Frostburg mining journal. [volume] (Frostburg, Md.) 1871-1913, 1900-10-20
ESMEE'S
ROMANCE.

| 8-1-@-4-@-e@@-@-e@-1-@-9
Justin Hoste, the brilliant young man
artist, was in South Africa making
sketches of the Bocr war for American
newspapers. He was riding toward a
kopjc one morning when the sudden
sound of heavy firing sent the blood fly
| ing to his heart, as he realized that be-
| yond the brow were the Beers and that
an engagement was taking place. TA-
ting spurs to his horse, he rode forward
at full speed, and the fever of battle
swept over him when he reached a point
where he could see the hollow that sur
rounded the base of the kopje.
Down in the dip was a thin red line"
of men, who scrambled, as fast as the
ones in front would let them, up the hill
side toward their hidden foes, intrcnched
behind every rock and bush and scrap of
cover that could shield n man.
Justin rode straight down into the
melee, and then he felt a sudden blow
and sharp pang, and then oil was a
blank.
From the depth of oblivion he emerg-
cd at last in hospital tent, where quiet
| nurses moved to and fro and where the
stiffness seemed almost oppressive after
the clang and clamor of the hollow. His
left arm was helpless and bandaged, and
| all his limbs felt singularly weak and
| light.
what is the matter with me?' he ask
| ed of a nurse.
Not much now, Mr.. Hoste. A bullet
passed through an artery, and they only
|
get up your strength with rest and care"
To while away the tedium of his stay
in the hospital he began to draw and
skctchcd the face of girl he had seen
in dream the night before the battle.
| She had a lovely, serious face, with
| great, earnest eyes and n tender mouth.
| She seemed to be standing at the gate
of a beautiful country house, and she
| appeared in his dream to be holding the
| gate open for him to pass through. He
called the sketch His Dream Girl" 1t
| proved his best work
| When he was in London on the way
to New York, he responded to n Bond
street gallery's suggestion by sending
his African sketches for exhibition, and
he included this, his masterpiece.
He had no lack of friends, now that
he had made a little place for himself
in the world of people who "do some
thing" and they took him up and made
him one of the minor fashions of the
hour, going in parties to see his "show,"
writing it up in all the papers, inviting
him to dinners and giving him commits
sions to draw and write for them.
He had never been so prosperous, and
he found it pleasant enough, though now
and then the loneliness seized him for
moment. And through it all he had the
| sense of something which was coming
toward him, approaching always day by
| day until it was imminent. 1t seemed
| a mere chance that took him one after
noon in late spring to Bond street to
take n peep at his own pictures or at the
people criticising them.
| A group of three women at the far end
| of the second room attracted his atten-
| ton. They seemed so eager and so in
terested and We're absorbed in some de-
bate concerning the sketch of THE
| Dream Girl"
| Justin, curious to know what they dis
| cussed, drew near and heard one say
with dccision:
| "There cannot be any one else in the
world so exactly like Esmee as that. He
must have seen her at some time or an
other.
|
third. "are you sure you have never met
him."
| Justin stepped closer involuntarily and
bent forward to look at the girl address
ed; then he started forward, enchanting:
'My dream girl
For he was gazing into face that was
the facsimile of his vision, only lovelier
| even than the dream had showed it.
They were all speeChless with the
strangcness of the incident And Justin
was just recovering himself and was
about to apologize, when the girl stretch
ed ont her hand to him. saying softly:
"You are JUSTIN
| He stood transfixed, while a murmur
of establishment brokAfrom the other
two. And then Esmee hid:
Il saw you once, years and years ago,
when you were boy and lived in the
country. | was lonely little girl, and
you were a lonely little boy, and the
powers that were decreed that we should
meet and play together one summer day.
| They hoped we would be constant play
mates, but you went away to school and
never came back any more. Do you re-
| member!
| 81 begin to remember" he stammered,
bewldercd but | had quite forgotten
| '
81 believe | did," she answered, smil-
| ing and looking from him to the picture.
So they began long conversation and
wandered away together to n cushioned
seat in the corner. No shyness or reserve
seemed possible to them in the presence
of that picture. painted at the other side
of the world.
at is a romance in real life" whisper
ed one OF Esmee's friends to the other.
81 always thought something unusual
would happen to her because she is such
an odd girl. He looks tremendously hap
py, doesn't he?"
And he was. Most people are when the
best thing that life can give them is with
in their reach.-Boston Traveller.
Use of Waste Slate.
Slate pencils were formerly all cut
from solid slate, just as it is dug from
the earth, but pencils so made were OBJ
ipptnl IN on appouut Of ha crit which