Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1898-07-10
TOLERATING A DAFT POET.
But She Managed to Find Her Appetite
Even if He Forgot.
Chicago Chronicle.

CMCd6U SWOiiaClS.
He and she dropped into the brilliant
ly lighted cafe sometime toward mid
night and took seats at a small table
in a secluded corner where they would
be alone and where the arrangement of
the mirrors allowed her to see even the
toilets of the women at right angles
from her. She was large and blonde,
somewhat overdressed and with pasty
complexion and too many jewels. He
was slender and distract, with long.
delicate hands and a weak mouth. AS
they took their seats he drew some
paper and pencil from his pocket and
lost himself in scribbling. She grabbed
the menu card and said:
For the love of heaven, Richard,
must have something to eat!" He paid
no attention and she raped the card
on a glass till waiter strolled up.
"Have you any picked pigs feet?"
I'm afraid not, madam. I've never
seen 1t on our BILL
Il see you have breakfast sausage;
bring me some quick" and as the wait
er started away: "Here, hold on! Get
me cocktail first. Dick, do you want
anything No'-to the waiter-"he's
lost to the world" While the waiter
was gone Richard continued to write
and scribble, erasing and changing,
while his hair fell down over his fore
head The cocktail came and was
swallowed at a gulp. Then when the
waiter went to give the order Richard
came out of his trance and read from
the paper:
Oh, wind and rain! Oh. might and driv-
ing rain!
Weave fast and furious thy mantle dark.
"Dick, will you look at that creature
in red with the red hat, over there in
the corner?"
Just then the sausage came. She be-
gan devouring 1t. With her mouth full
she looked up and said to the waiter:
Get me stein of beer and some
potato salad, qulck!'
Richard broke in and read:
For in my arms my trembling love hes
flin,
..-.a .>s-~e------~----------
my love, I think that is particularly
good, don't you?"
"Oh, fair, but wish he had brought
the salad with it." The salad came just
then. "By the way, waiter, I'd like a
Welsh rarebit. l had very good one
down here last week, and bring some
head lettuce"
Listen to this, dear one
Beat down. o, rain, into the feound
ground!
Toss, wind, the sill1en tassels Of the corn.
For reply Richard heard the gurgling
of the beer as it flowed from the cool
stein down that white throat.
That isn't good lettuce. Take it back
and bring me a better one And do
not like that patent dressing. Bring
the Oil and vinegar and I'll fix it my
self"
While in the throbbing solitude profound,
My love and our little lives adorn.
Dick, this place isn't what it was
under the old management Say, wait
er don't you see that empty stein? Get
a move on, and fill it,
Richard went on scrlbbling and pres
emily the Welsh rarebit was bubbling
before his companion.
The blackness is as mellow as a kiss,
The SOUND of falling rain is like sigh
Dick, for gracious sake, what is that
stuff you are writing? l believe you're
daily. Do you mean to say that
publishers take such rot as that?" And
she began to eat the liquid cheese.
And sdbffe as the mystery of our bliss.
The voices of the wind that hurry by.
They know how to draw beer here.
It's not all collars and cuffs, as they
draw it at the Vincennes." Then. after
a long draught: My! but that touches