The vidette. (Iuka, Tishomingo County, Miss.) 1912-1967, 1915-10-07
CHAPTER TX.

Christmas came to Misery wrapped
In a drab mantle of desolation. Al
the cabin of the Widow Miller Sally
was sitting alone before the logs. She
laid down the slate and spelling book,
over which her forehead had been
strenuously puckered, and gazed some
what mournfully into the blaze. Sally
had secret. II was a secret which she
based on a faint hope. If Samson
should come back to Misery he would
come back full of new notions. No
man had ever yet returned from that
outside world unaltered No man ever
would. A terrible premonition said he
would not come at all bat, If he did
II he did-she must know howsto read
and write. Maybe, when she had
learned littlo more, she might even
so TO school for term or two.
The cramped and distorted ohirog-
raphy on the slate was discouraglng.
1t was all proving very hard work. The
! girl gazed for time at something she
saw in the embers, and then faint
smile came to her lips. BY next Christ
mas she would surprise Samson with a
letter. 1t should be well written, and
every "haint" should be an isn't"
The normal human mind is a res
ervoir which fills at a rate of speed
regulated by the number and caiiber
/ of its feed pipes. Samson's mind had
| long been almost empty, and now from
so many sources the waters of new
/ things were rushing in upon 1t that
under their pressure it must fill fast,
/ or give away.
He was saved from hopeless com.
| plications of thought by a sanity
which was willing to assimilate with
out too much effort to analyze. The
boy from Misery was presently less
| bizarre TO the eye than many of the
/ unkempt bohemians he met in the life
of the studios, men who quarreled
garrulously over the end and aim OF
/ Art, which they spelled with a CAPT
tai A-and, for the most part, knew
nothing of. He retained, except with
in small circle of intimates. silence
that passed for taciturnity, and q
solemnity of visage that was often
! cons.rccd ir'c surly egotism.
He still wore his hair long, and
/ though his conversation gradually
sloughed off much of its idiom and
| vulgarism, enough of the mountaineer
stood out to lend to his personality q
] ,Nft I,A INIt ~
Meanwhile he drew and read and
studied and walked, and every days
advancement was a forced march
Lescott, tremendously interested in his
experiment, began to fear that the
boys too great somberness of dispo
ness from which 1t sprang. So one
morning the landscape-maker called
on a friend whom he rightly believed
to be the wisest man, and the great
est humorist in New York.
Il want your help" said Lescott
'T want You to meet a friend of mine
and take him under your wing in q
fashion. He needs you"
The stout mans face clouded A few
years ago he had been peddling his
manuscripts with the heart-sickness oi
unsuccessful middle age. Today mer
coupled his name with those of Kip
ling and De Maupassant. One of his
antipathies was meeting people who
sought to lionize him. Lescott read
the expression and. before his host
had time to object, swept into his re
cital.
At the end he summarized:
"The artist is much like the setter
pup. If it's in him. it's as instructive
as dogs nose. But to become eff
cient he must go a-feld with steady
veteran of his own breed"
Il know" The great man, who was
also the simple man, smiled reminis
Gently. They tried to teach me tC
herd sheep when my nose was itchins
for bird country. Bring on your man
] want to know him"
Samson was told nothing of the be
nevolent conspiracy, but one evening
shortly later he fon-d himself sitting
!. at a cafe table with his sponsor ant
self The stout man responded witt
something like churlish taciturnity
to the half-dozen men and women whC
came over with batteries. But later
when the trio was left alone. his fac,
frightened, and he turned to the bo.
from Misery.
Does Billy Conrad still keep stort
at Stagbone?
Samson started and his gaze fell il
amazement. At the mention of tn,
name he saw a crossroads store witt
rough mules hitched to fence palings
1t was g picture of home, and here wa
man who had been therel Witt
glowing eyes the boy dropped uncon
sciously back into the vernacular o
the hills
"IIev We been thar, stranger"
The writer nodded, and slipped hi
whisky.
Not for some years, though" HI
confessed, as he drifted into reminis
cence, which to Samson was like wa
ter to a parched throat.
When they left the cafe the bo.
felt as though he we're taking leav'
of an old and tried friend BY homel.
methods, this unerring diagnostieial
Of the human soul had been reading