The Spanish Fork press. [volume] (Spanish Fork, Utah) 1902-current, 1908-11-19

ever experienced at the Scribbeys
Inc famous oculist confirmed Lit
tlefords forebodings: poor Blossom had
peen smitten by incurable blindness.
think we did all we could for him
some one of us, sometimes two. went
10 see him every day and talked and
read to him. We found him resigned
put in terribly low spirits. AS his
wiie, poor soul. said, he was patience
itself. his old irritable little ways. his
geniaily domneering manner had gone
with his sight: he would sit for hours.
she told us, with his hands lying limp
| ~ on his knees, his sightless eyes gaz-
ing before him, his lips twitching
every now and then as If his mental
anguish were almost too much for
him. His work had, of course, stopped
We hired skilled typist and took her
round, with the hope that we might
lure him to dictate to her; but the
mans mind was for the present over
turned and incapable of composition
| 1t was evident that something would
have to he done to rouse him from
the dreadful lethargy which was pos
sessing him.
1t was Litteford who hit upon that
something. One afternoon, at tea
|. time, we heard footsteps in the hall.
they were slow and accompanied by
the quick patpat of a stick; the door
| opened and Littleford appeared lead
ing the blind man.
We sprang to our feet with shout;
but Littleford signed to us to moder-
ate our delight. and we came forward
quietly, shook Blossop by the hand
(. led him to his old chair and stood
round him till Littleford motioned us
back to our seats. Blossop returned
our greetings and answered our in
Quiries with amused cheerfulness: we
went on talking for his benefit, as IL
nothing were the matter: but though
he turned his face toward us with
wistful smile. he gradually became ST.
lent, moody and embarrassed. Our
talk petered out; we glanced at each
other in dismay for we felt that Bios
sop would not come again, that the
strain would be too great for him.
What was to be done?
1t was the Chaffinch, the shy, silent
Chaffinch, to whom speech was la
Dor and pain. who sprang into the
breach. Pale and shrinking, he came
from his corner, took a chair in the
middle of the circle and began, at first
in quavering accents, to speak Of Blew
Smith; and, to our amazement, the
Chaffinch praised his last novel.
Now, Blew Smith and all his works
are to Blossop as a red rag is to a
bull. Many AMI many time had Bios
sop denounced the popular very popu'
lar, author whose fiction sold by the
hundred thousand and whose name
was worshiped in all the regions OF
Suburbia. We stared at the Chaffinch
fearfully and then turned our eyes still
more fearfully on Blossop. What was
the Chaffinch at? We soon discovered.
At the beginning of the eulogy Blossop
had listened indifferently enough; but
presently he began to fidget in his
chair, then he leant forward, frown
gathering on his brow, his lips begin
ming to move in the way with which
we were all so IdlIlllldT.
1T is an interesting book" bleated
Chafiinch, "a conscientious work, full
of the noblest thoughts and the most
poetic Imagery. There is not dull
or unworthy line in II The charac'
terization, too, is admirable, 1t is a
perfect work" he stole glance at
Blossop who was writing in his chair;
and | am not surprised that it is al
ready in its fifth ed"
Up spring Blossop. Scarcely feeling
his way by the mantelshelf he stood
on the hearth rug with his back to
the fire in the old attitude; and he
poured forth the walls of his wrath
on the Chaffinch's devoted head.
To our inexpressible JOY and delight
he rent and tore Blew Smiths literary
reputation into shreds and tatters and
strewed the floor with them All
through the torrent which poured over
him. boiled and surged round him. the
Chafiinch sat with placid and shy
smile of satisfaction. We kept our
selves in hand as long as 1t was pos
sible to do So then, when restraint
became absolutely dangerous. we gave
way with roar and yell OF delight
We had roused Blossop; the dear old
man was himself again! We were 60
ing to be bullied as of old. II was all
right. And thanks to the Chafiinch!
Blossop stopped in his harangue and
looked round half confused; but ne
was smiling and still bubbling over;
and we sprang at him and patted him
on the back. crying:
That's your style, Blossop! Let
him have it! He's an imbecile, Is The
Chafiinch We've all been growing i'm
becile for the want of you! Don't you
dare to keep away from the club or
it will fall to pieces. No, no; don't
sit down, Stand where you are and
keep on jawing at us like your dear
old self. Here's your pipe'-some one
chaszaad 1t and thrust 1t into his hand.
4 light, Chaftinch.
:. y PRaffinch came forward timidly
MN q match. Blossop's big hands fell