Charlevoix county herald. (East Jordan, Mich.) 189?-1953, 1904-12-24
OueernesS of
Marcus Miller

Marcus Miller'S mother was dead,
but his father was a good man, who
always followed the dictates Of his
conscience.
He believed it to be bad for his
two of the year at the little school
house under the hill. Therefore, Mar
Gus Miller reached his fourteenth year
without having retarded his growth
by overStudy.
His father also believed that the
best points in other peoples souls are
blunted by too much leisure, so he
kept him busy. Neither did his par
ent believe in an unnecessary display
of affection consequently the boy de-
cided that the people who wrote the
few articles he had read on the joys
of living were liars.
When Marcus Miller was eighteen
years old his father died and went
into everlasting gory-at least SO the
minister said-and Marcus shed some
bitter tears at the funeral and wished
that his father had left few tender
memories behind him rather than a
big farm. Then he took up the bur
den where the old man had left X,
and went on getting more money and
less happiness as the years went by.
Marcus always hated to hear the
minister say: 1.-THE days Of our years
are three score and ten; it seemed
such long time to live. He often
wondered why wise Providence
hadn't cut the limit down to about
half. He was thinking about that one
evening as he sat on the porch gazing
absently at the morning-glory vines
that were trembling in the evening
breeze. So absorbed in thought was
he that he started when the gate-chain
ratified and the gate swung open to
admit a dusty bicyclist who politely
inquired if he could procure a meal
in the neighborhood. A sudden long
ing for mpanionship prompted
Marcus Miller to invite the man in,
and to order his servant to set the
table.
The stranger, who was an amiable
fellow and wanted to make himself
agreeable, poured into the thirsty ears
of Marcus a stream of description that
nearly took his breath away. He told
him of the seas he had crossed, and
the Alps he had climbed, of the cities
he had visited and the forests he had
explored; and Marcus Miller sat per-
fectly still, listening with every nerve
enraptured as Desdemona must have
! been when first she saw the glowing
pictures painted by the words OF
Othello.
The stranger stayed until the moon
rose over the hill, then rode gayly
away. But the world was changed for
the man he left behind leaning on the
little picket gate. Marcus stood In
the moonlight looking down the road,
the wander fever throbbing through
his veins-the world outside was call
! ing him, he wanted TO go, to see, to
! feel.
| He wanted to be rich in memories
like the man who had confessed his
! poverty of worldly goods. And for the
| first time in his life Marcus Miller
realized that man with money may
! be a pauper. 1t was soon after this
night that the people began to notice
that Marcus Miller was acting queer
! He no longer cared for the village
! gossip, and talk of farm implements
/ seemed to bore him. Often when he
sat in the corner grocery down in the
village, he looked out OF the door
/ with eyes that seemed to see some
/ thing a thousand miles away. And
/ one day when an agent came in with
big gold-framed chromas he paid
( three dollars and half for a pair of
companion pieces, the one being the
rock coast of almost anywhere, the
other a stately ship sailing over
I wild, temptestuous sea. And once,
when an old friend of his father con-
graduated him on having such a fine
farm, he suddenly sprang to his feet,
and bursting OUT hate being an
: anchored ship!" threw his clay pipe
on the floor and walked out into the
night. The next day the doctor call
ed in a casual way-just to look at
! the prize COWS, and incidently sug-
gested to Marcus that he ought to
take treatment for his liver.
But Marcus displayed no interest in
his suggestion; he was looking down
the long road, thinking long thoughts.
| Soon after this Marcus startled the