Macon beacon. [volume] (Macon, Miss.) 1859-1995, 1912-10-25


laughed, but the pretty girls snig-
gered. Many a time he had returned
to his dormitory decorated mot In
accord with the fond hopes Of his
mother) with q swollen ear, or q
rudy p~robosc!s, or a green-brown
eye. There was a limit, and when
they stepped over that, why, he pro-
oeeded to the best of his ability to
solve the difficulty with his fists.
George was no milksop; but Percival
Algernon would have been the Old
Man Of the Sea on broader shoulders
than his. He dimly realized that had
he been named George Henry William
Jones his sun would have been many
diameters larger. There was a splen-
did quality Of pluck under his appar-
ent timidity, and he stuck doggedly
to 1t. He never wrote home and COM
planned. What was good enough for
his mother was good enough for him.
It seemed just an ordinary matter
Of routine for him to pick up French
and German verbs. He was far from
being brilliant, but he vas sensitive
and his memory was sound. Since
his mothers ambition was to see him
an accomplished ~linguist, he applied
himself to the task as II everything
In the world depended upon 1t, just
as he knew that when the time came
he would apply himself as thoroughly
to the question Of rugs and carpets.
Under all this filial loyalty ran the
pure strain Of golden romance, side
by side with the lesser metal Of prac-
ticality. When he began to read the
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
a modest letter OF credit and told 10
go where he pleased for q 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 a
bunch Of hay hanging before old Dob
bins nose. Nevertheless, George gal.
loped his fancies with loose rein. He
haunted romance, burrowed and
plowed for IT.; and never his spade
changed unsteady against the hidden
treasure, never q forlorn beauty In
distress, not 90 much al chapter one
Of the Golden Book offered It's daz
cling first page. George lost some con
fidence.
Two or three times a woman looked
into the young mans mind, and In his
guilelessness they effected sundry
holes in his letter Of credit, but left
hts soul singularly untouched. The
red corpuscle, his fathers gift, though
1t lay dormant, systematically erected
barriers. He was innocent, but he was
no fool. That one year taught him
the lesson, rather cheaply, too. II
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 70
mantle Percival to shelve 1t indef
nitely. He returned to New York
with thirty-two pounds sterling out Of
the original thousand, a fact that reju
venated his paternal parent by some
ten years.
Jane, that boy is all right. Perez
val Algernon could not kill a boy like
that"
do you mean TO infer that It evel
could?" Sometimes a qualm wrinkled
her conscience. Her mothers hear,
told her that her son ought not to be
shy and bashfui, that 1t was not In
the nature Of his blood to suspec,
ridicule where there vas none. Per
haps she had handicapped him with
those names; but It was too late now
to admit Of this, and useless, since
It would not have remedied the evil
Jones hemmed and hawed for Q
space. NO." he answered; but
was afraid he might try to live uI
to it; and no Percival Algernon who
lived up to It could put his nose dowr
to a Shah Abbas and tell how many
knots 1t had TO the square inch. m
start him In on the Job tomorrow"
whereupon the mother sat bach
dreamily. Now, where was the CIR
worthy Of her boy? Monumental cues
ton. besetting every mother, from Eve
down, Eve, whose trials in this direc
ton must have been he~artrending!
George left the cellar In due time
and after that he went up the ladder
in bounds. on his WI merit, MIND
you, for his father never stirred {
hand to boost him. He took the In
terest In rugs that turns a buyer intt
a collector; 1t became q fascinatin,
pleasure rather than a business. H,
became invaluable 70 the house. ant