Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1912-12-05

acquired some fame as a Judge and
an appraiser. When the chief-buyer
retired George was given the position,
with al 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 m~any-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 a 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 rescuing 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 Ia more wonderful
than any excursion r%ecounted by Sin
bad or any tale by Scheherazade. But
he still hoped that the iridescent god
dess would some day touch his shout
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. 1t was
with a 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 a 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, worries,
old metals, rare woods and ancient
embroideries, and perhaps more COM
forting than all these, good books.
The proper tale Of how the afore-
said iridescent goddess jostled (for it
scarce may be said that she led) him
into a romance lacking neither com
edy nor tragedy, now begins with a
trifing bit of retrospection. One Of
those women who were not good and
who looked into the clear pool Of the
boys mind saw the harmless longing
there, and made note, hoping to find
profit by her knowledge when the per-
tinent day arrived. She was a woman
so pleasing, SO handsome, so adroit,
that many a man, older and wiser
than George, found her mesh too
strong for him. Her plan matured,
suddenly and brilliantly, as projects
Of men and women Of her class and
caliber without variation do.
Late one December afternoon Ito
be precise, 1900, George sat ON the
t~ea-veranda of the Hotel Semiramis
in Cairo. A book lay idly upon his
knees. 1t was one Of those yarns
in which something was happening
every other minute. AS adventures
go, George had never had a real one
in all his twenty-eight years, and he
believed that fate had treated him
rather shabbily. He didn't quite ap-
preciate her reserve. No matter how
late he wandered through the mysteri-
Gus bazaars, either here in Egypt or
over yonder in India, nothing aver be.
fell more exciting than an argument
with a carriage-driver. He never car
ried small-arms, for he would not
have known how to use them. The
only deadly things in his hands were
bass-rods and tennis-racQuets. No,
nothing ever happened to him; yet
he never met a man in a ships smoke
room who hadn't run the gamut Of
thrilling experiences. AS George
wasn't a liar himself. he believed all
he saw and most Of what he heard.
Well, here he was, eight-and-twenty,
a pocket full Of money, a heart full
of life, and as hopeless an outlook, so
far as romance and adventure were
concerned, as an old maid in a New
England village.
George, you old fool, what's the
user" he thought. whats the use
Of a desire that never goes In q
straight line, but always round and
round in a c~ircle?"
He thrust aside his grievance and
surrendered to the neverending won
der of the Egyptian sunset; the Nile
feluccas, riding upon perfect refec.
tons; the date-palms, black and mo
t~ionless against the translucent blue
of the sky; the amethystine prisms OF
the Pyramids, and the deepening gold
Of the deserts brim. He loved the
Orient, always SO new, always so
strange, yet ever SO old and familiar.
A carriage stopped in front, and his
gaze naturally shifted. There Is cease
less attraction in specializing about
newcomers in a hotel, what they are,
what they do, where they come from,
and where they are going. A fine
elderly man Of fifty got out. In the
square set Of his shoulders. the How'