The Seattle star. [volume] (Seattle, Wash.) 1899-1947, 1920-08-14
L.. AN
||hffIpp,
S7ORY>l
| "A DAY
! HuMQR PATH0S
ROMANCE
The Poet
and the
Peasant

. (opVfJNls ft@ts w fYho4tRAbf f'bf
! e Co: pHbiished bv special ar
= rancemcnf trifh the Whe7ier Syn
dscafe. lac.
The other day a poet friend OF
mine. who has lived In close com.
munion with nature all his life.
wrote a poem and took II to an ed.
itor.
IL was a living pastoral. full OF the
genuine breath of the fields. the
song OF birds. and the pleasant chat
ter Of trickling streams.
When tho poet called again to sec
about IL. with hopes OF beefstnak
dinner In his heart. Il was handed
back to him with the comment
Too artificial"
Several OF US met over spaghetti
ard Dutchens County chianii and
swallowed indignation with tho slip
perry forkfuis
And rhcrc ve dug q pit for tho
eGltor. With Us was Conant. a well
arrived writer Of fiction--a man who
had trod on asphalt all his life. and
tvho had never looked upon bucolsc
scenes except with sensations OF dis
gust from the windows OF express
trains
Connnt wrote a poem and called II
.-The Doc and the Brook" IL was
n fine specimen OF the kind Of work
you would expect from poet who
had strayed with Amaryilis only as
! far as the florists windows. ana
whose sole ornithologicai discussion
had been carried on with walter.
Conant signed this poem, and we
sent IL to the editor.
But this has very little to do with
the story.
Just as the editor was reading the
first line Of the poem. on the next
morning. a being stumbled off the
West shore ferryboat and loped
slowly up Forty y-second street.
The invader was a young man
with light blue eyes. a hanging lip
and hair the exact color OF the little
orphans tafterward discovered to be
the eari's daughterj in one OF Mr..
Blaney's plays. His trousers were
corduroy. his coat shortsiecyed. with
buttons in the middle OF his back.
One bootleg was outside the cordu-
roys. You looked expectantly. though
In vain. at his straw hat for ear
holes. it's shape inaugurating the sus-
picion that 1t had been ravaged from
a former equine posseasor. In hts
hand was a vaiise--description Of u
il an impossible task: a Boston man
would not have carried hts lunch
and law books to his office in IT.
And above one ear, in his hair. was
q wisp OF hay--ths rustic's letter OF
credit, his badge OF innocence. the
last cllngiag touch Of the Garden Of
Eden lingering 10 shame the gold
brick men.
Knowingly. smilipgiy. the city
crowds passed him by. They saw
the raw stranger stand in the gutter
and stretch his neck at the tall build.
ings. At this they ceased To smile.
and even to look at him. II had
been done so often. a few glanced
at the antique valise to see what
Coney attraction" or brand OF
chewing gum he might be thus din.
ming into his memory. But for the
most part he was ignored. Even the
newsboys looked bored when he
scampered like a circus clown out OF
the way OF cabs and street cars.
At Eighth Avenue stood "Bunco
Harry" with his dyed mustache and
shiny, good.natured eyes. Harry was
TOO good an artist not TO be pained
at the efnht OF an actor OVERRIDING
his part. lie edged up TO the eoun
tryman, who had stopped to open
his mouth at jewelry store window
and shook his head.
TOO thick. PAL" he said critically
too thick by a couple OF inches
I don't know what your lay is; but
you've got the properties on toe
thick. That hay. now--why. they
don't even allow that on Proctor's
circuit any more"
n don't understand you. mister
eafd the green one. I'm not lookin
for any circus. I've just run down
from Ulster County 20 look at the
town. bein' that the hayin's over
with GOSH but it's "A whopper.
thought Poughkeepsie was some
punkins; but this here town is five
times as big"
!. .Oh. we'll" said "Buaco Harry
raising his eyebrows. 81 didn't mean
70 butt in. You don't have 10 tell
I thought you ought to tone down a
little, 30 tried TO put you wise. Wish
you success at your graft whatever