Twice-a-week plain dealer. (Cresco, Howard County, Iowa) 1895-1913, 1906-02-13


itor that her home was his, not hers.
lived only for her art, which was that
OF the table. Mr.. Bareaud at fifty had
lived so well that he gave up walking,
which did not trouble him, but at sixty
he gave up dancing, which did trouble
him. His only hope, he declared, was
In Crailey Gray's promise to invent for
him ccncaye partner.
There was thin, quizzing shank Of
q son, Jefferson, who lived upon qui.
nine, ague and deviltry, and there were
the two daughters, Fanchon and Yir.
gtnia. The latter was three years old.
or than Fanchon, as dark as Fanchon
was fair, though not nearly so pretty,
small, good natured, romping sprite
Of girl who had handed down the
heart and hand of Crailey Gray to her
sister with the best grace in the world.
For she had been the heroine Of one of
Mr. Gray's half dozen or so most seri.
GUS affairs, and after furious rivalry
with Mr.. Carewe the victory was gen
orally conceded to Crailey. His tri.
umph had been Of about fortnight's
duration when Fanchon returned from
st. Mary's, and with the advent Of the
younger sister the elder, who had de.
cided that Crailey was the incompara-
BILE she had dreamed of since infancy.
was generously allowed to discover
that he was not that vision; that she
had fallen in love with her own idea
Of him, whereas Fanchon cared only
that he be Crailey Gray.
To be in love with Crailey became
Fanchon's vocation. She spent all her
time at it and produced blurred eff
feet upon strangers. Nor was she
alone in suspecting Mr.. Gray Of gen
ius. In the first place, he was SO odd;
In the second, his poems were ALREADY
attracting more than local attention"
as the Journal remarked generously,
for Crailey had ceased to present his
rhymes to that valuable paper. Aye,
Boston no less was bis mart.
He was rather radical in his literary
preferences and hurt the elder Cheno-
weth's feelings by laughing heartily at
some poems Of the late Lord Byron,
offended many people by disliking the
style Of Sir Edward Bulwer and even
refused to admit that James Fenimore
Cooper was the greatest novelist that
ever lived. But these things were as
nothing compared with his unpatrlotic
defense Of Charles Dickens. MANY
Americans had fallen into a great rage
over the vivacious assault upon the
United States in Martin Chuzzlewit."
Nevertheless Crailey still boldly hailed
him, as every one had heretofore
agreed, the most dexterous writer of
his day and the most notable humorist
of any day. OF course the Englishman
had not visited and thoroughly studied
such a city as Rouen, Crailey con-
fessed twinklingly; but, after all,
wasn't there some truth in Martin
Chuzzlewit!' Mr.. Dickens might have
been far from a clear understanding of
our people, but didn't it argue pretty
ticklish vanity In ourselves that we
were so fiercely resentful of satire, and
was not this very heat over Martin
Chuzzlewit' confirmation of one Of
the points the book had presented
against us? General Trumble replied
to this suggestion with personal one
to the effect that man capable of say
Ing a good word for so monstrous
slander-that man, sir, capable Of de-
claring his native country to be vain
or sensitive, ought to be horsewhipped,
and at this Crailey laughed consum-
edly.
Trumble retorted with the names Of
Benedict Arnold and Aaron Burr
And if it comes to a war with these
greasers,' he spluttered alphabetically,
and 1t is coming, mighty soon, wen
find Mr.. Gray down in Mexico throw
ing mud on the stars and stripes and
cheering for that one legged horse
thief, Santa Anna! Anything to seek
out something foolish among your own
people!'
Don't have to seek far sometimes.
general murmured Crailey from the
depths of the best chair in the club,
wheEeunon Tumble, not trusting him,
self to answer, went out to the street
(Tn he continued