The Valley Virginian. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1865-1895, 1892-07-07
think of her loving face and sweet

Gug gug! gugl 1t was that co
founded lamp; out it went, and put
period to my rhapsody.
Let us take it as a gentle hint to III
and not lovers omen," laughed Haro
pleasantly. | CROPPED about, found
candle, and told him good night. The
sought repose and dreamed real dream
haunted with Hates bright eyes an
silver treble laugh.
think have said that had review
ed for the Slosher in those days. 1t W;
poor stuff, and had long ceased to t
proud of it; but it provided my dali
bread, or rather my daily outlet and pir
of claret, and was at least homes
about it. certainly worked very har
at my learned reviews. and cramme
my subjects thoroughly. was Away
at work. Etheridge used to say {"
| worked like the devil, but without hi
| intelligence; the truth is, they wer
all little jealous of my position. For
was the "we" who taught Darwin sci
ence, instructed Tennyson in the law
of meter, and patronized George Eliot
1t was admitted, too, on all hands that
was excellent at turning out those read
able reviews that the public enjoy, ant
that used to drive weak minded author
to early graves in my time. Nowaday
weak-minded authors are difficult tt
drive; mores the pity. l was writing
something the next evening for Satur
days Sl0sher when Harold came in will
merry smile on his face. l saw nc
devitry in it then.
DO You want subject for one Of
your real good things p he asked. Here
is a new volume of poems just out they
are screamingly funny"
"Where did you get them ?" Iasked.
81 found them in a fellows room and
borrowed them for few days. No one
you know" he added hastily.
He handed me thin volume, daintily
got up in white-and gold boudoir bind
ing, lettered in scarlet ON the cover,
'Sighs from My Heart, by Sappho.'
"Modest young lady, isn't she?' sug-
gested the Saxon, quizzically.
IF she is lady, l replied senten>,
tiously, with the air of one who was too
old hand to jump at obvious conclu
sions.
Listen to this, them" cried Harold,
snatching tn. book from my hand, and
reading with very comic effect poem
addressed ITO My Hero" each verse of
which ended thus:
His locks are gold,
His looks are bold,
My Hero!
Just suits you, Penrose,n he said, as
he finished. 'You have red hair and
your looks are perfectly brazen."
who publishes it?' l said, smiling at
his vagaries. "Ah, see. Well, I'll run
through it, and if it is all like that stuff
it will come in useful. I've lot of dull,
solemn things here, nothing to make
fun off,
Now do write good one. Let us have
a specimen of your cayenne pepper pas
pers, as Crofts calls them. l shall come
in and keep you up to it.
His locks are gold,
His looks are bold,
My Heror'
Etheridge struck an attitude as he
recited this, laughed aloud at me in his
merry, highspirited way, and went off,
leaving me the volume.
l read the poems, and found them just
the weak sort of rubbish expected, and
off a notice of them. l sent down
to the publishers to find out why we had
not got copy of the Slasher, and was
told that it would come in on Friday.
l wanted something light for half a page,
SO did the ordinary kind of sneering,
smart review that the public chuck'es
over and enjoys. Even as I wrote it |
sighed to myself as often did, for never
grew callous about other peoples feels
ings, and | always blame an authors
friends as much as an author for the non
sense he publishes. l shall never forget
that review; every wretchel word of it is
burnt deep into my heart, and when |
the hundreds of equally just
notices must be fair myself-that
had written, l feel happy to have left
the trade to others who have less tender
and tougher hearts.
On Sunday morning rose early. l
had not slept well-I do not wish to pre-
tend l had. neither did eat good
breakfast, but l was awake to the neces
sity of dressing neutrality-suspicious.
carefully-and this I did. l strolled
northward toward Park Crescent, where
Mrs. Winterton lived. All the good peo-
pie were coming out of church and the
dinners were coming to meet them out
of the bake houses. 1t was a clear, frosty
morning. Every one seemed cheerful
and contented. 1 had never known Lon
don look so bright and happy. AS for
me, walked on air, erect, with swing
ing steps, smiling pleasantly at the
passers-by, for l did not know what
was before me.
OF course Mrs. Winterton was at home
to me, just as she had been for the last
ten Sundays at this hour. No one was
there, and she would be down in a min
ute. Jane smiled at me as usual, for
was a very regular visitor, and remem-
bered Jane handsomely in my Christ
mas boxes | walked through the draw
ing room into the boudoir, where | was
privileged to enter She would come
there, | knew. A copy of the Stasher
was lying on the table-cnt, too, l
noticed. | wondered if she had read my
article on "Romola" 1t was careful,
we'll considered thing, l thought. She
used often to say she could tell my hand
at once. Poor Kate!
saw, the moment she entered that
something was amiss. Women can hide
everything but tears-tell- tears. |
remember hearing an American girl say
she envied a baby its power of crying
for an hour or two and turning up fresh
at the bout. From feminine point of
view the accomplishment is nndoubt>
edly worth acquiring. We tried to talk,
but it was failure. l dare say was
nervous. but then so was Kate. She was
quite distraite, and not in the least her
own bright self. Instead of our usual