Newark evening star and Newark advertiser. [volume] (Newark, N.J.) 1909-1916, 1913-11-10
Seuen Kegs to BqZdpate

"A fire. l long to see one. Let US
go to your room, by all means"
Mr.. Bland sulkily stalked to his
mattress and secured gaily colored
quilt, which he wound about his form.
"This is positively the last experts
ence meeting / attend tonight" he
growled.
They assembled to number seven.
Mr.. Magee piled fresh logs on the
fire; Mr.. Bland saw to it that the
door was not tightly closed. The
professor removed, along with other
impedimenta, his ear tabs, which
were connected by rubber cord. He
waved them like risky detached ears
before him.
An old mans weakness" he re-
marked. Foolish, they may seem to
you. But | assure you l found them
useful companions in climbing Bald
pate Mountain at this hour
He sat down in the largest chair
suite seven owned, and from it's
depths smiled benignly at the two
young men.
for my apparel, am 1? Hardly. You
are saying to yourselves why is he
here?' Yes, that is the question that
disturbs you. What has brought this
domesticated college professor scamp
ering from the Pagan Renaissance
to Baldpate Inn? For answer,
must ask YOU to go back with me q
weeks time, and gaze at q picture
from the rather dreary academic
kaleidoscope that is my life.
j am seated back of a desk on a
platform in a bare yellow room In
front of me, tier on tier, sit a hum
dred young men in various attitudes
OF lnattention. / am trying to tell
them something of the IDEAL poetry
that marked the rebirth of the Saxon
genius They are bored. I--wcll.
gentlemen, in confidence, even the
mind of college professor has been
known to wander at4times from the
subject in hand. And then--I begin
to read poen--a poem descriptive
of a woman dead six hundred years
and more. All. gentlemen"
He sat erect on the edge of his
great chair. Back OF the thick lenses
of his spectacles he had eyes that
still could flash.
This Is not an era of romance"
he said. Our people grub in the
dirt for the dollar Their visions
perish. Their souls grow stale. yet,
now and then. at most inopportuns
times. comes the fash that reveals to
40 ti3 SiOtltS tAidt iiil6lll Dt. a Rcn~
l.tleman of my acquaintance caught a
glimpse of perfect happiness while he
was in the midst of an effort to cor
ner the pickle market. Another
evolved the scheme of a perfect ode
TO the essential purity of woman in
a Broadway restaurant. So. like
lightning across the BLACKLIST sky. our
poetic moments come"
Mr.. Bland wrapped his gay quilt
more secure about him. Mr.. MAGGIE
smiled encouragement on the newest
raconteur.
IT shall be brief" continued Pro-
fessor Bolton. Heaven knows that
pedagoSic room was no place for
visions. nor were those athletic young
men fit companions for soul gone
giddy. Yeti lost my head. As
read on there returned to my heart
a glow | had not known In forty
years. The bard spoke of her hair:
Her yellow lockes, crisped like
golden wyre.
About her shoulders weren loosely
she'd
and ! saw, as in a dream-ahem,
can trust you gentlemen--a girl \
supposed l had forever forgot in the
mold and dust OF my later years. I
win not go further into the matter.
My wife's hair is black.
fTo BE Conffnusd rseeFrszsa