The Green Forest tribune., 1915-02-05
CHAPTER K.

SnAF C h IA.
 ,x '.hristmas came to Misery wrapped +,, t drab mantle of desolation. At cabin of the Widow Miller Sally
 \, II sitting alone before the logs. She Le ,r' r' down the slate and spelling book,
 ir which her forehead had been . nuously puckered, and gazed some
 ~ 1t mournfully into the blaze. Sally cot Sl. secret. It was a secret which she vi eh. ed on faint hope. If Samson ''>ins uld come back to Misery he would he back full of new notions. No o enun had ever yet returned from that dreside world unaltered. No man ever a'iVeuld. A terrible premonition said he of luld not come at all, but, if he did hllorae did-she must know how to read oer1 write. Maybe, when she had muchfned little more, she might even rkmato school for term or two.
 The cramped and distorted chirog- ty w2hy on the slate was discouraging # tonwas all proving very hard work. The are l gaxed for time at something she facw in the embers, and then faint rican tile came to her lips. By next Christ 2O c,s she would surprise Samson with a tbo ter. It should be well written, and cree cry "hain't" should be an isn't" CTS
 tbo The normal human mind is res tbo vOir which fills at rate of speed wi, gulated by the number and caliber 4 it's feed pipes. Samson's mind had
 sng been almost empty, and now from many sources the waters of new
 ings were rushing in upon it that
 ader their pressure it must fill fast,
 give away.
 'outlications of thought by a sanity ms 'hich was willing to assimilate with ,1llr ut too much effort to analyze. The Hoy from Misery was presently less ny izarre to the eye than many of the rofankempt bohemians he met in the life ext1 the studios, men who Quarreled over the end and aim of
 al A-and, for the most part, knew ragtothing of. He retained, except with ientn small circle of intimates, a silence ed hat passed for taciturnity, and a antolemnity of visage that was often into surly egotism.
 st He still wore his hair long, and. ropshough his conversation gradually sesloughed off much of it's idiom and
 vulgarism, enough of the mountaineer
 Btood out to lend to his personality a q ,savor of the crudely picturesque. Tn Meanwhile he drew and read and l studied and walked, and every days advancement was a forced march. ? tLescott, tremendously interested in his ouexperim ent, began to fear that the s'boy's too great somberness of dispo- sition would defeat the very earnest ness from which it sprang. So one v.morning the landscape-maker called a on friend whom he rightly believed Ito be the wisest man, and the great test humorist in New York
 "I want your help," said Lescott. m sI want you to meet friend of mine r1 and take him under your wing in a # fashion He needs you"
 The stout mans face clouded. A few years ago he had been peddling his 1T manuscripts with the heart-sickness of r unsuccessful middle age. Today men \ coupled his name with those of Kip ling and De Maupassant. One of his t antiquities was meeting people who sought to Honize him. Lescott read the Expression, and, before his host had time to object, swept into his re- cital.
 At the end he summarized:
 sThe artist is much like the setter
 pup. If it's in him, it's as instinctive as dogs nose. But to become effi- cient he must go a-field with steady veteran of his own breed"
 T know!" The great man, who was also the simple man, smiled reminis- gently. They tried to teach me to herd sheep when my nose was itching 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 found himself sitting at cafe table with his sponsor and stout man, almost as silent as him. self. The stout man responded with something like churlish taciturnity to the half-dozen men and women who came over with fiatteries. But later. when the trio was left alone. his face