The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1898-01-30

He no longer thought of metrical laws and
licenses; this was a different thing. lie
saw the painter take the book from the
child and ask grayely: DO you know your
lesson?'
do you know your lesson?" came the in
evitable repetition; then hastily, in changed
form, DO / know my lesson?" which she
answered herself-''Yes; hear me-
And forthwith she began to repeat with
her muffied but not unmusical drawl the
account of the Boston tea party" as given
in the school histories of the United States.
The recitation was fairly good. He had
only to stop to correct her pronunciation
OF Boston, which she gave with the first
90 long-as "Boastin'-at which he
laughed, and explained the joke patiently
when she did not understand.
Now the poem,'' said he.
Now the poem,' she repeated with evil
dent satisfaction, and launched forth into
Emerson's Boston, which is a record of
the same event. and which she finished
without stumbling except in accent or pro-
nunciation. The artist nodded approval,
and, going back to the beginning, ques-
toned her closely on the meaning of words
and passages. These, after repeating his
questions, she explained in quaint phrase,
but with perfect understanding. During all
this time they had stood facing each other,
with the sun and shade around them. And
the Traveller had stood watching, unmind-
full of his danger of being discovered. But
now the artist sat down on his campstool,
and the child kneeled by his side as her
next lesson was assigned, with evident sys-
tem-the geography Of Boston, Boston bay
and Concord river. For trimmings she
was to learn Emersons 1.-Two Rivers" a
poem of five four-line stanzas. "Why En-
erson?' wondered the Traveller. The rea-
son was soon apparent They went over the
verses slowly together; the artist first, a
line at time, the child following:
Thy summer voice, Musketaquit
Repeats the music of the rain;
But SWeeter rivers pulSing fit
Through thee, as thou through Concord
plain"
What makes the river?' asked the artist.
What makes the river2'' asked the child,
and answered, God"
What makes a flood sea- 'firma-
ment?''
She said it slowly after him, and an
swered. God" This was a strange geog-
raphy.
Il see the inundation sweet,
| hear the spending of the stream,
Through years, through men, through ma
Through love and thought, through power
and dream"
what is life in everything-in man, in
nature, in love, in thought in power? What
is the stream of Iife?'" And she answered,
God"
Never forget that" said the grave artist.
ever forget that" said the kneeling
child
and the Traveller outside, being a gentle
manly traveller, barred his head and went
away.
Now, l wonder" he unused, as he
emerged at the curve of the street, and was
confronted by the insistent stare of the
Copper Temple, II wonder if he went up
into the rye fields and adopted her on the
spot" He turned to the sketch and ex-
amined the date again. 'Ninety-four, and
this is ninety-seven. And in three years
they are memorizing Emerson-Emerson!
of all mysteries! What a system for the
pedagogues! OF course, she must have
known how to speak before she lost the
one sense. That makes an incalculable diff
ference. But to teach her to read the lips,
to drop the dialect and to use her SOUL!
And then the patience, when she can't I'M
derstand. 1t didn't happen to-day but it
must often, often happen. What for is he
doing it? What for, what for?" And then
the Traveller, who, in spite of hisJgentle-
hood, was q purposeless traveller, felt
vaguely uncomfortable and abused the Cop
per Temple for Staring clay bank" IT
know what it is" he thought as he turned
for a parting glance at the Last House on
the Street. It's a deaf house. That's
what's the matter with it. Ha! Browning,
now
. The round squat turret, blind as the FOOLS
heart
May
:" The needless house, as deaf as the cynic's
heart
Built of gray stone, without a counterpart
In the whole world. -
This was ingenious, but not very COM
forting, and the sketch weighed thousands
of pounds. Yet he held it fast and pre-
served it as the faithful preserve relics of
the blessed saints. And far away in the
state capital it hangs OH the study walls
of his home, framed in solid gold.
What is this?" inquiries the rarely ad-
mitted friend as he sees the pictured child
Sometimes the Traveller answers enigmatic-
ally, 1.-The Copper Temple" and sometimes,
even more systematically THE Last House
on the Street" but he never explains
Madison, Ind. OLIVE SANXAY.
-4-0-N
Counsel.
If thou dost bid thy friend farewell,
But for one night though that farewell may be,
Press thou his palm with thine. How canst thou
tell