The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1892-11-02
MEETING A POET.

was busy one bright September
morning packing my trunks for my fall
removal from my uncles house in the
country to the marble fronted hotel on
Broadway that numbered me each win
ter among its inmates, when my cousin
Adelaide came dancing into the room
and commanded me to give up all
thoughts of journey for three months
| at least.
"And why, pray?" I asked. "You
know have to go out west after I reach
New York. Come what may, must
see an Indian summer on the prairies.
"Bother the prairies and the Indian
summer, too" cried Adelaide, taking
letter from her apron pocket and waving
| it in the air. 'sLook at the signature"
I did look, and might have been
looking to this day for all the informa-
ton got; but Adelaide grew impatient,
and snatching the letter from my hand
exclaimed:
.sListen, you goose" and read the let
ter aloud:
"sMY DEAR FRIEND am coming into
the country for a month or two; my
doctor positively forbids my staying in
New York during the fall. Remember
ing our old schoolboy league have Sc,
lected W as the place of my exile,
and shall be there on the 20th-wind
and weather permitting"
"What do you think Of that?" asked
Adelaide, making large eyes at me over
the top of the letter.
81 have not heard anything yet IT,
make me postpone my journey
"Wait moment-Ill finish 4 am,
as ever, yours faithfully
"Well, go on"
"sJames Quitman.'
flames Quitmani You are mad, Adj
die-he can never be coming here"
"There is the letter-father has always
known him, it seems; it is the poet, and
we are to have him stay here all the
time Father is to meet him at the sta
ton tonight, and not let him go to the
hotel on any account Won't people
stare when we walk into church next
Sunday
| closed the lid of my trunk in the
twinkling of an eye. The poet | had SO
often longed to see, the man over whose
tender verses had made myself Niobe
scores of times-was it possible that the
same roof was going to shelter us both?
Dinner was a thing unthought of in
the house that day, and my uncle lunched
meekly at one of the china closets off
cold meat and bread and preserved
strawberries, while Addie and actually
ate rose leaves and sugar and cream as
a suitable pendant to the work in which
we were engaged. Nothing less ethereal
would we partake while fitting up that
poets chamber.
By o'clock that afternoon our labors
were ended. The house was like bed
of roses; they blushed and bloomed
everywhere, and their fragrance was
delicious in the upper chamber. My
favorite pictures had been unpacked
and arranged upon the parlor walls.
Everything was perfect. The tea table
sparkled with silver and cut glass; flow
ers wreathed the dishes of preserved
fruit, and cake and wine for the evening
were ready on the sideboard, to say
nothing of some delicately tinted ice
cream which was still undergoing the
process of 'sfreezation" in the cellar.
Of course the train was late that night.
Trains always are late when we are ex-
pecting any one by them, and Addie and
I had time to work ourselves into fever
ish state that gave us some very becom-
ing red cheeks. We heard the whistle
of the train, and five minutes afterward
carriage stopped before the gate. The
poet had comet
He climbed out Of the carriage like a
crab-sidewise-and coming up the
graveled walk toward the front door,
presented to our admiring eyes the figure
of stoutish, middle aged man. with
dark eyes and hair and a very pleasant
smile. He did not wear Spanish cloak
and sombrero-he was clad in linen
garments and matched with a rough
looking straw hat that had evidently
seen service. We heard him as he came
up the walk.
every pretty house, Tom; very pretty
house. Those girls your daughters,
hey? sec they've got those horrid city
fashions-low neck and short sleeves. If
1 had daughter I'd sew her dress to
her ears"
Addie and looked at each other in
CONSERVATION and barely managed to
give him civil greeting as he crossed
the threshold. Was this the man who
had raved about his Lydia
That bosom, white and fond and fair.
would were the enamored air,
To faint and fall in passing there.
Low necks, indeed! sat beside him at
the tea table. as had been previously ar
ranged, and saw that all things were
within his reach. Never did Hindoo
idol tax his yotavy more severely. had
hardly time to snatch mouthful my
self-though, for the matter of that, his
appetite quite took away my own. He
was regular DIR. johnson for tea
strawberry preserves pleased him, and
soda biscuits vanished before his attack
as green things before the march of a
cloud OF locusts. Heaven knows he had
one qualifications stomach!