The Irish standard., 1909-03-06

Jolly good shadows-and aren't these
walls bullying opt at the bottom bully?
4 used to know the right name for
such architectural stunts when I was
taking fine arts four-dreadful to neg.
'leot your educational advantages and
then forget all the little you didn't
neglect, amt it? l. say, get on to
those balconies-that isn't the right
word for the mission style, guess;
but never mind; aren't they stunning?
DO you see the ladies up there? Is
that Archie staggering? What do you
think of the haunted house, now,
colonel?"
Tracy's gay eyes sought the others
gaze to find it turn somber. Winter
couldn't have told why; but sudden
realization of the hideous peril dog
ging the warm, lighted, tenanted house,
submerged him and suffocated him
like foul gas. Let their guards be
Wgilant as fear, let their wonderful
new search-light flood rock and slope
and dusky chaparral bush; and peer
as It might through the forest aisles
beyond; yet-yet-who could tell!
But he forced an equal smile in a
second for the college boy; and chat
ted easily enough as they climbed up
the stepped arches to the balcony and
the little group looking seward.
Aunt Rebecca in black lace and
Jewels was fitting with the world in
general and Millicent Winter in par
ticular; she displayed her most cyni-
cal mood. She had demolished
democracy; had planted herself firmly
on the basic doctrine that the virtues
cultivated by slavery far outnumber
its inseparable vices; and that most
people, II not all, need master; had
been picturesquely and inaccurately
eloquent on the subject of dynamite
(Which she pronounced the logical
fourth dimension of liberty, fraternity
and equality; had put the yellow rich
where they belonged; and the red
anarchists mainly under the sod; and
she had abolished the Fourth of July
to the last sputter of fire-cracker;
thence by easy transitions she had
extolled American art (Which Ameri-
can patrons were too ignorant to ap.
preciate), deplored American music
;{'ssThe trouble isn't that it is canned"
says she, "but that it was spoiled be-
fore they canned it!") and was now
driving chariot of fire through
American literature; as for the acad-
emics, they never said what they
thought, but only what they thought
they ought to think; and they always
mistook anemia for refinement, as an
other school mistook yelling and per-
spring for vigor.
Just as Winter modestly entered
the arena, no less parsonage than
Henry James was under the wheels.
Janet Smith had modestly confessed
to believing him consummate artist;
and Millicent in an orotund voice de.
clared that he went deep, deep down
into the mysteries of life.
II don't deny it; he ought to get
down Deep" returned Aunt. Rebecca
in her gentlest, softest utterance;
"he's always boring"
Mrs. Melville's suppressed agitation
made her stays creak.
do you really think that James is
not a great artist?" she breathed.
II think he is not worth while.'
"Wow!" cried Tracy. ooh, say"
Aunt Rebecca; you cannot mean
-" this was Mrs. Melville, choking
with horror.
"His STYLE" repeated the unmoved
iconoclast, 'his style has the remains
Of great beauty; all his separate
phrases, If you wish, are gems; and
he is literary lapidary; but his SEN
fences are so subtle, SO complex, so
intricately compounded, and so dis
cursive that get a pain in the back
of my neck before I find out what he
may mean; and them don't agree
with him! Now Is is worth while to
put in so much hard reading only to
be irritated?"
II beg pardon" Winter interposed,
with masculine pusillanimity evading
takes sides in the question at issue,
II thought we were going to have
some music; why don't you boys give
us some college songs? Here is a
mandolin"
Aunt Rebecca's still luminous eyes
went from the speaker to Janet Smith
In the corner. She said something
about hearing the music better from
the other side of the balcony. Now
(as Mrs. Millicent very truly ex.
plained) there was not a ha'penny-
worth's difference in favor of one side
over the other; but she followed in
the wake of her imperious aunt.
The colonel drew nearer to Janet
Smith; in order to sink his voice be-
low disturbing the music-lovers he
found it necessary to sit on pile of
cushions at her feet.
did you know Mercer will be back
to-night?" he began, long way from
his ultimate object. He noticed that
leaning back in the shadow her ready
smile had dropped from her face,
which looked tired. II want to tell
you little story about Mercer" he
continued; may 1? 1t won't take
1on0o