The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1903-09-15
THE SPEN D f r.
By Harry Wilson
by throp
THE T HIRD Q z Z r a T Q N

that had been out of my reach fur twenty
years and-My! but they did look common
and unappetisin'. l kind of shivered at the
sight of EN-.
81 ordered another one Of the big cakes
and two more lemon pies fur the next day.
Fur four days l led a life of what they
call 'unbridled Righteousness while that
Chink pandered to me. l never was any
hand fur drink, but cut loose in that fan
cy-food joint, now / tell you.
THE fifth day begun to taper off. 1 be-
gun to have a suspicion the stuff was made
of sawdust with plasty of Paris fur frostin'.
The sixth day / was sure ii was sawdust,
and my shameful debauch comes to an end
right there. / remembered the story about
the Teller that callated his chickens
sawdust instead of cornmeal, and by and
by settin' of eggs Matched out-twelve OF
the chickens had wooden legs and the thir-
teenth was a woodpecker. Say, l felt so
much like two cords of four-foot stovewood
that IL made me plumb nervous TO ketch
sight of a sawbuck.
right inside again. My, but meat victuals
and all like that did taste mighty scrump-
tious when L could handle 'em again.
AFTER that when I'd been out in the hills
fur a season I'd get that hankerin' back,
and when I'd come in I'd have little
frosted-cake orgy now and then. But KEEP
myself purity Well in hand. 1 never overdone
it like that again, fur you see I'd learned
something. First off, there was the appe-
| tite. / soon the gist of my fun had been
the wantin' the stuff, the appetite fur ii,
and if you nursed an appetite along and
deluded it with promises ii would stay by
| you like one of them meachin' yellow dogs.
| But as soon as you tried to do the good,
| fairy act by Ii, and give IL all II hankered
| fur, you killed it off, and then you wouldnt
be entertained by it more, and KEEP
| stirred up and busy.
and aggravate it by never givin' it quite all
| ii wanted. When l was in the hills after a
| days tramp I'd let it have its fling on such
delicacies as 1 could turn out of the fryin'-
pan myself, but when / got in again I'd
| begin to act bossy with it. It's wantin
| reasonably that keeps folks alive, reckon
The mis- a blest folks I've ever saw was
| them that had killed all their wants by
oVerfeedin' 'em.
Then again, son. in this world of human
| failin's there amt anything ever can be as
| pure and blameless and satisfyin as the
| stuff in bakeshop window looks like ii is.
Don't ever furget that. It's jest too good TO
| be true. And in the next place-pastry's
good in it's way but the best you can ever
| get is what's made fur you at home-T m
| talkin' about a lot OF things now that you
don't probably know any too much about
| Sometimes the boys out on the hills spends
| their time dreamin fur other things besides
| pies and cakes, but that system of mine
holds good all through the deal-you can
play 1t from soda to hook and not lose out.
| And that's why I'm outlastin' lot of the
boys and still gettin' my fun out of the
/ game.
Its a good system fur you, son, while
you're learnin' to use your head. Your pa
played 1t, at first. then he cut loose And you
1 need IL worse n ever ne ala, III L got You
| sized up right. He touched me on one SIDE,
and touched you on the other. But you can
| last longer II you jest keep the system In
mind little. Remember what 1 say about
| the window stuff
| Percival had listened to the old mans
| story with proper amusement. and to the
| didactics with that feeling inevitable to
| youth which says secretly, it affects TO
| listen to one whom 1t does not wish to
| wound, Yes, yes, / know, but you were
living In another day. long ago. and you are
not mel
He went over to the desk and began to
| scribble name on the pad Of paper.
| IF man really loves one woman ne III
| behave all right" he observed to Uncle
| Peter.
| "Oh, amt preachin' like some do. Hav-
| in a good time is all right; it's the only
| thing, 1 reckon. sometimes, that Justifies
| the misery of Twin But cuttin' loose is bad
| Judgment. A man wakes up to find that his
| natural promptin's has cold-decked him. Ii
| i smoked the best see-gars now all the time,
| 'em. That's why / always keep some or
| these outdoor free-burners on hand. One
of them now and then makes the others
The young man had become deaf to the
| musical old voice.
He was writing:
| MY Dear Miss Milbrey-I send you the
first and only poem / ever wrote. may, OF
course. be a prejudiced critic, but 1t seems
| to me to possess in abundance those graces
of metre. rhyme. high thought In poetic
| form, and perfection of finish which the
| critics unite in demanding. To be honest
| with you-and why should l conceal that
conceit which every artist is said secretly
| to feel In his own production?-I have en-
| countered no other poem in our noble tongue
which has moved and captivated me.
lit is but fair to warn you that this is
only the first volume of similar poems which
| 1 contemplate writing. And as the theme ap-
| pears now to be inexhaustible, / am not
| sure that l can see any limit to the num-
Der of volumes shall be compelled to issue
| Pray accept this authors copy with his
best and hopefullest wishes. One other copy
| has been sent to the book reviewer of the
| Already Tyre, in the hope that he, at least
will have the wit to perceive in ii that ulti-
mate and ideal perfection for which the
humber bards have hitherto striven in vain
Sincerely and seriously yours.
Up. PERCIVAL BINES.''
Thus ran the exalted poem on a sheet OF
notepaper:
"AVICE MILBREY.
Avice Milbrey. Avice Milbrey. Avice Mil.
Avice Milbrey, Avice MiIbrey, Avice Mil.
brey,
Avice Milbrey, Avice Mlbrey,
Avice Milbrey, Avice Mlbrey,
Avice Milbrey, Avice Mlbrey, Avice Mil
brey.
And ninety-eight thousand other verse;
quite like it,
ITO be Continued Tomorrow