The Montgomery advertiser., 1904-10-30
SILVER AS DUST.
By yr. H. LANCASTER.

fCopyright. 1904, Daily Story Pub. Co.)
 The woman who had elected to live alone was not apt to remember that she was alone, except when her eyes hurt her and she. could neither read nor write. Even then she was given to lying on the lounge by the window looking up at the stars and dreaming endless dreams of the work she was to do. Lonely? There was a stub born strain in her that forbade the ad- mission.
 But tonight 1t was stormy, and no stars; she was forced to fall back up- on the fire for companionship. Alas. glowing coal color only aggravates aching eyes and physical pain will ever affect ones mental moods! An. well. the upshot was that the lonely woman shielded her quivering eyes with her strong, willing hand and fell to re- dectine that this was Christmas eve.
 My stars, the tired mammas and broke papas in this wide world to- nightw In sharp contrast to the quiet Sof her study she seemed to hear the shrill chorusing of many childish voices Still she persisted:
 Funny that sane people will go de- liberately into that sort of thing. I'm glad I elected to not live my life along matrimonial lines. Aye. Lord there WAS A man had not where to lay her head. but that time Is past. wonder if 1t is really we'll for the world. Oh, In- {, dependence, thy heights are strong and clean albeit the winds do blow bit bleak there." s
 She got up and walked slowly around the room, touching the backs of her books with tender fingers.
 You are a pretty good substitute
 zA A- eto an1 xyn,r never have colics and tempers." But. yes; the lonely woman had plenty of pluckl Presently, though, she was lounging again before the fire.
 I'm a selfish beast-that Is the short of 1t. Even these checks are be- ing sent as the price of peace. not as promoters of pleasure. Perfectly will ing to heap up silver as dust if only I may be left alone. Aye. Lord; dare say silver heaped up in that spirit Is worth about asA much as dust. Don't suppose they get any more pleasure out of the receiving than I do out of the giving. Sort of perfunctory affair all around. Mais, quel voulex vous? My whole life Is perfunctory. I haven't done a spontaneous thing since" She stopped there and the dull red fire ran into her face. It seemed Incredible now, in the self-assured serenity of 35. that her high head should ever have been bowed in broken hearted sobbing upon the breast of-a convict.
 well, I suppose every woman plays the fool at least once in her life. Still. deliver me from any more spontaniety. An it please you, I prefer the perfume tory. Heaping up silver as silver is too great a strain upon one's-self-respect? Or shall we say. soul-fiber. Exploiting emotions may be thrilling. but emotion in itself Is unsettIing. And yet" She threw aside the reverie and took up the letters on the tray. Neat envel- opes containing neat notes enclosing neat checks. Not blur or a blunder. Her stationery and typewriting was one of her neat little brides. And they would be mailed tomorrow. The re- cipients would cash the checks, spend the money and write her each a stiff little note-perfunctory, thanks for a perfunctory present. Silver as dust. aye, Lord!" She looked them over with aching eyes and dropped them slowly into the receiver. Now, I suppose if I were to go scotching around in this storm and put that money into clocks and shepperdesses and tin horns and highlands. 1t would be very much more appreciated-silver heaped up as sil- ver-though the chances are that they don't need a single one of those things. Funny sort of something-the human heart. Can't feel alive unless 1t Is making an exhibition of its poor self. "
 Then came one of those pauses all brain workers must take account of :. When volition passes abruptly into a state of suspended animation and the mind like an unfettered wild thing shapes the shadowy impossible swiftly into the clear-cut imperative. It Is the hand of the Maker. At its touch