Middletown transcript., 1894-05-12

name OF lne
u1 street; no one,
am confident, will visit London for the
express purpose of satisfying himself
that am to be depended upon, and
that there is house of so many stories
in Lambert street. Here | lived, ir
enjoyment of no end of fresh air, es.
pecialy in winter, and a brilliant pros
pect 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
figurepieces which | produce with SC
much ease and disposed of with so much
difficulty.
At the head of the last fight OF
stairs in my lodging house was a mar
row passage way in which | was obliged
= to stop and recover my. breath, after
finishing he SO SO steps that led led ttte III
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 was was unable to find out.
Was it man or woman? was per-
suaded it must be woman, and as a
wo man always used to think of her
and speak of her to myself-and 1
thought and spoke of her often
enough.
Of co lrse, / could have settled the
question at once by knocking at her
door and asking for match, or by in
qniling of my landlord, who OCCASION
ally honored me with friendly call,
but | scorned resorting to such
methods.
Every time | heard her door shut
resolved she should not 60 out agail.
without my seeing her, and | nearly
fell into the street as l frantically at
tempted to reach far enough out of The
window to see her as she came out of
the street door.
Was she young ard pretty and good?
What did she do? aud what was her
name? My thoughts were perpetually
running up and down those six flights
and stopping bafied at her close-shut
door.
drew ideal portraits of her in my
idle moments, introduced them into
all my pictures, and would often finish
out an accidental face in a study Of
rocks, much to my Instructions amuse-
ment.
The only communication I ever had
with people in the house was an occas-
innal conversation with the dust-col-
ored old woman who cleaned the win
dows and swept the halls.
A day came for cleaning my windows
when it ined heavily, and could not
give the old woman clear stage by 60
ing out for couple of hours, but told
her to clean away and be as lively
as she could, while l sat there and
painted.
10 !gers, she told me, as she polished
up the panes, game and went SO fast
that she forgot nne when another
came. and never knew any of their
names.
he had an eye for character, though,
and told me the peculiarities OF some
of them in a quaint way, mailing her
sentences, 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 on the bal
coDy itself. P'r'aps e makes kinder
tea of them, or root drink. Decocti:
Ges;''
And who in the room below that2
inquired, more to make her talk than
to satisfy any curiosity | had on the
subject.
.Empty now. Two dark little gen.
tlemen 'ad it for fortnight-Jews, l
fancy-and as like one another as two
spots of dirt ON this ERE pane Of glass.
'spoke a hard billed bind of tongue
ahd" was fnrrinefs, MOST likely Poly-
anders.''
1 might have asked her about my
next door neighbor, bnt refrained for
for fear my pretty romance would be
destroyed by description Of a middle
aged spinstpr, who wore glasses AND
who wrought green roses in cre"el-
work.
When she had finished the windows
and gathered up her brushes and pals,
she paused an instant to give PACK
ward glance at her completed task
The sun had broken through the cloud,
and rested tenderly on the STOPPING
GG,,i GGgare of the old woman ln heF faded tl {
rags.
What a picture2 | thought, lnvol'
UNFAIRLY; then aloud, | said; Will you
come some time and let me paint you,
Maggie2"
rMer, she cried, startled.
Eyes, just as your are now' scruo.
bing brushes and all. Wili you cohe'
] cried, my enthusiasm rising.
.raw, why dye want to paint an
o,d woman like me, Mister Carroll,
with a face wrinkled like peach pit.
Why don't you paint pretty grill
o,d women arepaintei though, some