Daily inter mountain., 1900-11-23

puddles of the street. A wretched in
dvidual was making his way with
| tumbling steps along the sidewalks, at
times knocking his shoulder against
the store windows and doors which
were already closed. The young fell
low, who did not look as if he were
much over 20 years old, was the butt
of ridicule and anger of a few belated
passers- by. It was thought that he
was drunk. In reality it was hunger
| and intense fatigue which caused his
| form to sway to and fro and his steps
| to totter.
| From his earliest childhood Leo Ber-
| mis- was convinced that he was poet.
In the school of his native city where
he was required to learn few SEN
| tences, for he was of a good family, he
was known as the LATEST pupil. Never
| theless he would often surprise his
teachers with compositions in prose and
| poetry that astounded them.
When he was II years of age he was
refused the baccalaureate because he
could not give the exact dates of the
Peloponnesian war, so necessary in prac-
tical daily life.
The old priest, however, who was a
philanthropist on small SCALE as
naively as a child, dismissed him with
| his blessing, and predicted brilliant
| future for him. The boy had presented
him with an autographic volume of his
| first poems. They were effusions of the
month of April, as sweet and tender as
the blossoms of an almond tree.
8. AS soon as Leo felt freed from the
| fetters of the school bench he rushed
to Paris. Here he lived as so many
others, on ideal, hopes and poor meals
Let the learned decide whether cheap
sausage can produce an elegy and
whether headcheese can inspire SON.
nets. At least so much is certain, that
| young poets are usually compelled to be
contented with such food
| Leo Bernis, in accordance with ira.
dition, first brought his manuscript to
a professional publisher. After a Pc
! riod of two months he received a brief
! note from the literary critic of a con-
| cern. 1t contained few words of
| praise of the young poet and at the
close he was told that the house was
| prepared to publish his copy" pro-
vided the poet would pay the costs of
publication.
| Leo rejoiced greatly when his poems
| had been read and that their merit
| was acknowledged. His grief that he
could not raise the money to secure a
place for them in the literary market
carious existence by a few hours daily
of Misunderstanding copying work.
Even then he had to keep to blood
sausage and hash and he regarded a
outlet once a week as an expensive
| luxury. In short, he led a very noble
and pure life. Now honor bright, my
dear well-fed literary contemporaries,
who of us cannot remember the time
when he had barely forty sous to his
name, and only dreamed of honest un-
selfish art?
| Nevertheless, poor Leo was to be pit
led indeed. His income from copying
work and private instruction grew less
as the months passed by. The climax
of his salary was reached when q
small hotel in which he had been given
lodging and breakfast in exchange for
| two hours daily instruction, failed.
| For three days he had walked the
streets, for three nights he had not
| slept and not morSe of food had
passed his lips for nearly forty -eight
hours. His last breakfast consisted of
a slice of bread and sausage. He was
the guest of a friend who had not quite
reached his state of penury
! Leo was too proud to beg but he re-
| membered a friend who owed him a
few sous and he determined to go to
him and ask him to help him out He
had spent a few hours in a public read
ing room to warm himself, and as he
stepped into the street to walk two
hours he found that he was almost too
weak to move. The blood rose to his
temples. He was dizzy from nausea. 1t
was with supreme effort that he
| stumbled along.
AS he turned a corner he suddenly
heard coarse female voice addressing
him.
well, my dear blonde chappie, won't
you even look at a girl?"
! He turned around mechanically and
| looked at the speaker. She was a
healthy brunette past the youthful Pc
| fiod. She was bare headed, wore a dark
dress and black cloak. She might have
been taken for working girl, but the
rouge on her cheeks and the painted
eyebrows betrayed her.
The young poet had heretofore only
loved the fairies and princesses of his
poetic dreams and this person inspired
him with terror. He wanted to rush
away, but his strength failed him. After
staggering few steps farther he had
to lean against the wall
My dear. my dear, what is the mat
ter with you? Did you take drop too
much?
The girl had followed him and now
stared at him with a brazen face.
| The youth felt as if he would fall in
a faint. Cold sweat was dripping down
over his forehead
Please leave me alone" he mur-
INJURED.
THE expression on the face of the
girl suddenly changed. Her big dark
eyes regarded the unfortunate young
man with deep pity.
Are you sick?'
1t seemed as if the question overcame
all his pride. The tone was tender as
if his own mother or sister had uttered
It, Closing his eyes he said sighingly:
Il have not eaten thing since early
yesterday morning. l am hungry and
weak"
The woman hardly gave him time tc
finish the sentence. She grasped him
by the arm and almost carried him tc