The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1893-07-17
wIsDom rHRouaH nxrnR1ENoE
Mons. Poujol Has a Business Trans
action With a Fellow Philosopher.

and the odors Of the large bouquet he car
ried permeated and swectened the heated
atmosphere.
"Monsieu r, said the doctor, as he re-
moved his coat and waistcoat, and strug-
gled with his collar. "see what lovely
flowers patient has given TO me TO take
to my wife"
The doctor knowing well the sympathe-
tic and artistic nature of the learned bar
Der, expected some admring response,
but instead the latter only sighed very
deeply. As he fitted the apron snUgly un-
der the doctors chin NJ. lie barber said;
Monsieur, tell me, are the skies as blue
to-day as usual2'
surely" replied the doctor. Cant
you see that there isn't a spech on the
heavens IL is a wonderfully fine day
And the sun shines as brightly, and
the air is as pure and wholesome, and the
flowers smell as sweetly, and the women
are as lovely as ever|'
Why, of course. You are not i'll,
monsieur2 Let me feel your pulse"
mo, no. monsieur, sadly; lit is not
that. ladmit l am somwhat disturbed,
that the loneliness of nature does not APP
peal to me, that my heart lies heavy and
crushed within my bosom. 1t is strange,
very strange. l thought l had become
steeled to the cruelties of this harsh
world, and that my philosophy was supe-
nor TO my emergencies. But, alas. mon
sieur there are some blows which even
the philosopher cannot Immediately sus-
tain with proper calmness and indiffer-
ence / have had life of many expert
ences, monsieur, and have suffered much,
| but"
Good heavensu' exclaimed the doctor,
| half rising in his seat, you don't mean,
monsieur, that your family
No, no, not that" said the barber;
| my family, thanks to a divine provi-
| dence, is well, quite we'll, l thank you.
No, monsieur, the shock which has turn
ed my usually blithes0me spirits into dark
and dreary channels came from without
Monsieur, | must confess frankly that
am disappointed in finding that the phil
OsOphy which has supported me for these
many years should now suddenly desert
me. That is almost as great a blow to
| my pride as the affair itself is to my tend
erer emotions. 1t troubles me l fee
shall be a wiser man for all this, mon
sieur, but at present it comes hard. NV
susceptibilities have been sorely wound
| ed. If you will sit up a little higher,
monsieur. So, that is better Much off
to-dayH'
AS usual" said the doctor
"Ah, as usual. Very we'll monsieur
| Your mustache is developing finely You
] may oODI NC pIOuu VI IL. AL, Wei, IL rs
| a strange world, monsieur. | feel little
| better for having spoken to you thus
| frankly. | viii now relate to you the
! circumstances that have cOnspired to
make me so unhappy You probably re
! member, monsieur, the man whom | have
| always addressed as professor He is the
| very handsome man with the golden
/ beard cut a Ia Henri ". He was, If YOU
| will remember, a very witty man, and
] a lys-nyrG cd
/ he was here. He spoke French almost
/ without accent and was fine converse
/ tlOnallSt l had Il great regard for that
! man, monsieur. We have discussed phil
! osophy and art together many, many
! times, and | thought ! detected in him
a sympathy for the sentiments which
! have been the result of my lifelong
study and of my devotion to the ideal,
| have seen tears in his eyes monsieur, when
! outlined my theory of the eternity Of
art and the oneness of its various
! visible forms, so long as they had in them
| the essence of arts first principle truth.
! And when it came to philosophy, mon
sieur, | was convicted that l had in this
man pupil worthy of his teacher-one
who appreciated those inmost truths
| which are revealed only to the most pa.
tient Investigation. All monsieur.
learned to love this man almost as a SON
| said to myself, Henri you are fortunate
in having so worthy pupil TO perpetuatC
and spread to the world the fruits Of your
| unbTOkcn devotion to the artistic and the
! lessons of nature. When the time comes
! for your departure from this state of care
and worry you can so with the satisfac-
ton which comes from the knowledge
that effort has not been wasted The
professor win take up your work where
| you left it, and, depend upon it, he VIII
carry IL On. Monsieur, when | think of
! what has tranSpired since then, it seems
as though my faith in human nature was
| gone beyond recall. l know my philoso-
! ply will yet bring me back from the
| gloomy depths of this newborn pessim-
| ism. but at present well, l must not di-
! gress again. You viii pardon me, mon
| sieur.
1t was just a week ago to-day-Wed-
! ncsday mOrning-that | saw this migrate
| for the last time. He came in here early,
! and l was greatly pleased to see MIN.
! As usual, trimmed his beard myself.
| It would be telling only the truth to say
| that l expended on him my very best eff
| forts. You see, monster, | was inspired
i by my affection for him to unusual zeal,
and result was more artistic than | would
ordinarily be capable of. | assure you,
! that beard was the chef d'Ruvre. 1t is a
| pity it could not have been immOrtaliZed
| on canvas or in marble. AS | worked we
! talked of philosophy and of art, and l
! gave to the beard the form and character
and life thata noble philosophers beard
! should possess. The professor remained
with me for more than an hour. When
! he was ready to go he thrust his hand in
! his trousers pocket, So A look of sur
/ prise and amaZement came into his face.
'Pesten he cried, how stupid of me F.!
| All, well. 1 suppose that comes from my
| dreaming. Monsieur, you will have to
| trust me for an hour or two | have for
| gotten my purse | viii return to my
| lodgings and get it, and then l will pay
| you
"All this he said with the most charm
| ing manner Nonsense l cried, do not
! bo5her yourself. Between philosophers
mere money does not enter into the ques-
| tion. If you are 50 disposed pay me the
next time you come
He smiled most graciously, thanked
me, and then started to go. Then he
stopped, looked thoughtful, and wrinkled
| his brow.
THAT is too bad, he said, thought
fully as though speaking to himself,
there is that bill | ought to pay. Let me
see: if go 10 my home on Eighty-fifth
street aud then way down town, the
greater part OF the daV viii be lost Still