Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1896-10-17

western army and the peculiar terror of
the red man. newspaper portrait of
him, which appeared bald through a defect
in the plate, led to the rumor that he had
been scalped, and thousands of people were
thus induced to buy his book. The SIN
Sularly lurid coloring of the 42d street
Indian shines out in Dyer's description Of
war paint, and lends horrid realism to
the tale which has been marked by many,
but fully appreciated. L believe. by no one
except myself.
If there Is one thing that is certainly
worth money to man in these days. 1t
is advertising, and Dyer had an abundance.
Offers from publishers came thick and fast
IN the wake of it, and my friend was we'll
to do Greatly to my sorrow, he married,
and l saw less and less of him; for, though
he urged me to come 10 his home. / went
very seldom, having taken violent dislike
to Mrs Dyer. Then he moved away from
the city for reasons that scanned excellent
when he presented them to NE, though
Selhshly urged him to remain, for / had
become very much attached to him. 1t fp-
peared that he was overwhelmed With lit
erary engagements which re thought it
would be easier for him to fulfill if he could
have the quiet of the country. Also, he
was entertaining many of his Wife's rela-
tons, and they had begun to be a burden
upon him, notwithstanding The comfortable
size of his income.
He bought an abandoned farm in the
wiids of the Berkshire hills. and made a
habitable dwelling of the rude old farm
house. We maintained a desultory cor
respondence as long, fancy, as nature will
have such things live. and then i knew
no more of him. except by paragraphs in
the papers. and by his published writings
which appeared in great and increasing
profusion.
About two years after his withdrawal
into seclusion 1 came to know his cousin
Miss Emily Dyer, a charming young wo-
man, who had been thrown upon her own
resources by the death of her parents.
and was struggling to maintain herself
in New York She had secured a position
as "retoucher'' in photographers es-
tablishment, and her leisure was given to
drawing and painting Her work was hard
her wages very small, and, to cap the
climax Of misfortune, the photographer
had fallen IN love with her. / would have
rescued her from all these hardships and
periis by the simple process of matrimony:
but, unhar PLY, she did not care for me-
Her affections were fixed upon a tall, tow
headed youth who was studying art but
had not yet learned to draw a salary.
Even by the light of their own roseate hopes
1t seemed likely that they might have to
wait year or two before the young man
should become rich and famous; and. in
the meantime, 1 thought that Bertram
Dyer. the nearest relative of the girl.
ought to help her along.
/ wrote to him upon the subject, and
received a reply ten days later. 1t was a
refusal, and he had dictated it to a stem
oyrapher, The thing read like a circular
about foreign missions. I would have
thought ii forgery, gotten up by his
wife, but for the unrnis takable Dyer sigma
ture. Such little. fine-lined. codly regu-
lar characters, Why had l not long ago
read his true nature in mis- parsimonious
chirography. Yet l had thought him one
of the most generous and tenderly sympa-
thetic of men. Could success change a
human creature so completely? 1 could not
credit II, yet on the chance that 1t was
true, l was moved to thank God that he
had made me failure.
After spending a day or two in an en-
deayor to digest Bertram's letter. j went
to see Emily. We were just as good friends
as If / hau never given her the annoyance
of refusing me- She was i'll and could
not receive me. Upon leaving the house
where she was boarding. I perceived the
flaxeE-haired artist patrolling the other
side of the street. mutual sorrow often
unttes the bitterest enemies. / accosted
my successful rival and offered him a
cigar. which he received quite in the way
of friendship.
II don't believe it's anything serious
he said. in an anxious tone. She is
tired: thatS all. If she could only go out
into the country and rest for awhile
1 quite agreed with his unspoken con-
clusion. but though we walked together
till after midnight and talked of nothing
else, We did not succeed In reaching a
solution of the difficulty.
The next day / set out on a pilgl image
to the Berkshire mills.
Bertram DyerS retreat was situated in
railroad station was ten miles away, In the
town of lockwood. There 1 ali2hted one
evening. and secured lodgings in a quaint
little hotel kept by three old maids. That
one of them who does the cooking should
be earning $4,000 year in New York
and wearing the Gordon bleu." Her hot
biscuits appeal to all that is highest and
noblest in i mans nature. He who be-
gins the day with them can hardly descend
to the level of ignoble act before sun
set-wflen he can have some more.
Being fortified for task that promised
many difficulties, 1 rode away from the
hotel in lockwood about 0 o'clock in the
morning. mounted upon a bicycle which
had brought from New York. I had re-
eeived careful directions regarding the road,
which, indeed. was easy enough to follow,
since there was no other. 1t was in excel
lent condition, and. despite the hills,
might have made the ten miles at good
speed, but / stopped frequently to admire
the scenery. which was always beautiful,
and sometimes had the effect of grande IT.
There were points in the road from which
I could command wide prospect, and once,
at about six miles distance, 1 got n glimpse.
of Bertram's house. With the aid of strong
field glasses I could see 1t quite distinctly.
and 1t seemed a pleasant place in which to
I've and write.
I reached the border Of my friends estate