Atlanta semi-weekly journal. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1898-1920, 1918-03-01

| it poured forth its "tull heart IN pro-
fuse strains of unprecedented art
Il stood and gazed upward enchant'
ed. l knew it at once; there could be
no mistake.
| It's a lark" l said.
Yes" said Nelson, my companion, to
whose English eyes and ears this Won
| der was not new. Yes, it's lark. Play
your mashie!"
I played it-into the bunker I re-
member it all with perfect distinctness
But for Cnce l did not care L was think
| ing of Shelley, of course.
| And so that summer brought me those
! two joys. which only Keats and Shelley
{ could describe, two joys that in their
! simplicity, their evanescence and their
/ charm stand out as symbols of its
brevity.
| Ravenstein was only ten minutes
walk from Bots Fleuri. An old gray
! chateau in the Louis XIV style made
| charming club house. 1t and it's ample
| estate mad once belonged to the royal
domesne, the present club house having
| in it's time, l believe, served as a hunt
| ing lodge for Joseph ii, and it should
| count as not he least of his benefactions
| to mankind that Leopold ii gave it
! golf course. Its eighteen holes are well
laid out, and there l had many glo-
| rlouS rounu Oh the royal ana ahclenI
game.
The work at the legation was light;
| the morning drive through that noble
forest into drowsy Brussels was in itself
delight and in the afternoon there
was the round of golf with George at
Ravenstein or stroll along the country
| roads through that pleasant Brabant
! country, to one of the little Flemish viii
! lagos near by. Marshall and Cousie had
come for their usual summer outing in
! Europe; those of my colleagues who
were still in town used to come out for
| tea, Sir Francis Villiors, the British
minister, and Jonkheer de Weede, the
! Dutch minister. And there was a happy
/ day when my friend Richard McGhee,
! over from London on some parliament
/ tary mission for the Irish party, came
! to spend the day. with the news of tho
! home rule struggle in parliament. We
were reading each day in the London
! Times the progress of the Ulster rebel
/ lion, looming large in the world just
/ then. That is, when we read the papers;
| used to let them lie many morning
/ unopened. until the trial of the Caillaux
! case came on at Paris; we always read
! that with the interest and amusement
| French processes of justice always have
/ for US who are grounded in the common
law of England, though they come to
! about the same thing in the end as our
own.
| l can recall a day, a sinister one m.
| the history of this world, when for
moment | was called back rudely to the
realities of an existence those days of
blue and gold have removed far from
| my thoughts | was sitting at my table,
and through the open window there
came the soft airs of the late June
morning, with the odors and the sounds
| of the country. | had the MS OF my
novel before me and 1 was far away,
over seas and in that distant past, in
little Ohio town that was for the mo-
ment far more real to me than Brussels,
and l was trying to make it as real 10
those who perhaps some day might idly
! peruse on some such summer day as
! that, the book of which l was not yet
sure. And yet it was somehow just be-
| ginning to take form, beginning to show
some signs of life; at times some char
acters in il gave evidence of being hu-
man and alive; they were beginning TO
| act now and then spontaneously, begin
| ming to say and to do things after the
manner of human beings; the long vista
| before me, the months of laborinous
| drudging toll and pain, the long agony
of effort necessary to write any book,
! even a poor one, was beginning to APP
pear less weary, less futile; there was
the first faint glow of the joy of creative
| effort and then suddenly there came
| the jingling of an impatient bell. the I'M
| perative mandate of the telephone, that
| most irritating and impertinent of mod
| ern inventions, that insolent and mop
| portune contrivance that makes ii posi-
| BILE and, what is worse, permissible, for
| any one and every one in town to thrust
| his head into ones drawing room when
one is receiving invited guests, into
ones dining room when one is at DIM
| ner. into ones bedroom when one is
asleep, into ones closet when one is
praying, and to bawl into ones ears his
| idle mind! 1t was, however
| the gentle Omer. with whom one never
| could be impatient.
Excellence, lie prince heriter d'Aut-
| richie a etc assasSine a SaraVeJo.
| C'Your excellency, the crown prince OF
Austria has been assassinated at SARA
| vejo!")
Who. and where? BY whom? And
| why? I had never heard of Saravejo
| had not the least idea where it was In
| this world. if it was in this world. 1t
| was not half so real as that Ohio town
which / was trying to evoke. And the
crown prince of Austria was to me a
| most immaterial person. kind or
| wrath wandering there in those neither
| regions to which so many of that house
/ of HapSDurg nave gone, Ihdl MUSE Ihe.t
| seems to have suffered in itself as much
| evil as il has caused others to suffer
| in this world / must confess that 1t
| seemed a rather unwarranted intrusion
| that morning. 1t meant for me putting
| aside Macochee and going to town at
| once; doubtless there would be a book
| to sign at the Austrian legation.
| Two or three days later there was the
! solemn requiem high mass sung for the
1 RI o. nF
| prince. at the church of st. Jacques
sur Curdenberg. There we were, the
entire diplomatic corps, hurried back
! from the four corners of Europe to as
| semble again, in the church Transform
! ed into a chappelle ardente (mortuary
chapeD by the black velvet with silver
| broideries with which it was hung and
I'VE REST VINIMENT