Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1914-05-12
before | came up here to be a be,

ing to the popularity Of the sport OF
Baldpate mountain, there was neve
any candles on the table where ate
No, sir. left them to the people ul
|. on the avenue-to Mr.. Hayden and hi
kind that like to work in dim surround
Ings-l was always strong for brigh
light on my food. What I'm afraid o.
Is that I'll get the habit up here ant
will be wanting Charlie to set ont
silver candelabrum with my lager
Candles'd be quite an innovation a
Charles. wouldn't they, Lou?"
"Too swell for Charlie's," comment
ed Mr.. Max. Except after closing
hours. I've seen 'em in use there then
6ut the idea wasn't glory and decora
tion."
81 hope you don't dislike the can
dies. Mr.. Cargan," remarked Miss Nor
ton. "They add such lot to the ro
nance Of the affair. don't you think
I'm terribly thrilled by all this. The
rattling Of the windows, and the flick
ering light-two lines of poem keep
running through my head:
my lord he followed after one who whis
pered in his ear
The weeping Of the candles and the wint
is all hear.
IT don't know who the lord was mol
what he followed-perhaps the sew
enth key. But the weeping candles
and the wind seem 80 romantic-and
90 like Baldpate inn tonight"
"If had daughter your age" com
mented Cargan, not unkindly. shed
be at home reading Laura Jean Libbey
by the fire, and not chasing after TO
nance on mountain"
"That would be best for her, I'm
sure" replied the girl sweetly. "Fol
then she wouldn't be likely to find out
things about her father that would
prove disquieting."
"Dearie" cried Mrs. Norton. Nc
one else spoke. but all looked at the
mayor. He was busily engaged with
his food. Smiling his amusement, Mr.
Magee sought to direct the conversa,
ton into less personal channels.
1--WE hear so much about romance
especially since Its widely advertised
DEATH" he said. "And to every man |
ever met 1t meant something differ.
ent. Mr.. Cargan, speaking as a broad
minded man Of the world-what does
romance mean to your
The mayor ran his fingers through
his graying hair and considered Sc
riously.
Romance" he reflected. well,
amt much on the talk out Of books,
But here's what I see when you say
that word to me: It's the night before
election. and I'm standing in the front
window Of the little room on Main
street where the boys can always find
me. Down the street l hear the snarl
and rumble of bands. and pretty soon
see the yellow flicker Of torches. like
the flicker of that candle, and the bob,
bing of banners. And then-the boys
march by-all the boys! Pat Doherty
and Bob Larsen and Matt Sanders
all the boys! And when they get to
my window they wave their hats and
cheer. Just fat old man in that win
dow, but they'll go to the pavement
with any guy that knocks him. They
are loyal. They are for me. And SO
they march by. cheering and singing
all the boys-just for me to see and
hear. Well. that-that's romance to
me-"
"Power." translated Mr.. Magee.
eyes, sirw cried the mayor. ~ know
I've got them. All the reformers In
the world can't spoil my thrill then.
They're mine. I guess old Napoleon
knew that thrill. guess he was the
greatest romancer the world ever
knew. When he marched over the
mountains with his starving bunch
and looked back and saw them In rags
and suffering-for him-well, reckon
old Nap was as close to romance then
as any man ever gets"
"T wonder" answered Mr.. Magee. 1t
came to him suddenly that in each
persons definition Of this intangible
thing might lie exposed something OF
both character and calling. At the far
end Of the table Mrs. Norton's lined.
tired face met his gaze. To her he
put his question.
"Well." she answered, and her voice
seemed softer than its won't II ain't
thought much Of that word for a good
many years now. But when l do-say,
l seem to see myself sitting on our
porch back home thirty years ago.
I've got on simple little muslin dress.
and I'm slender as Elsie Janis, and the
color in my cheeks is-well, it's the
sort that Norton likes. And my hair
but I'm thinking of him. of Norton.
He's told me he wants to make me
happy for life. and I've about decided
I'll let him try. see him coming up
our front walk. coming to call on me.
Have l mentioned I've got figure. a
real sweet Hgure3 That's about what
romance means to me-"
youth. dearT asks Miss Norton
gently.
THAT'S 1t, dearie," answered the
older woman dreamily. youth"
For a time those about the table sat
in silence, picturing, no doubt. the
slender figure on the steps OF that
porch long ago. Not without hu-
morous sort of pity did they glance
occasionally toward the woman whom
Norton had begged to make happy.
The professor of comparative litera-
ture was the first to break the silence.
1.-THE dictionary" he remarked aca-
demically, would define romance as a
species Of fictitious writing originally
composed in the romance dialects and
afterward in prose. But the dicdon-
ary is prosaic-it has no soul. Shall
l tell you what romance means to me?
I will. l see man toiling In dim
laboratory. where there are strange
Hres and strange Odors. Night and
day he experiments. the love Of his
kind In his eyes. desire to help In
his heart. And then-the golden mo-
ment-the great moment In that quiet.
dreary cell-the moment of the dis
covery. A serum. formula-what
not. he gives 1t to the world and a
few of the sick tie well again and q
few of the sorrowful are glad. Ro-