Capital journal. (Salem, Or.) 1893-1895, 1894-06-20
MY NEIGHBOR.

a IaU1RuluS journey up BIN lOuB,
winding flights of stairs carried me to
the door of the room l occupied in -
street; but, no matter for the name of
the street, no one, l am confident, will
visit London for the express purpose of
satisfying himself that l am to be de-
pended upon, and that there is house
of SO many stories in Lambert street.
Here I lived in enjoyment of no end of
fresh air, especially in winter, and a
brilliant prospect up and down the
street and over the roofs of the houses
across the way.
l was studying painting at that time,
learning to paint the landscapes and
figure pieces which produce with SO
much ease and dispose of with so much
difficulty
At the head of the last flight of stairs
in my lodging house was narrow pas
sage way, in which 1 was obliged to stop
and recover my breath after finish
ing, much wearied, the 139 steps
that led to my paradise, before l could
get my key into its lock, and into this
passage way opened two doors, one OF
which, of course, belonged to my room,
and the other to some one else's. But
who this some one else was / was un-
able to find out Was it man or wom-
an? l was persuaded it must be wom-
an, and as woman / always used to
think of her and speak of her to myself,
and l thought and spoke of her often
enough.
Of course I could have settled the
question at once by knocking at her door
and asking for match or by inquir-
ing of my landlord, who occasionally
honored me with friendly call, but !
scorned resorting to such methods
Every time l heard the door shut
resolved she should not go out again
without my seeing her, and 1 nearly fell
into the street as frantically attempt
ed to reach far enough out of my win
dow to see her as she came out at the
street door.
Was she young and pretty and good?
What did she do, and what was her
name? My thoughts were perpetually
running up those six flights and stop
ping baffled at her close shut door.
1 drew ideal portraits of her in my
idle moments, introduced them into all
NV pictures and would often finish out
an accidental face in study of rocks,
much to my instructors surprise and
nv fellow students amusement.
The only communication L ever had
with people in the house was an occa-
sional conversation with the dust color
ed old woman who cleaned the windows
and swept the halls.
A day came for cleaning my windows
when it rained heavily, and could not
give the old woman a clear stage by 60
ing out for couple of hours but told
her to clean away and be as lively as
she could, while sat there and painted.
Lodgers, she told me as she polished
MP the panes, came and went so 1ast
that she forgot one when another came
and never knew any of their names.
She had an eye for character, though,
and told me the peculiaritles of some OF
them in quaint way, mailing her sen.
fences now and then with odd, hard
words, independently of the general
text.
"Gentleman who's under you keeps
'imself quite to 'imself," she said
"Plants out queer sasses in boxes all the
time an some of 'em Gp the balcony it.
self P'r'aps makes kinder tea OF 'em,
or root drink Decoctifies
"And who is in the room below that?"
I inouired. more to make her talk than
to satisfy any curiosity ! had ON the
subject
Empty now. Two dark little gentle
men 'ad it for fortnight-Jews, fan
cy-an as like one another as two spots
o. dirt on this ere pane o. glass. spoke
a, hard billed kind O. tongue AN was FUR
riners, most likely Polyanders.
| might have asked her about my
next door neighbor, but refrained for
fear my pretty romance would be de,
stroyed by description of middle aged
spinster who wore glasses and wrough'
green roses in crewel work.
When she had finished the windows
and gathered up her brushes and pals,
she paused an instant TO give a pack
ward glance at her completed task. The
sun had broken through the clouds anc
rested tenderly ON the STOPPING figure o.
the old woman in her faded rags
"What a picture" ! thought lnvol
untarily. Then aloud said, "Will yoV
come some time and let me paint you
Maggie?"
"Mep' she cried, startled
Eyes, just as you are now, scrubblnl
brushes and all viii you conner
cried, my enthusiasm rising
''Lawl Why dye want to paint a
old woman like me, Mr.. Carroll, wit
face wrinkled like peach pitt Wh
don't you paint pretty girli Old VIC
men are painted though sometimes, bu
only to make 'emselves look young Ager
Ha, hal''
IL was useless TO argue the point wit
her, 30 only eaid: