The World. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1891-1896, 1892-03-16
THELAUREL WREATH

Portable room Ia which we were sitting:
on the polished floor the light from tho
wood fire danced merrily between The
reflections Of the furniture; the lace
curtains hung white and soft, with here
and there rent skillfully darned be-
tween leaf and flower, while beyond
the curtains was seen theneatly trimmed
garden hedge.
Then as looked at my friend, stout,
calm and smiling, and remembered
what he had been when saw him last
excitable, high strung, music mad, his
nervous system like treble string that
Is ready to snap-I became convinced
that he spoke tile truth--he was per-
fectly happy. Nothing in his surround
ings indicated artistic tastes, unless
perhaps the piano, though that was
closed SO as to be utilized for holding
vases Of fresh flowers, and above it,
hanging TO the wall by faded blue rib
bon, was what looked like the skeleton
OF wreath, for single leaf, the last
remaining one, showed that it had been
made Of q branch Of laurel.
The sight awoke my memories, and
while Mark Antony poked the FIRE my
thoughts went back to the night Of his
triumph In his "Virgilian Symphony
he had set to music the very soul Of the
poet. combining IN d tempest Of orches-
tration the Bucolics and the Eneid
lowing Of cattle, the signing OF pine
trees IN the wind, the soft murmurs Of
fountains, then the trumpet blasts Of
Trojan warriors and the love sobs Of the
deserted Tyrian queen. That night, in
the midst OF thunders of applause, an
unknown woman, beautiful as god
dess. had presented to the young COM
poser, who was pale with pride and hope,
this laurel branch, plucked for him, it
was said. from Virgil's grave.
Unmindful of that night, Mark An
tony poked the fire vigorously. How
odd" he said, ''that you should have
stumbled against me by chance in this
out OF the way corner Of Francel You
wonder how came to exile myself In.
deed, | hardly know, but one day sud-
denly decided to go out of town for q
little while-just month or so--for
was sick Of Paris with It's rush and fever,
Of the endless routine Of an artists life,
Of weeks that had no Sundays nor an
interval Of rest.
y set of " rail and stopped here
merely because the name of the place
pleased me; it seemed to promise land
of calm forgetfulness, OF lazy rivers, Of
willow trees, of peaceful hills whose
tops were crowned with mists | was
not disappointed. but the most seduc.
tive of the charms found here was the
novel sensation of hearing distinct
sounds breaking complete silence: was
tired Of the internal din of Paris, a
thousand roars combined in one, and
never ceasing, and + was thrilled with
delight by the music of village church
bell, the ringing of an anvil, the sound
of the women washing clothes in the
brook and the report of sportsmans
rifle on the hillside.
Fate ordained that should meet an
old college mate. He was living as il
gentleman farmer on his family estate,
and had a niece who was pretty girl,
not very rich, it is true, but we pleased
each other in an unromantic way. ana
were married. 1t was not by any means
my intention to give up Paris entirely,
On the contrary, we spent two WHITES
there. The third year, however, or
courage failed, for my wife was not
very strong, and |, in my loose slippers
and corduroy jacket, thought gloomily
of always dining in evening dress and
making and receiving endless calls, of
yawning in the theater night after night.
''Then there were the children to think
Of, and we ought to economic. So, lit
tie by little, ! was weaned from city
life, until at last / seemed to see Paris
through a mist, and now it is to me a
far distantplace, to which do not know
the way. am thoroughly provincial
] have my wife, my children, q small
circle of friends who do not exact re-
turn in kind for every courtesy. shoot
little, fish a little, cut down my hay
and put it in my barn. That has been
my life for the last ten years
And the music?' / asked.
Oh, have not given 1t up entirely"
he said, with smile of embarrassment:
.'that portfolio in the corner is nearly
1880 AAeNNS DCE I'LL SCNcId1 WOIKS,
but nothing is finished, for somehow,
between ourselves, find that the in
toxicating Paris air is necessary for in
spiration. Your presence, however, viii
do just as well, and shall set to work
l ii earnest" 6
Poor Mark Antonyr' thought. At
that moment the door knocker sounded.
heard the servant go through the hall,
and then 3 lady Of prepossessing appear
ance entered the room, preceded by two
little boys dressed in sailor suits, their
cheeks like rosy apples and their calves
scratched and sunburned.
my wife," said Mark Antony, pre-
'senting rs to each other, and the LADY,
after bidding the children shake hands
with me, asked If would not stay to
dinner.
..Of course he win, not only today,