The Washburn times. [volume] (Washburn, Wis.) 1896-1976, 1902-08-14


himself, and finally tossed it back
careiessly.
3The unconsciousness Of genius r
whispered .Addie in my ear just as
he turned upon US.
s'Who owns this book 2"
I modestly answered that I had
that great pleasure.
"Great pleasure, hev? She calls
it a pleasure, Tom! Hem! | sup
! pose I ought to feel complimented /;
but I don't Young lady, will you
do me o1Ye favor r.
what is it, sir z"
sPut that stupid trash into the
fire.
Stupid trashp cried Addie,
aghast, snatcling up the volume.
eyes; [ wrote it. I was a boy,
and, by George, my publishers took
it out of my desk and went mad
over it, while they actually turned
up their noses at my report of the
poor laws. Would you believe it?''
My uncle looked sympathizing.
Addie arranged the ice cream glasses
before him without a word.
SBut, sir, look at the fame you
have won, 7 [ remarked.
"Hem! Fame! It's a rag fut-
tering on a bush. Ilwouldn't give
a button for 1t. Five thousand dol
lars year will keep you well clothed
and well fed. Fame won't"
He helped himself to an ice.
There was no reply. The two
/ gentlemen resumed their political
discussion, waxing SO warm in the
defense of their favorite views that
they were in a 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 a fairy, and / found her in the
/ poets chambeg stripping the roses
from the vases with frantic haste,
SWhat on earth are you about %
/ asked, hating on the threshold in
amazement.
SsHe shall not have one of them"
she said, half crying. ellis curtains
shall not be looped up with them. /
have a 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
about eating and drinking and be-
ing 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
a moment in the hall to get my face
into company order" and then,
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
faint smell of cigars. Had they
actually been smoking there? No;
I 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?
] I caught sight of him at last, 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
3 rassy 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 tie
threshold.
1t had been all a "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? [ would steal soft
ly to his side, pause, try to convict
him and make him resant all the
fibs he had told about these beauti-
full blossomings of his youth, the
poems.
The carpet was thick and soft,
and it muffied my football efectual-
] ", and | stood beside him unno-
ticed. His face was hidden by his
arm. I heard choking sound he
was weeping. My heart melted in a
gush Of pity. I laid my hand upon
his shoulder as sympathizingly as
| could. lie started little. His
! head settled down upon one side,
exposing his face. The mouth
opened, and-he snored!
The next morning [ started on
my trip to the west, and from that