray locks streak
lug us long hair, and by the cold, clammy
anu which he reached toward me, by the
ta''Iu lace whice he turned upon me, |
anew that he was lost Horrible! found in
i ns unhappy comrade that worn aud ruined
80 winch used to strike us formerly
among the poor Poles we used to see.
I'LL well, old man, things are not going
ueuceuly bad, my boy" he answered.
WIN he2rtbreaking smile. 81 am gong