The St. Charles herald. [volume] (Hahnville, La.) 1873-1993, 1918-03-02
Loves
Messenger
Ea%
BY VIRGINIA LEE
BY VIRGINIA LEE

/
guarded covert and deposited upon IN,
grrpusWard ii basket we'll filled. II,
Chucklrd ana gruntcd with eyidcn
Self-Sati~fartion. Then his eyes rested
with Il quick, tender light upon a hoy
iSh-fac"d Notwithstanding man, many
years his Junior, who sat with his bach
I" ii tree, doing.
Beside III" latter was q pad Of blank
paper ana Il pencil, and alongside Of
these was folded sheet Both Mat
ind his friend. or rather charge OF his
were tattrred as to rHimcnt, and 4
Smoldering wood fire, some handy
utensils. made the whole preSrntmrnt
tranpiie in its suggeStivencSs.
Poor fellow" >Olil0quzed Matt
al the rhymes again. suppose. Iii
I Say-famouS luck :" he added. with
a kind Of hilarious cheer to his tones
for the other had suddenly awakened
Erick Doane glanced linGeringly al
the basket and then nquiSitively at the
face of the other
You sold the pocmf" he questioned
eagerly
II did, and no trouble At all Oswald
& Ewing just exactly grabbed it, and
say. ordered another one for a big
sale they've got on for Saturday. |
got two dollars. and were fitted out
with yiandS for three days / hap
| r"n"d e. mention about you and our
! fix, and the head Of the firm got quite
| Interested, and said he'd double the
price if you made the poem funny
| one"
Now, isn't that fine" cried EricE,
! his wan face ag!ow with pleasure
Cheap. TO" cheap declared Matt.
wayGing his head SapiCntly. why. if
"" were fixed So you were comfortable
and easy in your mind, YOU could turn
out regular high-up magazine stuff or
get out book and MI that and make
fortune in year"
"That'S dream. Matt" said Erick,
SArrOwfully. You OvereStimate me.
dear old fellow that you are. can
jingle together a few simple rhymes,
but real poetry takes genius, and I'm
rs that sO?" vociferated Matt storm
lily. Il know better. What did we do
at the last town, where you wrote
dedication poem on a new city hall
they were putting up? Five dollars
from the orator of the occasion. And
the little two-line rhymes you got up
for party of some young folks. Ten
cents apiece. and forty Of them. Say,
Albert TennySOn would have dotted on
you, and Lord Byron would have made
you his close pal"
Erick smiled indulgently, and then
the two fell to discussing the edibles
the basket contained. They were
tramps, homeless. friendleSS, but one
was poet in way and the other
had great purpose in view and they
were by no means Of the ordinary drift
Of hobOeS.
Matt Burns. true professional, had
picked up Erick DOane, who was the
poorly paid clerk of a cheap lodging
house. The latter was frail. sickly, I'M
able to do mans work, and physi-
elan had told him that he could not
live long unless he located permanent
~ in Il warm climate.
Big-hearted Matt took fancy to the
young fellow. He grew proud of his
poetic efforts, he experienced a certain
satisfaction in becoming "the patron
of man Of genius
"Ive adopted you, Erick," he said
one day. Tin going to get you to Flor
ida before the cold sets in, and bunk
down IN some snug spot there, and You
shall develop your literary abilities
while | work the roads. see?" And
now they were carrying out the pro
gram.
'What's the new scrccd. Erick?"
inquired Matt, rs he noticed the folded
sheet lying on the grass.
"Oh, that is set of rhymes of the
love sort" answered Erick casually. |
Il never was in love, but that's the
kind of stuff | would write if were"
Send il to som" magazine, Erick."
suggested Matt, and maybe you'll
catch on"
But Erick smiled obviously. for he
knew that he was simply rhymester
ana not poet. And when next he |
sought to show his love verses 10 Matt |
later on, the wind had blown them |
away or something else was reSpon-
sible for their mysterious disappear
ance.
This was responsible: q dog. smart |
little fox terrier, trained by its indul- |
gent master to carry small packages in |
It's teeth. UnnOticed by either of the |
tramps, little Gyp had scurried across
the grass. picked up the folded sheet.
and holding it daintily scampered back
to the side of its stroling master.
Waldron Rossiter noticed that his
canine fayOrite was carrying scrap /
Of paper in his mouth, but that was not
and he bestowed only cas-
ual attention upon the circumstance.
He was thinking of Meta Brice. and a
certain trace of Self-cOnsciouSnGsS was
apparent in stride and manner as he
passed the house where the beloved
one lived. ROSSiter was Of a shy, re-
firing nature, and he simply lifted his
hat to Meta Brice on the porch and
passed on.
Not 50 Gyp; Miss Meta had fed
hi many ,IJinfia.. tn bp fl