Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1900-04-14

guished looking?' Notice that finely
shaped head" Isn't his chin adorable?'
ating Red Rock" to all of which the reader
and the blind he came to read to listen
the first with a bored politeness and the
second with a pathetic patience.
The chorus luls, and finally ceases as the
author begins to read, to break forth again
with renewed force as he closes The blind
hearers chuckle with childish glee at the
plight of the pretentious old darkey and
grow sympat hetically sad at the homely
pathos Of the scenes which genius makes
real to them.
But Such perfect Delsartean gestures"
Such art in facial expression" What
wonderful delivery gush the others.
The reading over, the author makes
known to the young woman his desire to
meet the sightless audience. individually.
The silver-haired old lady who forgot her
difficulties en- route as she lived in the
memories Of old Hanover county; the
cheery-faced blind poetess, who laughed
aloud all through the story of George
Washington's last duel, and the blind stu
dent whose eyes gave out over his books.
But the opportunity gets lost in the shuttle
of simpering, hero-Worshiping femininity,
which surrounds the author, adoring-eyed.
Our household god, dear Mr.. Page" an
nounces the grenader in the tone of one
who has made an important discovery. She
has trod her determined way to the front.
I'VE have all your books, and quote from
them morning, noon and night, really we
do. And now, dear Mr.. Page" whipping a
volume out of the recesses of her black
tailor-made skirt, won't you autograph
this?''
That reminds the rest, and the young wo-
man waits resignedly, while Mr. Page
inscribes yours truly on cards, handker-
chiefs and even ends of ribbons A momen-
tary cessation of the demand for auto
graphs occasions another attempt on the
authors part to greet one of the blind au-
dence he had come to entertain
But portly matron of buSineSs-like de-
meanor blocks his intentions and likewise
his path. Il came here expressly today"
she declared. in tones weishty with self
Importance, ito get you to make an ap-
pointment with my husband to photograph
you. Any day at eleven-suit your con-
venience."
The author. with shake of the head and
a politely deprecating murmur about not
wanting a likeness published. essays an
other move toward the fulfillment of his
original intentions. But the Photographers
wife grasps his coat sleeve.
He doesn't mean to sell 1t to the news
papers," she declares. He merely wants
1t to hang in the studio with the rest of his
collection of public men. Why, we've got
every famous man in Washington but YOU
'Bul I'm not public man." remon-
StrateS the man of letters
The deepening note of Impotence would
have warned woman of less blunted sensi-
biities; SO would the unconsciously ac-
centuated angle of the square chin But
between modesty and diffidence the portly
matron has yet TO learn to distinguish, and
SHe ruSneS sun idIlIcr INTO the territory
feared by angels, with Besides, I was here
the day you read last year, and when
asked you, you promised to come"
Il said if had time 1 would" retorts the
pursued one, little testify. 81 don't want
to be photographed and I don't intend to
be. I'm sorry II seem rude, madam, but
must make myself understood"
And before the photographers wife can
muster another argument. the now desper-
ate author makes q speedy escape, most of
the lion-hunting crowd following in a con-
certed effort to keepeh him in sight
The young Woman and the hoy who can
see just a little wait, .until the corridors are
sufficiently cleared to allow the safe exit
of the blind in the AUDIENCE and then escort
them to the door. With the Departure of
the last one the young woman sinks YEARLY
into chair and looks around the disordered
room.
The little boy notes the discouraged atti-
tude, and with his hand on her knee looks
up into the face he loves.
You didn't think it would be like this,
did you?" he inquiries, wistfully.
The young woman shakes her head land
to think most Of them were women" she
says, SO softly that the little bow fails To
distinguish the words.