Free press. [volume] (Hays, Kan.) 1888-1908, 1899-12-30
By II. S. Jameson.

We'll, If those fellows are coming
around to see the old year out they
had better show up pretty soon,"
yaWned H Parker Baxter as he slam
med down the cover of a ponderous
and gruesome medical book and turned
pair of sleepy eyes to the clock, which
was complacently ticking away the
last fifteen minutes Of '98. No other
sounds were to be heard, save the oc-
casiona1 settling of the fire in the
Crate. for the snow lay deep and soft
over the cobble and hagstone outside.
The old year, after a stormy life, was
dying calmly and beautifully.
To our friend Baxter, one Of these
unimpassioned, dusty men who never
join in,' this ancient ceremony Of
seeing the old year out appealed but
feebly. He used to say of New Years,
IAN arbitrarily fixed point in time
which has become the inaugural date
for good resolutions, to the necessary
neglect OF all other dates for their
formation" but most of his friends
thought this simply a speech that he
was gratified to make. He was trying
hard to pose as a "rising young phys
ician," and was really acting the part
to himself, as many an ambitious man
will do.
But however this may be, as the
seconds licked along, H. Parker grew
more and more drowsy. He settled
himself back in the chair, stared at the
fire, and blinked. Then his eyelids
dropped.
'This will never do says he,
Strengthening up with a jerk and
reaching out to the table for something
to read Or look at, 81 must keep awake
few minutes longer" Chance put a
stack of photographs under his hand,
and though they were stale enough he
began to look them over again-inci-
dentally yielding to the comfort OF ly-
Ing back in the big chair. Some were
portraits OF his friends at school and
college, some were old faded prints
that ought to have had romances at
tached, but which were really very
prosaic, even to him. Others bore the
brand Of the amateurs first attempt
these to be passed by quickly; a few
were the products Of his own photo
graphic skill at Granite Head last sum-
mer-bathers in the surf, the hotel, a
clam bake, etc.-al1 very fair photo
graphs in their way-but hold! here
is one that might b" studied critically.
There is no hurry. It is too late now
for the jewellers to come. H. Parker
shifts to a still more comfortable posi-
ton and the soft lamp light shines
n oh "
tie picture as you would ask to see.
It is the picture of dark-haired girl,
dressed in suit of duck. She is stand
ing on log Of driftwood with her
hands behind her and her handsome,
happy face turned squarely to the cam
era. In the developing of this pic
ture H. Parker had conceded that more
care was required than in ordinary
work; he had watched it's delicate lines
appear with the enthusiasm OF true
lover Of the chemists art. With any
other passion? Possibly, but that was
past and gone four months ago.
The young doctor liked that photo
graph, somehow He had examined it
time and again until he knew it's every
detail. It did not grow stale like the
others. But tonight there seemed to
be a new light upon it, new tone in
the unlicensed background of sand and
sea, an undefnable change Of express
sion in those brown eyes looking out
of the albumen paper. Our magma
ton is subject to such unhealthy f1ut-
tiers as this, yet most interesting grew
that picture, and H. Parker's eyes and
heart were won, if his reason sane
toned not.
Preposterous and incredfble! The
duck skirt began to move slightly, as
If stirred by a breeze from the sea, and
the margins of the picture drew far
Their and farther apart, until on one
side a row Of bath houses came into
view, while on the other the broad.
blue ocean sparkling in the summer
sunlight! More than this, H. Parker
was conscious of slight odor of salt
in the air, as of seaweed and wet rocks
left by the tide. The distant boom OF