The Opelousas courier., 1897-01-23

W : ;:;;; ; ;:: IL; a.; 4. 8: 9
0 Injury and princely prodiealiiy
{ became unmlndful that his own roo
was q little attic apartment, with L
carpet, L char, a rough table,
narrow conch AMI Il tallow dip. No
he grouped the characters together
thee pairs of lovers, juvenile lover
and elderly whimsical lovers-aud th
0 curtain amid such witty lines as d,
, light q Partisan audience. The pla
was completed ana Claude was-hu1
CRY. 1t is Il thing to be hungry an
another thing to be abe to appeas
hunger. Claude ruminated mournfu.
~ upon the felicity of ali the charuc
tiers of the piece, blessed with abun
dance, and upon his own misery
Poet and dramstist! Had he know
what was in store for him be Womb
have learned q trade. "All the sam,
I shall 60 to bed without any supper,
commented Claude, casting hungry
glances at the candle and being in /
frame of mind to appreciate all The
marvellous tales he had read Of ship
wrecked mariners and their appet!teE
for all manne of miscellaneous arti.
cles, such as q bit OF shoe. This train
OF thought was interrupted by a knock
at the door.
"Come in" said Claude, and a stout
man, with a rather forid face, fash.
ionably dressed, entered. He bowed
politely, surveying the room with con-
siderable surprise.
"M. Claude Morain?" he asked.
"Ies, SIR answered the poet.
81 come on q business matter. sir"
every well; be seated"
And Claude handed him the only
chair, sitting on the couch himself.
The visitor busted the chair carefully
and then proceeded to occupy it gin
gerly.
"Whet can I DO for your" asked the
young man.
"You are a poet, UNDERESTIMATE"
81 have written poems, Sir"
"Well, l want to engage your SER
vices. l want you to write me n
poem g day and I'll pay you well for
it. Let me see; I'll pay you ten francs
a poem
Ten francs a day! Claude thought
he was dreaming. But he stroap to
conceal his Joy and inquired as csldly
as possibly:
"What magazine do you own, nay
I ask"
"None."
"What newspapCr?'
"None."
"But I don't understand"
Il want the poem for myself. They
will not be published"
"Will you explain furthar:"
"Well, you see, NJ. Claude, the
matter stands just like this. I am paw
ing attention to a certain young lady;
that young lady is sentimental, ro.
mantle, full Of m%oonshine and non
sense. I must win her, for she is not
only beautiful and nr~istocratic, but
has a considerable fortune. Now. l
don't seem to have made as much
progress as | should have done, 60 I've
made up my mind to feed her. mood
upon rhymes, iambics, verses, stanzas,
lyrics and so on. I can't write them
myself, but that doesn't matter. One
can always buy what lie wants in this
if he has money. So my PROPOSE
ton is this: Taking ont his PURSE
You are to writo ono poem q day,
such as q lover wouIa address to q 70.
girl just out Of school. These
poems | propose to send"
"Anl she will conclude YOU wrote
asked the amused and vet an
noyed poet.
"Why not"
"ReaIly, sir, you are a novel kin
Of lover"
"Confess that it was a good stroke
Of diplomacy" laughed the visitor.
ITO deceive a girl?"
"Pooh! She'll set over her roman.
tic fancies. All women do. You hes.
tate? Think of what ten francs will
10 for you every day. 1t will bny YOU
to eat and plenty to drink. Be-.
if you don't do it, someone else
will, for I'm bound to carry her off
rom all my riEsls."
"Well, I conFct. The first noem
will be ready tomorrow. Now what
8 she like?"
"Rather tall, good looking, yes, a
turning grill"
"But," said the poet, II must have
ur!her details. What color are her
yes?"
II don't know"
"And her hair?"
"A sort of a brown, I think"
"What flowers does she prefer7"
"dow can l tell?"
"What books does she like3" {
81 never asked her." /,
"What Is her favorite sonate?"
chow do you think | can answer I
'ch absurd questlons?" ansrily de-.
landed the visitor. +,
~ desired to learn her tcmpera. .
tent more exactly" replied the poet s
nmbly. "However, it doesn't mat.
r." :
'No; of course it doesn't. Now !
ere's ten francs in advance to inspire
gu. The poem is addressed by me to Y
er. Won't she be surprised when t
gets it? She thinks I'm o com.
'onplace sort OF a fellow. I'll make y
er think there's moret to ME thaa an.
sars on the surface. Good night, !
+. Poet; ii you 60 your work wei, t,
II give you steady employment. i,
bowed himself out, leaving a ten
anc piece on the table, and Clando a