Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1896-08-01
T II e
THE
PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY.
or OSCAR WILDE,
CHATTER T.

TOStS, duu when tNt llRUL summer WllO
stirred amid the trees Of the garden there
cam through the open door the heavy scent
of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume Of
the pink Towering thorn.
From the corner Of tho divan OF Persian
saddle-bags on which he YVES lying, smoking,
- usual, innumerabie cigarettes, Lord
Henry Wotten could Just catch the CLEAN
Of the honey-sweet and honey-colored bios
SONS of the laburnum, whose tremulous
branches seemed hardly able 10 bear tho
burden Of a beauty 50 flame-like as theirs
and now and then the fantastic shadows Of
birds in fight fitted across the long tussore-
silk curtains that were stretched in front Of
the huge window, producing a kind Of
momentary japanese effect, and making him
think Of those pallid iade-faced painters, who,
In an art that is necessarily immobile, seek
10 convey the sense Of swiftness and motion.
The sullen murmur OF the bees shouldering
their way through the long unmown grass,
or cifrlinR with inonotonous insistence
round the black-crocketed spires of the
early June hollyhocks, seemed 10 make the
stiffness more oppressive, and the DIM roar
OF London was like the bourbon note of o
distant organ
In the center Of tho room, clamped 10 an
upright easel, stood the full-length portrait
Of a young man Of extraordinary personal
beauty, and in front Of il, some little dis
lance away, was sitting the artist himself.
Basil Hallward, whose sudden disappear
ance some years ago caused, at the time,
such public excitement, and gave rise TO so
many strange coniectures.
As he looked at the gracious and comely
FORM ha Had 10 cLil1 fttlIy rni,-,.nraI - hic arf
b smile Of pleasure passed across his face,
and seemed about to linger there. But he
suddenly started up, and, closing his eyes,
placed his fingers upon the lids, as though
he sought TO imprison within his brain some
curious drear! from which he feared he
might awake.
1T is your best work, Basil; the best
thing you have ever done, said Lord Henry,
~languidly. "You must certainly send it
next year to the Grosvenor. The Academy
Il too large and too vulgar. The Grosvenor
Is the only place"
IL don't think | will send it anywhere
be answered tossing his mead back In that
odd way that used To make his friends
laugh at him at Oxford. "No; / won't send
II anywhere"
Lord Henry elevated his eyebrows, and
looked at him In amazement through tho
thin blue wreaths Of smoke that curled up
In such fanciful whirls from his heavy
opium-tainted cigarette. mot send IL any.
wherel My dear fellow, whyl Have you
any reasonl What odd chaps you painters
are! You do anything in the world 10 gain
a reputation. AS soon as you have one. you
seem TO want 10 throw it away. II is silly
Of you, for there is only one thing in the
world worse than being talked about and
that is not being talked about. A portrait
like this would set you far above all the
young men in England, and make the old
men quite jealous, If old men are ever capa-
BILE Of any emotion
II know you will laugh at me, he replied,
but | really can't exhibit it. / have put
too much Of myself intoit."
Lord Henry stretched his long legs out on
the divan and shook with laughter.
"Yes. l knew you would laugh; but it is
quite true, all the same"
TOO much OF yourself in il! Upon nv
word, Basil, l didn't know you were so vain t;
and | really can't see any resemblance be-
tween you, with your rugged strong face
and your coal-black hair, and this young
Adonis, who looks as il he was made Of
worry and rose leaves, Why, my dear Basil.
I be Is, n ,Nerctssrs Aerds ycn y-sn3.-s4s~Ws
IA in itself an exaggeration, and destroys TN
harmony of the face. Tn moment one siu
down TO think. one ecomes all nose, anu IA
forehead, or something horrid. LOOK AT th'
successful men In any OF the learned pro
ressions. How perfectly hideous they are
except, Of course, in the Church. But thei
m the Church they don't think. A olsho'
keers on saying at the age Of eighty VIVA
he was told 10 say when he was a boy Q
eighteen. and consequently he always look
absolutely delightful. Your mysterlou
young friend, whose name you have neve
told me. but whose picture really fasclnate
me, never thinks. l feel quite sure OF tina
I He is a brainless, beautiful thing, WI
should be always here in winter when W
have no flowers to look at, and always her
in summer when we want something to chi
our intelligence. Don't fatter yourself
Basil; you are not in the least like him."
! "You don't understand me, Harry. F,
1 course | am not like him. know thai pc
fectly well. Indeed, / should be sorry
q look like him. You shrug your shoulder
I am telling you the truth. There Is
fatality about all physical and intellectu
QlStlnCllOu, tut SOTI Vi laNaAA'y ~"
to dog through history the faltering steps
l. kings. II is better not to be different Iro
L ones fellows. The ugly and stupid ha'
II the best of it in this world They can s
quietly and cape at the play. II they kno
ID nothing Of victory, they are at least spar
A. the knowledge Of defeat. They live AZ '
all should live, undisturbed, Indifferent, al
: without disquiet. They neither bring ru
:. upon others nor ever receive 1t from all
y hands. Your rank and wealth. Harry; !
y brains, such as they are; my fame. whateV
u it may be worth; Dorian Gray's good loo
e" we all suffer for what the gods have Civ
u Us. suffer terribly"
lie dorian Grayi is that his name'" 81
n Lord Henry, walking across the studio
SO ward Basil Hallwari.
til .sYes; that is his name. didn't intend
he tell il TO you"
'.But why nots"
"Oh. l can't explain. WhonI like peo'
n. immensely I never tell their names TO q
"a ,ne. 1t seems like surrenderiug a part
80 them. You know how l love secrecy.
~ % the only thing that can make modern
to wonderful or mysterious to us. The c.
,us nonest thing is delightful IL one o
ms hides IL. When leave town ] never
INV people where I am going. IL 1 dc
rd' would lose all my pleasure. 1t Is a $
Nc. habit, I dare say. but somehow 1t seems
Ia bring a great deal Of omance into ones
the { suppose you think mo awfully foo
about itf"
in "Not at ALL" answered Lord Horny,
en- ny his hand upon his shoulder; mot ut
INV dear Basil. You seem to forget tn
am married, and the one charm OF MARI
his IS that it makes Q life Of deception neces'
.ht, Tor both parties. / never know where
fol. wife is, and my wife never knows WI
bef am doing. When we meet-we do meet
~asionally, when we din out together Of
ths Down to the d~uke's-we tell each other
most absurd stories with the most serio'
ii. faces. My wife il very good at It'll
e Is better, in fact, than ! am. She never
/ OF confused over her dates, n l always
ugD But when she does find me out, she m
.ne 10 row at all. Isometimes wish she W.
ex- but she merely laughs at me-"
~ hate the way you talk about
pro- married life, Harry said Basil Hallv
mas shaking his hand OF. and stroiling to-
'irl' the door that led into the garden. l De
nan hat YOU are really . very good hust
ns. but that you are thoroughly ashame
ths vour own virtues. You arc an extra
80 .-~-AI q