The morning Astorian. [volume] (Astoria, Oregon) 1899-1930, 1909-05-09

the effect due to some pathologleal
condition of the ocular nerveso
However, had slept sound and
was in better spirits than the night
before, hustled about to get break
last; there was nothing novel TO me
in camping out in strange places |
had lived much alone Of late, After
eating. | lit another cheroot and
entered the studio,
The ghost Of Syrinx was gone !
chose a canvas and prepared NJ but
found myself in no mood for painting,
| put my old sketching hat on, my
head and strolled outdoors to get
better notion OF my scenery. Marrow
! footpaths. trodden years ago by Jim
Puddleford in his prolonged solitude,
, strayed in various directions about
the house, They led to the we'll to
outhouses, to the orchard and the
pasture. AS | trampled them, i'm
agined the heavy, bowed figure OF
| Jim plodding before me, He toe,
Ihad had some secret history, some
despair or tragedy too dear for him
to speak of it. The fog rolled silent
lly in, now tightening, now gathering
again; beyond n hundred PAGES ra'
I dius the world was obscure, as II just
solidifying from the primeval void
or else disSolving back into it. Tall
/ yews, some OF them dead and turned
4 brownish red. stood like men in the
mirk, hardly less real than my mag
ined wrath OF Jim Puddletord-with
which, in my solitude, had become
humorously companionable | talk
cd aloud to him, and invented his
answers. Ghosts indeed were my
famihars-Syrinx last night. and now
Jim, The fog turned the world into
ghostland.
! Suddenly | found myself at the
margin OF the stream. 1t flowed 50
soundlessly, and so dense was il:
swathing of mist that | was neat
stepping into it ere | was aware
The path went straight into the water
doubtless there was ford there, The
river was perhaps thirty PAGES across
vet could barely discern the op
posite bank. The water was yer!
dark; its bed was a sticky red clay
A tree on the further shore had Sc
human look | could almost fame!
it to be Jim, beckoning me to com
over. But would not have attempt
ed that ford for a good dealt Th'
wet. red clay sucked at my feet, an'
drew back, feeling chilled; and
laundering through the fog, returned
; to the house in a sort OF tancitu
panic. am too apt to be fanciful
. | built up a new hre in the studio
and decided to pass the rest OF tn
day there, unless the weather chang
, Led. But no change came. Every
|, where was silent, flowing blindnes
{. family red. My thoughts wandered
{ to things which | did not wish 4
!, recall. At last resolved to explor
|. the house itself Il was already
c trifle dusty indoors, so ! lit Lantern
0 Most people have CROPPED their wa
e over old abandoned farm houses, Tn
e rooms were naked and dingy; latter
ed paper hung from the plasterinG
n which had fallen in places The glas
was gone from the windows; som
< had been boarded up, others admit
E ted the weather which had mad
], the floors Shiny with mould Their
was damp, unhappy odor about, bu
e nothing unusual.
h Only, as l entered bedroom, an
+ stood peering into it, was trement
s ously startled to see at the furthe
S side, staring at me, the figure OF
v man. He was bearded, stoop-shoulc
+ cred, and he too carried lanteri
S lin Puddlefordl