The Wilmington daily Republican. (Wilmington, Del.) 1890-1902, 1897-07-06
a GODDESS.

marvel Of perfect form. Tho fesh was
lightly tinted In wonderful colors. touched
with soft CLEANS Of pale gold. IL was tho
statue Of goddess. ~
80 great was the worship of Silas for
the divine In art, for tho outward shaping
Of q beautiful soul, that be raised an altar
to his goddess He may not have offered
pagan sacrifices to her, being reasonable
man, but he built temple TO hold his
treasure, and the shrine was made lovely
by painters and gravers, by nature, too,
for olematis and climbing roses leaned
through the arches Of the sacred place.
When Sias had leisure from his duties
as rich man or from his studies as
wise one, bs spent hours In admiring bis
rare treasure 1t may DO wondered whsth-
er the goddess cared what he felt or
whether sh, missed the substantial gifts
she had been accustomed to In forWer
times.
So far MS her feelings may be imagined,
they rnnst DO narrated. Thus It was easy
to sec that she cared nothing for the vul-
gar details of life. She was indeed far
above the common. Whether in her old
life, when she was worshiped by multi
tudes, she Toasted In secret upon the offer
ihgs laid before her, IL was sure now that
she never thought Of food and the prepare
ton thereof or troubled herself about
garments.
These facts would show that she was
above most women, and Silas loved her
for IT, Being no god himself, but'a man,
Silas was not always at her side or Oh q
PEDESTAL. Yet In bis absence he loft the
temple generously open. The goddess,
though not Of heroic proportions, was safe
on her throne, and Silas felt that the wide
door was companion to the windowless
arches. From 1t the goddess could look
out on the higbroad, and In turn those
faring along the way might stop for rest.
What wonder, then, that many came to
look OF the lofty imageP Some spoke Of
whether she were worthy Of her place or
not. Those were they who must oavil.
Some looked with curiosity and were un-
knowing. There were few who cared to
come again. This proves that Silas was
an uncommon man. F..
Every one likes best his own treasure
and defends Its value. So Silas felt through
bis whole being the worth Of his goddess,
for he owned her, and he was good
man and placed no other gods before her.
In a tragedy without appeal even riches
do not help. A statue cannot die, but that
is because IL may be immortal. For the
second time in her long life the goddess
was taken from her shelter. The first
time her divinity was lost. This time it
was her body. Fate had brought her out
Of dim past, out Of the old careless days
Of cheerful gods. Now fate had circum-
scribed her; still divine, to be just, but
of her owner, his wisdom, bis constancy,
did not avail. The tragedy was without
appeal.
For one day a wanderer came by-a
worthless singer, who amused children
and made toys-and the goddess came
down from her resting place as at COM
mand. It was not known for time with
whom she went away, though Felix, the
trifling wayfarer, was believed to be the
ono and got much blame.
She must have learned to speak, for
when he looked at her with pleased eyes in
the temple that day while he ate his crust
she signifed to him that she was tired Of
being perfect. From having the outward
form of woman very likely sho had
come to be o woman, so that 1t had grown
troublesome for her to try to be as calm,
as uncaring, as far above feeling, as she
had seemed.
When, therefore, the mountebank Felix
gazed upon her with smile Of delight;
noted her shape, better even than he could
carve in a doll; when he with carelessnoss
touched her body, having no straining fos
reverence In his heart, then indeed tho
goddess was stirred. More than that, she
moved and held out her hands.
She did this timidly and childishly in
spite of her great age, for she had never
done it before--at least not since those
grandes passions in the great past, when
she had no soul and they were very differ
ent, besides being half forgotten.
She did not think Of her soul now, I
Imagine As for the tramp, he had the
soul of child. He was happy from day
to day, even from hour to hour. The
past-his little past-weighed naught with
him, and the future was unfelt.
1t may have been q fit union when they
went forth together, for neither cared
for the material success of life. She was
more contented in being atoy than she had
ever been as q great work of art or as .
revered goddess, partly because she no
longer cared for those shadowy hordes
partly because the compelling touch OF
her maker was forgotten.
And this man painted her afresh to sit
his taste. Ho gave her more fleshy tones,
and he trimmed her with ribbons Once,
when no had SO much gold, he even gilded
her in fantastic fashion on the hair, on
the soft surfaces of her shoulders and
thighs, where she had been SO family gilt
before. She loved the carcssing and the
play.
Having forgotten shc was goddess, she
did much as women do, and u sad state Of
things came to pass. She let Felix put
her into his shelter, which was mere
hut. Not at all like the marble and silver
temple was tho hut, though this lover Of
the fields and bypaths had it bright with
vagrant bloom and woody vines. Within
It was bare and apt to be dark when the
sun did not shine.
And the. mountebank went his way,
wandering as over. Sometimes he would
como back and ind tho goddess In sad
mood. This did not make him as pleasant
as when her warm hues were not hid In
gloom. He wished her to be at his COM
ing as the morning glory when morning
comes. But she was not flower; she
was woman-scarcely even a goddess
any more.
So the maker of conceits went his why,
and his light hoart led him many care
less chase, and the goddess grew less'and
less toy, for her tawdry colors were fad
ing.
At last, efter a long journey, Felix
thought Of lis hut. He was tired. He
turned hack with pack full Of nice things
gathered on the way. He had gold in
bag and wine in skin. He thought of
his toy goddess with longing, and more
md more he thought Of her nearing home.
Through the dusk as he passed, peeripg
far up through the grove on the slope, he
thought he caught a glimpse of her pale
ness So, though the dew was heavy and
mist crawling up, he strobe upward to-
ward the cleaning thing.
There she lay broken, washed Of her
color by the damp. She was woman no
tnx, h,,f tho rIIip nf