The Lakeland evening telegram. (Lakeland, Fla.) 1911-1922, 1915-05-01

arose within me, and wished to speak.
Again the spectres came together in
q single group and formed a confused
cloud. wherein saw eyes of all colors,
the eyes of my characters, which look
ed upon me with anguish. l grew
! more and more distressed and
ashamed under those looks, so dull
and lifeless.
The tempest ceased to roar, and all
noise died away with it. l no longer
heard the monotonous ticking of my
watch, nor the rustling of the snow,
nor the voice which had spoken to
me.s There was perfect silence, and
| the vision hung in the air, and seemed
to be awaiting some mysterious signal.
And also waited, passionately, with
all the strength which remained in
my weakened soul.
This lasted for a long time, and l
could Iot withdraw my gaze from the
vision, until l cried out at last:
'My God! Why is this? What
does all this mean?"
Then the slow, passionless voice
was heard again:
Reply yourself to you own ques-
lions. Why did you write all those
| things? Without contenting yourself
with real troubles, with the tangible
| and visible misfortunes of life, why
have you invented new tortures and
told them to people, forcing yourself
| to depict your woeful fancies as
though they had really existed?
What do you wish to do? To destroy
the scant remnants of courage still
left to men, and to deprive them of all
hope of better things by showing them
only the evil? Are you, perchance, an
enemy of brightness and hope, and do
you take pleasure in creating the
blacklist and the saddest things, in
order to add, without respite, to the
| disenchantment of the human race?
Or do you, indeed, hate to live by rep
resenting existence as an ordeal with
out end? What is your purpose?
Speak,"
| was dismayed. Strange reproach-
es, were they not? Everybody uses
the same method in writing, especially
when Christmas stories are in ques-
ton. One takes poor little boy or
a poor little girl, and makes them die
of cold, no matter where, under the
windows of some fine house where the
| lighted tree is shining. 1t is a Gus.
tom; l have followed it-that is all
l felt justified and decided to explain
the meaning of my Christmas tales.
Listen" 1 began; Il do not know
who you are, and | do not wish to
know. You have asked me some
questions. Very well, am going to
answer them; and afterwards | hope
that you will not longer deny me the
right to sleep in peace for the remain
der of the night. In portraying these
miseries and agonies only think of
awakening in others sentiments of
compassion and humanity; | try to
soften hearts which, alas, are often
dry and hard
A strange alarming movement took
place among the shadows. looked
at them, stupefied, without understand
ing their meaning. They turned about
in a. silent round, as though a sudden
attack of fever had seized upon all of
them. They writhed, as if struggling
in whirlpool which threatened to
carry them away, to tear them to
pieces. Again the tempest howled.
whistled, laughed, and moaned. And
the spectres trembled; their lifeless
eyes were still as cavernous as before,
although the faint outlines OF their
faces were contracted by horrible.
phantom-like grimaces. The blue phos-
phorescent light wavered under this
silent, incomprehensible dance OF the
spectres.
A cold sweat broke out upon my
body, and my hair stood on end.
They are laughing" said the pas.
sionless voice.
I AT what?" I asked in a voice
scarcely audible.
AT you"
"Why?"
Because Of the Stiffness of your
childish talk. BY depicting imaginary
troubles you wish to awaken good
feelings in the hearts of men for
whom real troubles are sight only
too common! Reflect! II the miser.
able reality fails to touch men, and
does not wound their souls, will your
Idle fancies enlighten their con-
science? And you think that you can
succeed? And you cherish such .
hope?"
The grinning spectres continued
their merriment. 1t seemed to me
that 1t would never end, that l should
see It. filled with terror, until the
day Of my death The tempest, also
laughed cynically, and deafened me.
and still the soulless voice talked, and
talked.
l strove to escape from the obses-
sion. ! wrapped myself in darkness,
full Of grief and rage.
And, suddenly. rolling from my bed,
was cast head-foremost into q dark
abyss, in which I swallowed, suffocat-
ed by the swiftness of my fall. Tho
pitiless laughter of the spectres pur-
sued me. Through the shadows they
seemed to gaze at me, fixedly.
At dawn / awoke with violent pain
in my head, and sense Of distress.
My first action was to seize the pages
in which ! had described the adven-
lures OF the blind old man and his
companion. tore them up without
rereading. l threw the fragments out
Of the window, and they were scat