The Press. (Stafford Springs, Conn.) 1883-1935, 1905-03-22
GOD
PAN
By
KEITH GORDON

Trenham arrived at Cantico at 1:3G
At 2 NortOn's silent, efficient serving
man was formally introducing him to
the Hutch-his for month-a squa t,
oriental looking building standing in
/ the tempered shade of the pines an(s
larches and containing all those touches
of home comfort usually ascribed tn
feminine hands, but found in the mod.
ern bachelor quarters.
AT 2:30., his tweed suit changed for a
more informal costume, he emerged
from the low, broad doorway, stirred
by a pagan desire to get closer still to
| nature, out into the dim, cloiSterai
places of the woods, where he mighs
float dehciously upon sea of silence,
whose calm was unbroken save by the
ripple of a; bird note OF the swapping of
| tWig. y
| Il say, this is great!'' burst from
| his lips luXuriously as he drew in long
| whiffs of the suave air with it's warm,
| elusive scent of sweet growing things!
This is life This is what man was
| meant for"
AS he ceased speaking he lifted his
| face to the soft breeze that caressed
his cheek like spirit hand and thought
untiattering things of civilization. What
after all did this boasted condition
mean? What but crowded cities with
stone where turf should be, the roar of
trains, shrieking of whistles, whizZiug
of autos, Gathering of hoofs and the
grind, grind, grind of office life. AS he
thought of it now, looking as he was
straight into natures smiling, inscruta-
BILE face, it all seemed supremely ridic-
ulous. Fauns and satyrs, hamadryads
and naiads had been wiser.
At the end of an hours walk he
found that the path ended abruptly at
grassy knoll. For a few moments
Trenham gaZed with an appreciation
too deep for words. Then, with a sigh
of contentment, he sank down upon the
thick grass and stretched himself out,
his head resting in the hollow of his
clasped hands, his eyes narrowed to
Sits like gatekeepers who would say
to the beauties about them, Zone at a
time, please"
And presently the slits became mar
rover and narrower.
Spring" he murmured musingly, sis
just bursting into young summerhood."
Then his lips twitched slightly, and he
tried again.
"That apple tree looks like some
sweet, sedate Quaker lady,
He stretched his eyes open wide, as
if to fling off some irresistible influ-
ence
"Good Lord, am 1 a poet after alp
he demanded comically of the shad-
owy self that always attends us, but
never so palpably as in solitudes. And
then he smiled and lay staring up into
the great arch of the blue above him.
Again the slits grew narrow, almost
imperceptible. A line from poem
learned in youth trai,ed across his
mind, Great Pan is dead"
"It's a lie'' he murmured drowsily. |
Great Pan is not dead Great Pam
The murmur ended in Il knowing |
smile, the smile of one who has learned |
for a certainty what fools most mortalS
be, and that in turn faded into gravity. |
Trenham slept.
Its a regular sleeping beauty OF a |
place-has a breathlesS, charmed air, |
as if it were under a spell. 1 believe |
there are fairies or godlings to be dis |
covered"
So had Natica Duke written to
friend soon after coming to Cantico
for the summer. There were few |
houses in the region - half dozen |
hn1 |
preston of the country was only deep
ened by her long, solitary strolls. She |
had a mystical feeling that there was |
to be discovered some Sc
cret that she was forever on the verge
of.
Cooling, gnome or fairy, she fancied,
might rise in her path at any moment
without causing her any surprise, and
so it was without dismay that she
stopped short at the edge of the wood
one day upon finding her favorite spot
already occupied.
For the fraction of second she half
believed Then she wholly disbelieved.
No godlings would appear in tan OK
fords. Sandals were the utmost one
could cOncede! Still, as a mortal the
sleeping youth before her was worth
A glance told her that.
and she cautiously drew step nearer.
He lay so that the spreading branch
of tree shaded his face, his soft linen
hat tossed OH tie grass beside him, thus
revealing the thick dark hair that look
ed as If it might have curled had not
It's owner sternly refused to hear of
such thing. His features reminded
her strangely of certain marbles she
had seen. they were SO massive, yet so
finished, and with girlish attention to
dress she bestowed an approving
glance on his white negligee shirt, the
sleeves rolled up TO the elbow, and the
luck trousers to match. If he was not [
a godling he was at least most at
tractive mortal.
Daringly she stood and gaZed at him,