The Denison review. [volume] (Denison, Iowa) 1867-current, 1900-10-23
OBSERVATION-DISCLOSURES
FACES ON The WALL. )
BY EoD NJ. cHEYNE.

NSESS'SV,SN'ONHS
My friend Topper is inclined to obesi-
ty, not to that cool. self possessed obesity
that marks the man of the world, not to
tIlat good natured, rotund fulness of per-
son that knows it can't hurry with COM
fort and so is content to stand serene in
the throng of nervous humanity breaking
out i'll perennial smiles of complacent in
4aulgence on all the Tuning little world
around, not to we'll groomed portliness,
but rather to the nervous, self conscious
type of adiposity that characterizes the
woman with the market basket one sees.
on street cars. Topper, in other words,
is both fat and fussy.
We, Topper and l, have an unspoken
understanding that brings us together
every Monday night in the back row at
the Grand Opera House. 1 was little
early last Monday night, but, crossing to
the aisle at the left of the house, found
Topper in his usual place. May my
friends never have the pain, my foes the
pleasure, of seeing me in such state as
] found Topper. His chin on shis breast,
his hands deep in his trousers pockets,
my fat friend, the picture of abject mis-
cry, sat staring at the wainscoting of ala
baster counterfeit running around the
walls of the audience room and lobby. l
forced my way past him, since he seem
ed in no way inclined to move, and, sit
ting down in my accustomed place,
awaited his tale. know his moods, and
this one was sure to have tale.
For some moments he sat motionless,
except for the heaving of his shirt bos-
ON, which rose and fell with his labored
respiration like the Nancy Lee anchored
at full tide, his starched linen creaking
ominously as it strained on his gold stud
buttons Surprised at his long silence,
and more at the faint odor l detected of
high balls gone by, for Topper rarely in
@dulges, l was about to speak, when Top
Z per turned. Laying his hot fat hand
impressively on my wrist, he moaned in
sepulchral tone, well, Bob, it's all up
with me-"
waited to hear whether it was a visit
from his wife's mother or lost bet.
y when, to my great surprise, he continues:
Yes, Bob, this intemperance is ter
rible thing! Gut it all out, old man, be-
fore it's too late!"
fat fool, when it comes to bibulosity
you're not even energetic, let alone ambi-
tious."
This was actually the first time l had
known him to take anything for month
II know l don't often touch it, and
even today don't think was in on the
last round, but it's got me-got me dead
"Got your
My friend edged over like some foolish
young thing and in a Mortified whisper
exclaimed:
II see things!"
This, coming from my supera bstemious
friend, was certainly dry humor, and only
the helpless expression on his face over
came my desire to laugh. 1t was evident
Topper was serious.
'sThere," said he, laying his finger on a
& spot on the marble Dashboard of the
wall, II know you'll say I'm fool, but
can see a face there just as plain as
though it had been drawn by an artist
"And SO it has | laughed, for strik-
ing likeness of a young girl, decollete and
charming, smiled out at me from the
maze Of lines beneath his finger.
Has what?' he inquired languidly.
Has been drawn there" l replied. II
can see it; any one can see it.
The faint smile of relief this assertion
brought him faded away as he moaned:
Yes. but see dozens of them. Did
i some one draw faces all over these walls
and pillars and everything else? Here
and here and there and here! Don't you
see them?" All this time he was thrust
ing and stabbing excitedly with his fore
finger "There's man, and here's an
old woman with a hooked nose, and
there's baby with little hood on its
head, and here's
,s'Sit down. l commanded, for in his
enthusiasm Topper had risen and was
following the marble Dashboard across
the back of the house toward the lobby.
Topper sank down in despair, the tide OF
emotion in his troubled breast still
threatening the moorings of his shirt bos-
ON.
My mind was working on a tactful
scheme for drawing my friends thoughts
away from these forms of his magma
ton, when, my eye resting on the mar
BILE, the face of an old man met my gaze
g Slightly Disconnected, / looked away
and, pillar of this same material com
ing within the circle of my vision, was
confronted by two faces in profile, back
to back like the mythical Janus. l felt q
strange sensation down the seam of my
coat collar and looked again toward the
slab on the wall. There was the old
mans picture unaltered. l rose, certain
that it would fade away on my approach
To my surprise, it bore the closest scru
tiny and returned my questioning stare
with the mildest affability.
spoke to Topper, who stood expectant
at my elbow, and we walked into the lob
by, where we could continue our search
away from the curious stare of the now
rapidly gathering audience. 1t was the
same there-faces Of every possible con
ception, formed by the multifarious lines
veining the composition of those slabs
around the lobby, stared and grinned anG
smirked and scowled and glared at us
from whatever point we scrutinized. The
attendants of the theater, noting our &C
tions. joined us, as did one or two friends
coming in, and all, with some slight eff