The Birmingham age-herald., 1914-03-22

-u%l of ours, if it were not for i k4FzsAV each of us, for a day or for i l3sys4J year, having the opportunity of @looking at things through the magic glasses of illusion. Thus, soliloquised John Batson of the Daily Gazette, as he sat in the park under the heavy shad- Cows, away from the bright lights listen- ing to the soft strains of the band en- gagged in a rendition of a Hungarian 2 waltz. He had been sitting there for 2 many nights the past summer this soil z tary voyager into the realms of the im- : aginary and always at the same spot 2 little to the right of the bandstand where the shadows were the heaviest, and the strains of the music came the sweetest, unmarred by the chatter of 2 children and the whispers of couples on : benches and on the swa(d.
 But on this night Batson after an hours patient waiting saw little illu- sion in the fact that she had not ap- peared; she had not promenaded near the bandstand as was her habitual wont, and the lonesome looker-on of summer long pantomine was in a quandary to explain this strange absence. And to himself Batson smiled because of his annoyance at her absence. Surely there was no reason to expect her to be at the con- cert every night-she didn't know of the sentimental young man under the trees watching nightly for glimpses of her as she walked by usually in the company of men-young men; addle pated idiots, according to the viewpoint of Batson, who often lectured himself on his growing in- terest in a girl he did not know.
 Batson wondered why on this night of all nights she had not appeared. It was was shining full and bright. And across the park, on the lawns were myriads of Japanese lanterns and the lanterns under the gentle teazing breeze swayed on their loose strings-it seems dancing with joy with each other like intoxicated moons. On all sides gay laughter pre- dominated and the people within the park area seemed so immersed with the band music and the benison of the night that thoughts of the industrial battle to be resumed on the morrow was subdued as the soul became attuned to the witch cry of the summer evening. Life was sweet, and it was good to be alive, thought Batson.
 And also between the band selections in the following stiffness the twanging of banjos and mandolins in the distance hoated on the winds and brought pie ture of the wandering group of negro min- strels playing. their serenades to the workers at rest in the hope of catching a few pennes and also at times the rasping tonal squeaks of far-off grapho- phone were heard. and they sounded even musical to the listener under the trees until drowned out by the band as the , leader majestically raised his baton. And the soft music of the issuing waltz gave that moonlit park a hypnotic spell it appeared Enthusiastically unreal. And why, wondered Batson, on such a night she had refrained from appearing and give the esthetc scene it's last touch of deep etched briliance. He disgustedly lit an- other cigarette and recrossng his legs gazed moodily at the glow in the sky of the city below and knew instinctively that she was there-in the city, beset by all and he was there in the park, un- known to her-a would-be chivalric defen- der-a dreamer of an ideal.
 F He remembered when he had first seen her Certainly she was beautiful-she was entrancirgly beautiful. Who was she? But then what did that matter-it was always disallusioning to know, and Bat son a: heart preferred not to know-idols nave a way of becoming coarse and common on close inspection.
 He visualized her in the blurring puffs of the smoke of his cigarette.
 She was a girl, not a big girl, not little girl-but just girl-a wonderful, wondrous feminine being. Her hair was a glory of bronze and her eyes were in- describable but Batson naively admit ted to himself that they were amber. Her skin had dead whiteness with a beauty all it's own, and there was a soft refined symmetry to cheek and pro- file. Her figure was resplendent with lines that gave the appearance of neither frail nor plump. but the happy medium of truly beautiful woman. But it was her eyes-those wonderful eyes-that en- thralled Batson.
 And this imaginary vision of excellent health and magnificent color had been raised on a pedestal of idea1ism by John Batson--police reporter, whose enemies stated that he wore soft collar be- cause of the corrugated condition of the , back of his neck-and John should have known better. He admitted that him. self. He realized that the pretty picture that he beheld in the smoke and those wonderful eyes could not of certainly belong to a member of the Primitive Methodist. But as Kiplings "A Fool There Was"-Batson ruminated into im- possibilities and always in the puff of smoke was the smiling, challenging face of the girl he had raised to his ideal ]. an unknown whom Batson had never spoken to or knew of Should it be called sentiment or was Batson merely an idealistic fool?