Western liberal. (Lordsburg, N.M.) 1887-1919, 1893-02-03

ana then to himself, and finally tossed
It back carelessly.
"The unconsciousness Of geniusr7
whispered Addie in my ear, just rs
he turned upon us.
"Who owns this hookg7
l modestly answered that ] had that
great pleasure.
"Great pleasure, hey? She calls it a
pleasure, Toni Heml / suppose /
ought to feel complimented; but | don't.
Young lady, will you do me one fayorY'
"What is It, sir.'
Put that stupid trash into tho fire.
stupid trashl' cried Addio, aghast,
enatching mp the volume.
Yes, / wrote it. I was q boy-and.
by George. my publishers took II ont Of
my desk and went mad over it, while
they actually Turned up their noses at
my report Of the poor laws-would You
believe it,
My urc'o looked sympathizing. Addio
arrange The ice cream glasses before
him without q word.
"But, sir. look at tho fame you have
won" 1 remarked.
"Heml famc-it's q rag huttering on
n bash; / wouldn't give a button for it.
Five thousand dollars a year viii keep
you wei clothed and well fed-fame
won't"
He helped himself to an ice.
There was no reply. The two gentle
men resumed their political discussion,
waxing so warm in the defense of their
favorite views that they We're in a fair
way TO clear the tray between them.
Addie caught up the condemned volume
Of poems and vanished from the ROOM.
1 followed her. She fed up the stairs
like n fairy, and found her in thepoets
chamber, stripping the roses from the
vases with frantic haste.
"What on earth are you aboutY' ]
asked, hating on tho threshold in amaze
ment.
He shall not have Il of them" sho
said, half crying. "His curtains shall
not be Topped up with them-I have a
great mind TO tie them back with rope
yarn. To think how we worked all the
day to give him pleasure, and after all
he only cares about eating and drinking,
and being an alderman. Oh, it is too
badl'
burst out laughing and ran down
stairs. Tho contrast between our
dreams Of the poet and the poet as ho
was was rich. had to wait q moment
in the hall to get my face into company
order" and then, pushing open the half
closed door, l went back into the parlor
At FIRST sight / thought it was empty.
The chairs were pushed away from the
table,, and there was a faint smell Of
~cigars-had they actually been smoking
there? No; l heard my uncle pacing up
and down the garden, as was his wont
each evening, and the fragrance Of the
weed came that way, but he was alone.
Where was the poet?
l caught sight Of him at last, sitting
at the open window with the rose col
ored curtains falling in soft folds around
him. The moon was up, shining glori-
ously upon the grassy yard beneath
him; the night wind rustled in the
leaves Of the naples above his head.
Addie, coming into the ROOM, paused at
the sight Of my uplifted finger on the
threshold.
1t had been all a "sham' then! Our
putli bipusA Il ncaily eater SUN re-
tanned his love Of the beautiful. What
ON earth had made him talk such heresy,
when he sat raped in enjoyment, never
stirring, scarcely breathing, as he
watched that glorious moon? I would
steal softly to his side, pause, try to
convict him and make him recaut all
the fbs he had told about these beaati-
ful blossomings of his youth-the poems.
The carpet was thick and soft, and it
mufled my football effectually, and l
stood beside him unnoticed. His face
was hidden by his arm. Iheard a chok-
ing sound-he was weeping. My heart
melted in a gush of pity; l laid my hand
upon his shoulder as sympathizingly as
l could; he started a little; his head set
tied down upon one side, exposing his
face; the month opened, and-he snoredi
The next morning / started on my trip
to the west, and from that day to this I
have never met a ''poet."-M. w. C. in
New York News.