The Birmingham age-herald., 1902-09-28


 for one waking moment forgot the mys- tic legend. "Ye Scholar" or it's equally incomprehensible author; and how could I?
 Since the first discovery of the strange insect and its musical proclivities, but three evenings only have passed that l have not been favored with Its most ex- traordinary performances on the guitar. In this way has it's presence been usually made known. And noting carefully as l have done. the peculiar times and con ditions of it's coming. together with such other suggestions as the surroundings have afforded me. have been led to be- lieve that the spider reasoned as man would reason. In no instance yet has 1t ever touched the instrument when l sat busy at my desk; and only when my pen was idle in my hand, or I had turned wearily away to pace about the room, has 1t ever exhibited any inclination whatever to occupy my attention. This curious fact interpreted itself at last in the rather startling proposition that 1t was simply an indication on the part ot the insect that 1t desired me to favor 1t with music, since my time was not better occupied. Virtually this is what 1t did mean; I know it. I would know and ap- preciate now any want the insect might choose to express; only at first was very dull as one would be naturally And I noticed too, that when l first re- sponded to this summons the spider would leap from the guitar to the wall with every evidence of pleasure, and glide back to its old position near the ceiling, indulging the widest tokens of glee and approval throughout my per- formances. And many times l have marched off round and round the room simply drumming the time, the spider following along the upper margin of the wall with the most fantastic caperings of joy.
 Other experiments followed, too numer- ous and too foolish for recountal here, but each, in its way, sufficient to more conclusively establish in my mind the be- lief that the hideous little monster was endowed with an intelligence as wise and subtle in it's workings as was within the power of my own to recognize-eVen greater-for gradually, as we became more accumtomed to each other the ugly insect grew so tame it would come down the wall and dance for me on level with my face as I sat playing and even spring off upon the instrument if l held 1t out. found my mind so baffled and bewild- cred at last that more than once the con- viction has been forced upon me that the spider was not a spider, but a-No, I'll not say that-not yet, not yeti
 These experiments had progressed for perhaps half dozen nights, when, one evening, as I sat, pen in hand, at the desk here, mechanically boring over the still incomprehensible meaning of the scrawl. and writing and rewriting the two words over and over again upon an empty page before me, I became suddenly aware of a strange sensation of repose. A great. cool quiet fell upon my brain, as when suddenly within some noisy foundry the changing hammers cease to beat and all the blazen tumult drops like a plummet into silence fathomless. l felt a soothing languor flowing down and over me, and ebbing through and through my very being. It was not drowsiness; my eyelids were not heavy, nor did they droop the shadow of a shade I saw ev erything about me as clearly as l do this very moment-only, did not seem part of my surroundings. My eyes although conscious of all objects within range, were fixed upon the scrap of paper head ed by the zigzag scrawl, and with an in- tensity of gaze that seemed to pierce the paper and to see through it and beyond it; and l did not think it strange. l was dimly cor scious, too. of being under the control of some hitherto undreamed-of influence, hut I felt no thought of re- sistance-rather courted the sensation. All was utter CdlIIl W1tH me- dllu l ulu not think it strange. I saw my hand held out before me in this same position the forearm resting on the desk-the same pen grasped lightly in my fingers. Slowly-slowly-slowly saw the spider lowering itself above 1t. wavering and swaying in the air, until. at last, l saw 1t reach it's dangling legs and clutch and cling to the pen-holder at the tip, and rest there; and l did not think 1t strange. But I grew duller then. and very chilly, though I vividly recall seeing the hand moved-not of my own volition-the pen dipped in the ink. and brought directly over the old scrap whereon the scrawl was traced; and I remember. too, that as I watched the motion of my hand. 1 still saw beyond the surface of the paper, and read the very words my pen traced after ward. I say the words my pen traced or my Standardization the act was not my own, I swearl And the spider still sat perched there at his post rocked lightly with the motion of the pen, with all his arms hugged round him as though chuckling to himself; and I say to you again, and yet again, I did not think 1t strange
 Not until the page before me had been filled did I regain my natural state of being, nor did it seem that I then would, had not the spider quilted his position and ran down the pen-holder, leaning from 1t for an instant, touching and pressing my naked hand; then I was con- scious of a keen, exquisite sting; and with a quick, spasmodic motion I flung the hideous incest from it. As l lifted my white face and starting eyes. l saw the spider wildly clambering toward the ceiling on it's invisible thread; and then, with mingled sense of fear bewilder- ment, and admiration, as oppressive and as strange as indescribable, I turned to the mysterious scrap and read traced tremblingly, but plainly. in dainty, flowing hand, unlike any had ever seen before, the lines I now copy from the original script before me, bearing the pedantic title of "Ye Scholar:
 "IIo! hoi Ye Scholar recketh not how
 His lank frame waxeth in ye hectic
 gloom
 That smeareth OCT ye dim walls of his
 room
 His wavering shadow Shut is he. ween, Like as a withered nosegay, in between
 Ye musty, mildewed leaves of some vol
 ume
 Of ancient lore ye moth and he con-
 sume
 In jointure. Yet a something in his mien
 Forbids all mockery, though quaint is
 he,
 And eke fantastical in form and face
 As that Old Knight ye Tale of Chivalry Made mad immortality. yet spared ye Of some rare virtue which we sigh to And pour our laughter out most tender
 ly."