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

put | don't: Young lady, viii you
do me one favor?"
What is it, sir?'
fire." o >''A0
.1stupid trashr" cried Addie.
aghast, snatching up the volume.
"Yes;I wrote it. I was boy,
and, by George. my publishers took
Ing ont pf my desk and went mad
over 4, while they actually turned
mn their noses at my report Of the
poor laws. Wonld you believe it?"
w uncle looked sympathizing.
Addie arranged the ice cream glasses
before him without a word.
But, cir, Hook at The: fame you
nave Won," I remarked.
Hem! Fame! It's q rag flut-
tering on bush. Z / wouldn't give
q button for it. Five thousand dol
lars year will keep you well clothed
and well fed. Fame won't"
de helped himself to an ice.
There was no reply. The two
gentlemen resumed their political
discussion. waxing so warm in tho
defense Of their favorite views that
they were in fair way to clear the
tray between them. Addie caught
up the condemned volume Of poems
and vanished from the room. I fol-
lowed her. She fled up the stairs
Like fairy, and I found her in the
poets chamber, stripping the roses
from the vases with frantic haste.
"What on earth are you abuutw
l asked, halting on the threshold in
amazement.
!. "He shall not have one of them,"
she said, half crying. ellis curtains.
shall not be looped up with them. I
have great mind to tie them back
with rope yarn. To think how we
worked all the day to give him
pleasure, and after all he only cares
a1out eating and drinking and be-
inS an alderman. Oh, it is too
bad!"
burst out laughing and ran
downstairs. The contrast between
our dreams of the poet and the poet
as he was was rich. I had to wait
moment in the hall to get my face
into company order," and then,
I pushing open the half closed door,
[ went back into the parlor.
At first sight I thought it was
empty. The chairs were pushed
away from the table, and there was
q faint smell Of cigars. Had they
actually been smoking there? No;
/! heard my uncle pacing up and
down the garden, as was his wont
each evening, and the fragrance of
the weed came that way, but he was
alone. Where was the poet?
caught sight of him at le3t, sit
ting at the open window with the
rose colored curtains falling in soft
folds around him. The moon was
up, shining gloriously upon the
grassy yard beneath him. The night
wind rustled in the leaves of the
naples above his head. Addie, COM
ing into the room, paused at the
sight of my uplifted finger on tho
threshold.
It had been all "sham" then.
Our poet, though hearty eater,
still retained his love of the beauti-
full. What on earth had made him
talk such heresy when he sat rapt
in enjoyment, never stirring, scarce
ly breathing, as he watched that
glorious moon? IwouldS steal soft
ly to his side, pause, try to convict
him and make him recant all the
fibs he had told about these beauti-
full blossomings of his youth, the
poems.
The carpet was thick and soft, |
and it muff1ed my football effectual-
ly, end I stood beside him unno-
ticed. His face was hidden by his
arm. 1 heard a choking sound-he
was weeping. My heart melted in a
gush of pity. I laid my, hand upon
his shoulder as sympathizingly as
1 could. He started little. His
head settled down upon one side,
exposing his face, The mouth
opened, and-he snored!
The next morning I started on
my trip to the west, and from that
day to this I have never met
"poet."