The Greenville journal. [volume] (Greenville, Ohio) 1850-1918, 1912-10-17

masters he preferred their romanceS
to their novels. He even wrote poetry
in secret, and when his mother discoV-
cred the fact she cried over the senti-
mental verses. The father had to be
told. He laughed and declared that
the boy would some day develop into
a good writer Of advertisements. This
quiet laughter, unburdened as 1t was
with ridicule, was enough to set
Georges muse a-winging, and she
never came back.
After leaving college he was given
modest letter Of credit and told to
go where he pleased for whole year.
George started out at once in quest
of the Holy Grail, and there are more
roads to that than there are to Rome
One may be reasonably sure Of get
| ting into Rome, whereas the Holy
Grail diversified, variable, innumer-
able) is always the exact sum Of q
bunch Of hay hanging before old Dob
bins nose. Nevertheless, George gal
loped his fancies with loose rein. He
haunted romance, burrowed and
changed musically against the hidden
treasure, never forlorn beauty in
| distress, not so much as chapter one
of the Golden Book offered its daz-
zling first page. George lost some con-
| fidence.
Two or three times q woman looked
into the young mans mind, and in his
guilelessness they effected sundry
holes in his letter Of credit, but left
his soul singularly untouched. The
red corpuscle, his fathers gift, though
it lay dormant, subconsciously erected
barriers. He was innocent, but he was
no fool. That one year taught him
the lesson, rather cheaply, too. If
there was any romance in life, 1t came
unlimited, and If courted and sought
was as quick on the wing as that erst-
while poesy must.
The year passed, and while he had
not wholly given up the quest, the
practical George agreed with the ro-
mantle Percival to shelve 1t indefi-
nitely. He returned to New York
with thirty-two pounds sterling out Of
the original thousand, fact that reju-
venated his paternal parent by some
ten years.
Jane, that boy is all right. Perci-
val Algernon could not kill boy like
that"
"Do you mean to infer that 1t ever
could?" Sometimes a qualm wrinkled
her conscience. Her mothers heart
told her that her son ought not to be
shy and bashful, that 1t was not in
the nature of his blood to suspect
ridicule where there was none. Per
haps she had handicapped him with
those names; but it was too late now
to admit of this, and useless, since
1t would not have remedied the evil.
Jones hemmed and hawed for
space. NO." he answered; "but
was afraid he might try to live up
to it; and no Percival Algernon who
lived up to 1t could put his nose down
to Shah Abbas and tell how many
knots it had to the square inch. I'll
start him in on the job tomorrow"
Whereupon the mother sat back
dreamily. Now, where was the girl
worthy of her boy? Monumental ques.
ton, besetting every mother, from Eve
down, Eve, whose trials in this direc-
ton must have been heartrending!
George left the cellar in due time,
and after that he went up the ladder
in bounds, on his own merit, mind
h ic 20 nkt
hand to boost him. He took the in
terest in rugs that turns buyer into
a collector; it became a fascinating
pleasure rather than business. He
became invaluable to the house, and
acquired some fame as a judge and
an appraiser. When the chief-buyer
retired George was given the position,
with an itinerary that carried him half
way round the planet once a year, to
Greece, Turkey, Persia, Arabia, and
India, the lands Of the genii and the
bottles, of arabesques, of temples and
tombs, of many 'colored turbans and
flowing robes and distracting tongues.
He walked and always in a kind of
mental enchantment.
The suave and elusive Oriental,
with his sharp practices, found his
match in this pleasant young man,
who knew the history Of the very
woods and cottons and silks woven
in rug or carpet. So George pros
pered, became known in strange
places, by strange peoples; and saw
romance, light Of foot and eager of
eye, pass and repass; learned that
romance did not essentially mean fall
ing in love or resouing maidens from
burning houses and wrecks; that, on
the contrary, true romance was kalei
doscopiC, having more brilliant facets
than a diamond; and that the man
who begins with nothing and ends
with something Is more wonderful
than any excursion recounted by Sim
bad or any tale by Scheherazade. But
he still hoped that the iridescent god
dess would some day touch his shoul-
der and lead him into that maze OF
romance so peculiar to his own fancy.
And then into this little world Of
business and pleasure came death
and death again, leaving him alone
and with a twisted heart. Riches
mattered little, and the sounding title
of vice-president still less. It was
with distinct shock that he realized
the mother and the father had been
with him so long that he had forgot
ten to make other friends. From
one thing to another he turned in
hope to soothe the smart. to heal the
wound; and after time he drifted,
as all shy, intelligent and imaginative
men drift who are friendless, into the
silent and intimate comradeship of In
animate things. such as Jewels, ivories,
old metals, rare woods and ancient