The Hope pioneer. [volume] (Hope, N.D.) 1882-1964, 1912-12-26

wax figures in high relief: at the top,
miniature portrait Of Charles II. in
his state robes; at the bottom. one
OF Nell herself, in court dress. The
king appeared also on the right, in
hunting costume, and on the left vas
another figure Of his favorite in less
ornamental garb. According to the
legend which accompanied this in
teresting antique, it was Nell
own handiwork.
1t possessed for me a certain fas-
cination due more to it's history than
Its beauty. for 1t was not the most
artistic of creations, and as Cameron
poked about for his B%audelaire, l
stood gazing at the glass and think
ing of all I had ever read Of the H.
ilterate. but saucy, sprightly actress
whose sole claim to fame hung on her
winning the favor of that easy-going,
royal hypocrite. Charles II.
Here's the binding!" heard Cam
eron say, and turned from the mirror
to the table, where he had found his
sought-for treasure beneath a pile of
heavier. grosser works.
You know something of book
binding" he went IN, with enthusi-
asm. Nov examine that carefully,
and tell me if you ever saw anything
more exquisite. l had 1t done in Lon
don, last year. It's a copy of one of
LIE Gascon's."
At first sight it seemed all glitter
ing gold, but on closer inspection l
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.
t1ful pointille traceries. 1t was a YER
liable gem in it's way, and l could not
blame Cameron for his r%aptures..
When l had applauded and be-
praised to his content. he took the lit
tie volume from my hand and open.
ing it, with a sort of slow reverence.
observed with something like patron
ism:
I'm afraid you don't quite under.
stand Baudelaire."
Does anybody" l flung back.
He Is not SO obscure as his critics
would have us believe" Cameron as
serted. "Sit down in that lounging
chair a moment, and I'll read you
something" And as l obeyed, he
drew up a chair for himself, speaking
all the while in denunciation of Tol.
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 l might regard as an
a1ectation or, as Tolstoi has put it,
IAN intentional obscurity."
There was one verse which i'm
pressed me particularly as he read
it, and remained with me for a long
while afterward, for. In view Of every
thing, 1t seemed to have a special ap-
~positiveness. The lines to which I
refer have been translated in this
way:
From Heavens high balconies
See! in their threadbare robes the dead
years cast their eyes,
And from the depths below regrets wal
smile appears. sr
Cameron sat 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. a portion
Of which l have quoted, he lifted his
eyes. l thought to meet mine, but his
look rose over my head, and chung,
while his lids widened. and into every
line of 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 a breath l was on my feet and
staring where his vision had focused.
l hardly know what I 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 wal
in atoms.
Cameron rose, a little unsteadily I
thought, and coming around the table.
Joined me in closer inspection Of his
wrecked hereditament. I 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
to me spontaneous disin.
t~egration. II such a thing, were pos.
sible, which l believe 1t is not, It
might have explained the conditior Of
the mirror. No ether ascription
seemed admissible; for. though the
glass > remained in its frame not so
much as a splinter having been
dropped. 1t was fractured into q
thousand tiny pieces, resembling a
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.
To BE coNTINuED.)