The Bottineau courant. (Bottineau, Bottineau County, N.D.) 1895-1929, 1915-11-11

49, Ivy ~~S ~nd S~NoA4S -
for q gift to q wife or sweetheart, and
even with capable bargaining It must
have been q purchase beyond his
means. It lay outspread before me in
futile magniicence.
In the same package. however. I
found my first useful articles. small
block of those miniature matches that
n may buy in the Chinatown Sec
ton of San Francisco or New York,
which burn with an odious reek Of
sulphur. It was doubtless because
they partook Of the quality of a curl
osity that he had preserved them.
There was also one of those slung.
shots such as may be bought along
water fronts where seamen foregath-
era small leather sack, loaded with
shot and suspended from a wrist.
strap. It would have made a service
able weapon in a close encounter,
where a blow, seemingly from a bare
hand, might crumble q section Of
skull.
From the moment Of its discovery
l wore It as a bracelet above my right
hand, and once it saved my life.
At the extreme bottom of the pack.
age, carefully preserved between two
sheets of thick cardboard, lay a page
torn from a newspaper. 1t was On that
heavy, CLOSED paper which some
journals use for their pictorial Sec
lions and was covered with miscel-
laneous illustrations.
thing away when some impulse led
me to turn it over. What I saw al
tered and remolded all my life from
that moment forward.
A curtain of dusk was beginning to
fall upon the hinterland at the edge of
the forest. The fringe Of cane and
palm was filling up with shadow, and
the peak of the volcano was brooding
against a sky of Furnished copper.
When I turned the sheet it was
as though I had come face to face
with an actual personality where a
moment ago there had been nothing
animate. OF course it was only be-
cause the art of photographer and
engraver had ably aided each other,
but the portrait which worthily filled
the seven columns of glazed paper
was a marvel of lifelike presentment
and of indescribable loneliness.
There are authenticated cases, in
plenty, of men who have loved a face
seen only in a picture. The mona
Lisa" of Da Vinci has laid over many
beholders the hypnotic spell of the
long-dead woman immortalized upon
it's Pygmalion loved his Gal
atea.
l fancy that, If the truth were told,
I loved in the first flash of view the
lady who smiled out at me from the
lifelessness of ink and paper. The
margins of the sheet had been so
close trimmed at the top that no date
Of caption remained, but beneath, the
scissors had left two words: miss
Frances -" and with these two
words 1 must content myself.
But for the picture itself.
i AdS d1lCduy COlslCoSCu uuy ICvC4
ence for beauty. Here before me was
beauty Of the purest type 1 have ever
been privileged to see. It was not
the brush-magic of a gifted painter
who has caught from a lovely model
the charm of line and color and add
ed to them the final touch of idealiza-
ton. 1t lacked all the fire with which
color might have kindled. 1t re-
corded nothing more than the lens
had seen. Yet it's fawlessness requir-
ed no aid of art and asked no odds of
color.
Her clear young eyes smiled out at
me with a miracle of graciousness.
Her perfectly curving lips were grav-
er, and if possible sweeter, than her
eyes. Her chin and throat were exqui-
sitely modelled. Her hair was abun-
dainty massed and heavy.
I could guess from the Photographic
tones that its coils and escaping ten
drills of curl varied in shifting lights
between the red warmth of gold and
the amber of clear honey.
But what most made this a remark
able photograph was its living quail
ty.
So vital was the effect as n look
ed, that it seemed a palpitant person
atty of breath and soul. The lips
might be trembling On the verge Of
speech, and in the quiet smile lowered
a delightful hint of whimsical humor.
The whole bearing was queenly with
that gracious pride which we charac-
terize as royal when we speak of roy
atty as something inherently noble.
; For a smile from those lips a man
might undertake all manner of folly.
The young woman was in evening
dress, and at her throat hung q rope
of pearls.
Suddenly, a transport of rage and a
bitterness Of contrast possessed me.
My hair was matted, my arms and
hands raw and blackened with blood.
I was the picture Of abandoned mis-
cry. The satirical gods now set Tan
talus-Wise before nv yves a Dicture of