The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1902-08-06
! MY POET

was busy one bright September
morning packing my trunks for M,
fall removal from nay uncles house
in the country; to tho marble front
ed hotel op BroadsSay that NUN
bered me eacK3wintez among it's IN
mates when my cousin Adelaide
came dancing into the room and
commanded me to give uI all
thoughts Of a journey for thses
months at least.
"And why, prayf' I asked. "You
know have to go out west after I
reach New York. Come what NAV.
I must see an Indian summer on
the prairies."
"Bother the prairies and the In
dian summer, tcow cried Adelaide.
taking letter from her apron pock-
ct and waving it in the air. tLook
at the signature"
I did look, and I might have been
looking to this day for all the in
formation / gots but Adelaide grew
impatient and, snatching the letter
from my hand, exclaimed, ssListen.
YOU goosew and read the letter
aloud.
Ny Dear F'riend--I ann coming into the
country for a month or two. My doctor
positively forbids my staying In New
York during the fall. Remembering our
old schoolboy league, ! have selected w.
as the place OF my exile and shall be
there on the 10th, wind and weather per-
mitting.
"What do you think of that ?"
asked Adelaide, making large eyes
at me over the top of the letter.
'I have not heard anything yet
to make me postpone my Journey"
"Wait moment; I'll finish. II
am, as ever, yours faithfully'"-
"Well, go on"
-" James Quitman.'"
Games Quitman! You are mad,
Addie. He can never be coming
here"
"There is the letter. Father has
always known him, it seems. It is
the poet, and we are to have him
stay here all the time. Father is to
meet him at the station tonight
and not let him go to the hotel on
any account. Won't people stare
when we walk into church next Sun
day."
| closed the lid of my trunk in
the twinkling of an eye. The poet
I had SO often longed to see, the
man over whose tender verses I had
made myself Niobe scores of times
was it possible that the same roof
was going to shelter US both?
Dinner was thing unthought of
in the house that day, and my uncle
lunched meekly at one of the china
closets off cold meat and bread and
preserved strawberries, while Ad-
die and I actually ate rose leaves
and sugar and cream as a suitable
pendant to the work in which we
were engaged. Nothing less ethe-
real would we partake while fitting
up that poets chamber. BY 4
o'clock that afternoon. our Iabors
were ended. The house was like a
bed of roses.
Of course the trainewg late that
night. Trains always are late when
We are expecting any one by them,
and Addie and I had time to work
ourselves into feverish state that
gave us some very becoming red
cheeks. We heard the whistle of
the train, and fve minutes after
ward carriage stopped before the
gate. The poet had come!
He climbed out of the carriage
like crab, sidewise, and, coming up
the graveled walk toward the front
door, presented to our adrliring
eyes the figure Of stoutish, middle
aged man, with dark eyes and hair
and very pleasant smile. He did
not wear Spanish cloak and
sombrero. He was clad in linen
garments and thatched with a rough
straw hat that had evidently seen
service. We heard him as he came
up the walk.
Every pretty house, Tom; very
pretty house. Those girls your
daughters, hey? / see they've got
those horrid city fashions-low |
neck and short sleeves. IF T had a
daughter, I'd sew her dress to her
ears"
Addie and I looked at each other
In CONSERVATION and barely man
aged to give him civil greeting as
ne crossed the threshold. Was This
the man who had raved about his
Lydia?
That bosom. white and fond and feir,
would were the enamored air
10 faint and fall in passing there.
Low necks, indeedi I sat beside
him at the tea table, as had been
previously arranged, and saw. that
al things were within his reach. |
Never did Hindoo idol tax his vo-
T. =