Newark evening star and Newark advertiser. [volume] (Newark, N.J.) 1909-1916, 1913-10-02

of snow. And everywhere the dark
and broodng cypress, the copper
beech. the green pine accentuate the
pink and blue and white stucco of
the villas, the rich and the humble.
Behind the terrace is promontory,
three or four hundred feet above the
waters. Upon the crest is culti-
waited forest of all known evergreens.
There are ten miles of cool and fra
grant paths, well trodden by the dew
otees of Eros. The call of love, is
heard here the echoes today rever-
berate with the imprisoned decla-
rations of yesterday. The English
mans reserve melts, the American
forgets his coupons, the German puts
his arm around the robust waist of
his frau or fraulein. (This is nothing
for him. he does it unconcernedly up
and down the great urban highways
of the word)
Again, between the terrace ledge
and the forest lies a square of velvet
green. Astounding in four-leaf clover.
Buona fortuna! In the centre there
is a fountain. The water tingles in
drops One hears its soft
music at all times. Along
the terrace parapet are tea
tables; a monster oak protects one
from the sun. If one (or two fingers
over tea and cakes, one may witness
the fiery glanceS of the setting sun
burn across one arm of water while
the silver spars of the rising moon
simmer across the other. Nature is
whole souled here; she gives often
and freely and all she has.
Seated on one of the rustic benches,
his white tennis shoes resting against
the lower iron of the railing, a Ba-
varian dachel Smoothing comfortably
across his knees, was a man of fifty.
He was broad of shoulder, deep of
chest, and clean shaven. He had laid
aside his Panama hat, and his hair
was clipped closely and was pleas
antly and honorably. sprinkled with
gray. His face was broad and tanned;
the nose was tilted, and the wide
mouth was both kindly and humor-
Gus. One knew, from the tint of his
blue eyes and the quirk of his lips,
that when he spoke there would be
a bit of the brogue. He was James
Harrigan, one time celebrated in the
ring for his gameness, his squareness,
his endurance; Battling Jimmie
Harrigan, who, when he encountered
his first knockout, retired from the
ring. He had to his credit sixty-one
battles, of which he had easily won
forty. he mad Deen OptpOlHIeu Ill
some and had broken even in others;
but only once had he been 'railroaded
into dreamland," to use the parlance
of the game That was enough He
understood. Youth would be served,
and he was no longer young. He had,
unlike the many in his peculiar serv-
ice, lived clearly and with wisdom
and foresight; he had saved both his
money and his health. Today he was
at peace with the world, with three
sound appetites- the day and the
wherewithal to crafty them.
True, he often dreamed of the old
days, the roped square, the lights,
the haze of tobacco smoke, the white
patches surrounding, all of a GER
tain expectant tilt, the reporters
scribbling on the deal tables under
the very posts, the cheers as he took
his corner and scraped his shoes in
the powdered resin, the padded gloves
thrown down in the centre of the
canvas which was already SCARED
and soiled by the preliminaries. But
never, never again; If only for the
little woman's sake. Only when the
game was done did he learn with
what terror and dread she had
waited for his return on fighting
nights.
(To BE Continued Tomorrow