The Irish standard., 1911-02-18


out remarking the open volume Of
"The Law Of Torts," with its numer-
GUS pages painstakingly spaced by
slips of paper by way OF bookmnrks,
Is an attcsted fact. That 1T was al
ways the same volume is less widely
known.
Less directly-that is to say, via my
window learned Of him colnpen-
diously from sources which would
have been nnony nous but for my long
acquaintance with the voices OF the
towlspeople. write these pages at
my desk at home and, If truths to be
told somewhat surreptitiously. But
with these voices ringing in my mem
orys ear seemed still to be sitting Mt
my crStwhilc desk by the window,
looking out over Courthouse squire,
chewing the rubber heel of my pencil
the while [ listen.
immediately opposite on the far
side of the square. the courthouse
rises proudly in all the majesty of its
columnrd front and clapboardcd Sides.
church, very severe. with its rows Of
sheds on one side for the teams OF the
more rural members. Behind them all
bulk our hills, dim and purple against
the overwhelming blue of the sky. It's
very quiet There are few sounds and
warcry of rooster somewhere on the
outskirts Of town, an intermittent
thudding OF hoOfs in the inch deep
dust OF the roadway. Miles Stetson
wringing faint but genuine shrieks of
agony from his cornet in n room be-
bind the opera house on the next
street, periodically a shuttle Of feet on
the sidewalk below, less frequently the
whine of the swinging doors at
SchwartZ'S place and above it all per-
haps the slril but not unpleasant ac-
cents Of Angie Tuthill as she pauses
on the threshold downstairs and in
jects surprising information into the
nothing reluctant ears Of Name Gar.
rison:
"He's got six suits of clothes, three
for summer and three for winter, and
two others to wear to parties, one reg
ular full dress suit and another with
out any tails on the coat that he told
Miss Carpenter was dinner coat. but
Roland Earnctte says he must We
meant tuxedo, because nobody
wears that kind Of clothes except at
night, so how could 1t be dinner
coat? And Miss Carpenter told ma
he's got twelve striped shirts and eight
white ones and dozens of silk socks
and two dozen neckties and handker-
chiefs till you can't count and"-
Name punctuatcs this nonologue
with regular and excusablc my
land" and the young voices fade
away into the midsummer afternoon
quiet. I am free to resume my inter.
rupted fight Of fancy. but refrain.
The atmosphere is soporifcrou&, hardly
conducive to editorial inspiration, and
l find the comminglcd tlavors Of red
cedar, glue and rubber quite nourish.
ing.
Presently DR.. Mortimer, the minis.
ter comes down the street in com.
pany with his deacon, Blinlsy Lock.
wood. They arc discussing some one
In subdued tones, but l catch refer.
ences to worthy young man and the
| vacancy in the choir.
Josie Lockwood rustles into hearing
| with Bessie Gabriel in tow Josie Is
rafting volubly, but with hint OF
the confidential in her tone. She in.
| sists that "of course l never let on
but every time we meet I can just fee
him looking and
Bessie intcrposes. "Why. Tracey Tan
ner's just crazy for fear he'll take on
with Angie"
can see Josies head toss at this
II bet he don't know what Angie Tut
hill looks like. That's too absurd
absurd" is Josies newest word. It's