The watchman and southron. [volume] (Sumter, S.C.) 1881-1930, 1912-12-14

| NA "Ai 'iiiC IL yOu ever saw anything
| more exquisite. had 1t done in Lon.
I don, last year. It's copy Of one of
LIE Gascon's."
AT first sight 1t seemed all glitter.
Ing gold, but on closer inspection |
found that the groundwork was bright
red morocco, inlaid with buff, olive,
and marble leather the spaces close
! ly filled with very delicate and beau.
tirui polntille traceries. 1t was q yer.
liable gem in its way, and l could not
| blame Cameron for his raptures
When 1 had applauded and be-
praised to his content, he took the lit.
tie volume from my hand and open.
Ing 1T, with sort OF slow reverence,
observed with something like patron.
ISM
I'm afraid you don't quite under.
stand Baudelaire."
Does anybody" flung back.
He Is not so obscure as his critics
would have us believe" Cameron as.
serted. "Sit down in that lounging
chair moment, and I'll read you
something" And as / obeyed, he
drew up a chair for himself, speaking
all the while in denunciation of Toll
stoi and the injustice of his criticism
One poem after another he read
while l lay back listening. To his
credit he read them well, though he
paused often in mid-verse to explain
what he thought / might regard as an
anectation or. as Tolstoi has put 1t,
AN Intentional obscurity."
There was one verse which i'm.
pressed me particularly as he read
1T, and remained with me for q long
while afterward, for, in view Of every.
thing, 1t seemed to have a special ap.
positiveness. The lines to which
refer have been translated In this
way:
From Heavens high balconies
eee' In their threadbare robes the dead
years cast their eyes,
And from the depths below regrets wan
smile appears
Cameron Fat with his back to the
door leading to the passageway, and
facing, diagonally, across the table,
the Nell Gwynne mirror. My own
gaze was on him as he read.
AS he finished the verse, q portion
or which / have quoted, he lifted his
eyes, thought to meet mine, but his
look rose over my head, and clung,
while his lids widened, and into every
line or his face there came a rigid,
startled expression, half amazement,
half horror. And in that instant of
tense silence the "Fleurs du Nal"
slipped from his nerveless fingers,
struck the table edge, and dropped
with unseemly echo to the floor.
In breath l was on my feet and
staring where his vision had focused.
/ hardly know what expected to see.
l am sure nothing would have sur.
prised me. And yet l was scarcely
prepared for the inexplicable ruin
which my sight encountered. The
glass OF the Nell Gwynne mirror was
In atoms.
Cameron rose, little unsteadily l
thought, and coming around the table,
joined me In closer inspection Of his
wrecked hereditament l can find no
word adequate to the description Of
what we experienced Amazement
and all it's synonyms are far too
feeble for the task. We were certain
ly more than appalled, What We saw
suggested to me spontaneous disin.
tegration. II such a thing were pos.
sible. which l believe 1t is not, II
might have explained the condition of
the mirror. No other ascription
seemed admissible; for. though the
glass remained in It's frame not so
much as splinter having been
dropped, 1t was fractured into
thousand tiny pieces, resembling
crystal mosaic. incapable Of any but
the most minute reflections. And the
change to this condition from a fair.
unmarried panel had been wrought
without sound and seemingly without
human agency.
For just moment Cameron stared
IN dumb awe. When he turned to me
he appeared suddenly to have aged.
HIS eyes were lustreless, and his
cheeks wore n gray pallor.
MY God" he murmured in a kind
OF breathless whisper.
would have given q great deal to
have been able to allay that terror OF
the impalpable which was gripping
him. But l was helpless. Shocked
and astounded, myself, solace was not
at my command. More to escape the
piteous appeal Of his silent gaze than
in hope Of making discovery, | turn.
ed IN haste to one Of the long win.
dows which opened on the outer bal
cony. Drawing back the sashes and
hinging them wide. stepped outside
and, listening. over the railing.
But the night was strangely still
There was no sound, even, Of stirring
leaves A broodinp hush seemeG