The Camden chronicle. (Camden, Tenn.) 1890-current, 1910-09-16
Little Rose
By Frederick Hoffman
Copyright, 1910, by Associated Literary Press

ue dllerHOOu sunlight Tell ASIAN
the professors desk He was 9
scholar of no mean reputation, dis
tlnguished among men of letters, 6
rigid student and a master of the
arts; yet, even now within the pro
fessor's deep gray eyes, there was q
CLEAN of something, savoriug not at
all of sociology nor the science of the
people, suggesting no whit of dust
thick volumes, remote from class
room dictates and the rule of college
council. Was it that the professor
smiled?
He held manuscript, sent him fol-
correction, review of his latest
book, accompanied by a brief bio
graphical sketch. The professor was
reading:
1T is noticeable that, from the
first, DR.. Carl Sternbaum, our emf
nent scientist, was attracted toward
the study of human nature in all its
varied phases. A boy of sixteen, he
ran away from home and joined a
band of wandering gypsy tramps, os-
tensibly to make personal observation
OF the peculiar habits of this peo-
pie"
1t was at this point that the pro-
lessor laid down the paper and the
suggested CLEAN of humor took pos
session of his features.
Yes; he had run away. Who would
not have run away from the stern
discipline of moody foster-father
and the continual nagging of a stern
faced aunt? Had his mother lived he
would have scorned this thing, but,
when she died all sympathy and love
went with her and he fought his way
unchampioned and alone.
He recalled again that day In early
spring-a Saturday half-holiday it
was-and yet he sat alone within the
barren spare room, swinging his legs,
detected and distressed. What bust
ness had Aunt Maria to treat him SO?
He was no child, though he was frail
and slender for his age. He was six
teen, and because she had discovered
him buried deep in a volume of his
tory at time when he should have
been drawing water from the we'll
without, she had sent him peremptor-
lily into the cherries room, there to
await his fathers later judgment.
Sixteen-was he not a man? She was
but a woman! A man is always great
er than woman, and his Utmost soul
rebelled.
Again the professor seemed
Weighed down, as on that day, by
the oppressive tick-tock-tick of the
moon-faced clock, looming times
tyrant in the corner. Tick-tock-tick!
1t was very damp and still. But what
was that?
Down the road far out beyond the
gardens whitewashed wall, and the
rows Of nodding daffodils, came a
sound suggesting to the boy many
things. At first it was but a vague
and formless tinkle, then the clear
echoing of numerous bells, laughter
and shouts, the rumbling Of many
wheels. There was a sudden call to
halt, the hoof beats paused awhile,
and above the clatter of the rest, one
voice shrieked, Fine lace for sale!-
your kettles we will mend!-your for
tune while you watt"
With the last blithe statement the
sound ceased Aunt Maria came,
raging from the kitchen, Away" she
scowled, you good-for-nothing beg
gars-away from our clean streets!
Go on to the Black Forest whence you
A gay laugh was the answer to
her ranting and the band went jang-
ling on.
But the gray eyes of the boy with
in grew wide with sudden question.
The Black Forest? There would be
there Of stringent tyran-
ny! There he would be free and gay.
Why not? The window sash was
open. Already it was dusk A mo-
ment's final argument, and he had
dropped upon the new soft grass, was
down the road, away to gypsy-land
They welcomed him, those artless
gypsy waits, made much of him and
claimed him one of them. From the
first, he was useful in countless
ways. He had head for figures and
balancing accounts, and saved the
lawless band many scrape. They
were kind enough. but he. too. did
his part.
Yet what had kept him there, en-
during hardships of summer drought
and winter freshness, accomplishing,
with brave grace? Was 1t that inner
sense of scholarly Investigation sub
thy asserting itself? Was it the mere
obstinate braggadocio of boy, mis-