The star. (Reynoldsville, Pa.) 1892-1946, 1894-09-19

ing For Posterity-A Pretty Little Skit
written In the English Noveiists mimi
table style.
I know him for several years before
his death. When | first made his nc
quaintancc, he was already an old man.
He was also, as was evident from the
first, very poor man. He went about
shabbily dressed. He carried biscuits
in his pocket to the reading room on
which he lunchcd or took snacks ut in
teryals during tho day. Perhaps he had
dinner afterward, but | always suspect
ed his dinner to be an uncertain and
movable feast IL was understood that
he was something in the literary way
got TO know him by sitting next to
him day after day. We exchanged the
amenities of the reading room, apollo
gized for crowding each other with
books, abused the takers, remarked on
the impudenco of those who go to the
room in order to flirt and SO forth.
When | got TO know him better,
made little discoveries about him, as,
for instance that he liked a glass of
beer in the middle of the day and that
he could not afford the twopence lmay
say, not boastfully, that | was able to
offer him this little luxury. We used
to go out together for the purpose He
was good enough to take an interest in
my work. lie proved to have aconsider-
able knowledge Of books and gave me
considerable help in this way.
One Sunday | met him in the street
We stopped to speak. He lamented the
closing of the museum on Sunday. For
his own part, he said, he would have
the reading room open every day in the
week. Why close the avenues of knowl-
edge? Why damn the fountains and
springs of wisdom? So we walked and
talked. He was perfectly dignifod III
his manner, though his great coat wa'
so thin and shabby that one might be
ashamed to be seen with him. He stop
ped presently at the door of house in
High street, Holborn.
81 lodge here" he said. Twill you
come up stairs and see my hermitageT"
remember that he called it grandly
his hermitage. He led the way; the
stairs were dark and dirty; he took me
to the fifth, or fifty fifth, floor. He liv-
ed in the back attic.
"This," he said, ''is the cell of the
recluse. live here quite retired. There
are other dodgers, l believe, but l do
not know them. l live here with my
library in simplicity. The air is whole
some at this height"
He threw open the window and sniff
ed the fragrance of the neighboring
chimneys. The room was clean; the
furniture was scanty; there was no fire
in the CRATE; on shelf were about 90
boolls-his library. The man looked per-
fectly contented with his hermitage.
There were no papers ON the table,
nothing to show that he was q writer.
do not know how he lived-certain-
ly he did no work at the museum-but
he never borrowed. In one corner stood
wooden chest He lifted the lid and
nodded and laughed.
"Ahal" he said, ''now 1 am going to
reveal secret. You didn't know, no.
body at the museum knows, the people
in the house don't know, that l am
what do you think?-a poet. 1t is 30
years since l paid for the publication
of my collected poetical works. Yes,
sir, and am going not only to commu-
nicate this secret to your honor-in safe
keeping-but to present you with a
copy. There, my young friendp" He pro-
duced thin volume. II am Paul the
Wanderer. In fact the title page bore
the legend, COLLECTED Poetical Work
of Paul the Wanderer.
Thirty years." he repeated. ''There
were 500 copies. The press received 90,
the public bought four; there remained
446. have now given you one. There
now remain 446. l have bequeathed
these to the public libraries of the ma
tion. Sir, you are young. You will
yourself perhaps publish your poems.
Remember for your comfort that il
takes so years, or two generations,
for the noblost poets to take their
proper place. Greatness-true, stable,
solid greatness, not the empty applause
given to an ephemeral favorite-re-
quires 80 years at least. Go, siri Take
the book have given you, and in after
years, when am gone, tell tho world
that you knew-Paul the Wandererp'
wrung his hand in silence and left
him. More than 80 years have passed
since he published that work. No one
has yet spoken to me of Paul the Wan
derer. But now understood his digni-
ty, his self respect and his content He
was anticipating and enjoying his fu-
ture fame He was living for posterity.
Present poverty and neglect were moth
ing-Walter Besant in London Queen.
Another Mammoth Statue.
The sculptor Nikolaus Geiger is put