Waterbury evening Democrat., 1905-03-24

the breeze from an open window was stirring the curtain of silk in the cor ner. I got out of bed and, peering be- hind the curtain, saw only a great white owl, caged and staring out of wide eyes that gleamed fiery in the dim light. I went to bed again, sleep ing until my host woke me in the late i morning.
 After breakfasting I went to the chalet. The postman had been there, but he had brought no letter from Hope. I waited about home, expecting to hear from her, all that day, only to see it end in bitter disappointment. New York was crowded city even then, but I never felt so lonely any where outside camp in the big woods. 1 The last day of the first week came, but no letter from Hope. To make an end of suspense went that Saturday morning to the home of the Fullers. 1 The equation of my value had dwin- dled sadly that week. Now a small | fraction would have stood for it-nay, even the square of it.
 | Hope and Mrs. Fuller had gone to Saratoga, the butler told me. l came ! away with some sense of injury. l 1 must try to be done with Hope. There was no help for 1t. I must go to work at something and cease to worry and lay awake of nights. But I had noth- ing to do but read and walk and wait. No word had come to me from the Tribune. Evidently it was not lan- i gushing for my aid
 I began to see there was no very clamorous demand for me in ''the ] great emporium" as Mir. Greeley call ed it. I began to see. or thought did, why Hope had shied at my offer and was now stunning me. I went to the Tribune office MT. Greeley had gone to Washington; MT. Ottarson was too busy to see me. II concluded that would be willing to take place on one of the lesser journals. spent the day going from one office to anoth- CT. but was rejected everywhere with thanks. I came home and sat down to take account of stock. First. count ed my money. of which there was about $50 left. AS to my talents. there were none left Like the pies at Hillsborough taven. if a man came late to dinner they were all out. I had some fine clothes. but no more use for them than goose for a peacock's feathers.
 decided to take anything honora- ble as an occupation. even though it were not in one of the learned profes- sions. I began to answer advertise ments and apply at business offices for something to give me a living but with no success I began to feel the selfishness of men. God pity the warm and tender heart of youth when it be- gins to harden and grow chill, as mine did then: to put away it's cheery con fidence forever: to make new estf- mate of itself and others. Look out for that time. O ye good people that have sons and daughters!
 must say for myself that had a mighty courage and no small capital of cheerfulness. I went to try my luck with the newspapers of Philadelphia, and there one of them kept mo in sus- pense a week to no purpose. When l came back, reduced in cash and cour- age, Hope had, sailed qannsI ytiIa There was letter from Uncle ED telling me when and by what steamer they were to leave. "She will reacl, there a Friday" he wrote. "and would like to see you that evening at Full ler's"
 had waited in Philadelphia. hoping I might have some word to give her a better thought of me. and that night after such climax of i'll luck-well, l had need of prayer for wayward tongue. I sent home good account of my prospects. could not bring
 myself to report failure or send for
 more money. would sooner have
 gone to work in scullery.
 Meanwhile my friends at the chalet were enough to keep me in good cheer. There was William AcClingan. a Scotchman of great gift of dignity
 and a nickname inseparably connect,
 ed with his fame. He wrote leaders
 for a big weekly and was known as
 "waxy" Michigan to honor a pale
 ear of wax that took the place of a
 member lost nobody could tell how He drank deeply at times. but neve,
 to the loss of his dignity or self pos session. Tn his cups the natural dig [ nifty of the man grew and expanded One could tell the extent of his indul
 gence by the degree of his dignity Then his mood became at once didactit ! and devotional. Indeed. I learned ir , good time of the rumor that he had i lost his ear in an argument about thu
 Scriptures over at Edinburgh.
 remember he came an evening . soon after my arrival at the chale r when dinner was late. His dignit,
 was at the full. He sat awhile in grin r silence. while a sense of injury grew
 in his bosom.
 Mrs. Opper" said he in a grandios' l manner and voice that nicely trillet : the r's. .'in the fourth chapter ant , ninth verse of Lamentations you vii
 find these words Here he raised hi . voice a bit and began to tap the pain
 of his left hand with the index finge
 of his right. continuing. They tha
 be slain with the sword are bette l than they that be slain with hunger $ for these pine away. stricken througl
 want of the fruits of the field.' UpoI 9 my honor as gentleman, Mrs. Opper |. I was never so hungry in all my life"