« AnkstesnisTęsti »
is like a stone started rolling down-hill. long breath; a great weight seemed to It 's hard to catch up with it sometimes. have been lifted from his shoulders. He You ought to have the help of somebody turned to Hamilton. who 'll throw heart and soul into the task, "You-Harry?” he said, and his manbut-well, I'll try to put a man on it ner betrayed the fact that until this instant who 'll do all that mortal can do."
he had given no heed to the identity of his "I 'll be eternally in his debt, if he suc- benefactor. "You-well, it 's funny it ceeds -and in yours."
should have been you who did this for me! "Wait here, if you please," Shelby said I-I thank you from the bottom of my briskly. He hurried into the hall, and heart. I won't forget. Sometimes, in opened the first door on the right. The his haste, a man 's led to say something young man and the young woman sitting he 's sorry for afterward. And—and supby the table seemed to be startled by the pose we let it rest there for the present.” abruptness of his entrance.
"Yes, sir," the youth responded respect"Beg pardon!” the managing editor fully. He shot a glance at Shelby, and said. “I've something for you to do, modestly retired from the center of the Hamilton. Take these papers" -- here he stage. drew three documents from his pocket- A little later Mr. Hamilton had the “and in five minutes come into the edi- honor of conducting Miss Breelton to her torial-room. Come on the jump! Rush carriage, walking beside her unchallenged in! Give these papers to Mr. Breelton; and approved. Her father, lagging behind and, as you value your bodily safety and them, chanced to overhear part of a brief future happiness, don't tell him how you exchange between Graves and Shelby, who got them. Don't tell him anything. Just had escorted him to the head of the hold your tongue and look modest. That's stairs. all. Good-by!"
“Observe the young folks?” the manBefore he went back to Graves and aging editor said, with a chuckle. “And Breelton, Shelby glanced into the apart- do you mark the paternal attitude? Acment where the telegraph-sounder clat- ceptance of existing facts, is n't there?" tered and where “Baldy" Sanderson, clear “Recognition, anyway,” Graves of conscience, thumped a type-writer and swered. There was a carrying note in his longed for the welcome “Thirty,” which voice, and Breelton caught the words. He in an hour or two would mark the end of wheeled on the stairs, and looked up at his trick. Shelby looked at him and them. In a curious fashion the movement grinned, without thought of chiding or re- suggested that his spirits were rebounding proof; for in the philosophy of a busy from the depths of despond. newspaper a miss is not merely as good as That 's it, Mr. Graves," he said ala mile; it is a mile, and a full mile, at most eagerly. “You 're right, sir; you 're that. Then he went on to the editorial- right. It is n't what I 'd have chosen; room.
but, after all, it 's recognition, sir-recogEven to Shelby the remaining minutes nition." of the five dragged; for Graves was dis- Shelby pursed his lips and whistled posed to silence, and Breelton was not in- softly as Breelton's back was again turned spiring company. Suddenly there were to them. Graves chuckled. sounds of hurried steps in the hall, and in “My boy,” said he, “it's a frightful rushed Hamilton, holding the telltale pa- drop from St. Petersburg to St. Peter's pers.
Bay; but every office-seeker has his paraBreelton snatched them from the young chute with him. And the old rule still man, glanced at them hastily, and tore holds: few of them die, and none of them them into many pieces. Then he drew a declines."
TITHIN a wondrous glass,
'SSENCES of old love I bring A wondrous, magic mirror,
To make the new love sweet. I gaze and see my features nobler shown Oh, many an old and broken thing Than I can dare to own
Makes love complete!
What memories that buried lay
In graveyard of the past How beautiful, how strange
Take resurrection from this day, To note so wondrous graces!
Divine at last! A queen might feel her scepter cheaply sold
If she could thus behold A glass wherein her face is
What whispers on what summer eves, Beyond desire made fair by magic change. What worship overthrown,
What faith a loveless man believes
No more his own!
Who rightly love, who gladly greet the time. What scattered, hopeless dreams arise
And reign within my heart! Their souls and features shown them,
The union of what prophecies, Nobly renewed within their children's eyes. My love, thou art !
TORGET the graves of heroes, and no more laurel give
So many lives are lived by those too sick to live,
So many deeds are done by those too weak to do.
THE BLIND ASS OF THE 'DOBE MILL
BY ELLIS PARKER BUTLER
Author of “ Pigs is Pigs,” etc.
HE great. white mules went by with to catch every word of the voice. Never
the jingling of many bells and the was there such a master. merry cracking of whips, and the little “See, now," said the little blind ass, gray ass of the 'dobe mill, treading his in- "another would beat me with clubs; but terminable round, pricked up his long ears my master has only a whip with which he and for a moment stepped the faster; but urges me on when I stop, lest, perchance, as his course around the clay mill led him some great cart laden with oil crash into around the circle to the left, he dropped me to my harm. He is a good man, and back into his slowly patient pace.
skilful, for never has he led me into harm's “The white mules have turned down a way. He picks the part of the road that road to the right," said the little gray ass is free from stones and ruts that would to himself. “But what odds? Had we trip a poor blind ass.” been taking the same road, I should soon Then he would tread on, led by the rope have been left behind. Blessed be Mary! that was attached to the boom. that such as I may even for a moment In three years the little blind ass had tread beside the great white mules." seen many pleasant things. Now and then
The little gray ass was blind, and he a party of laughing youths and maidens was old, for in the clay mill there is no would pass along the road that lay beside advantage in eyes that can see. For three the clay mill, and the little gray ass would years he had been walking the well-beaten raise his long ears. path around the clay mill, led by a rope "Good, then!” he would say to himattached to a boom that always preceded self. “We have come to a market-town, him, and dragging the heavy boom that upon a market-day. It is a pretty sight." turned the mill. At one point of the track Sometimes an old woman would pass, a huge olive-tree threw a shadow. Some- carrying a basket of garlic. times, when the days were hot, Pedro al- "One thing after another, but always lowed the little blind ass to rest in the a pleasant variation,” the little blind ass shade of the olive-tree.
would then say as he sniffed the odor. "Blessed be the kind master!" the little “We have come to the farm-land again." blind ass said to himself then. “The road Thus round and round he walked, alis long, but there are many olive-trees, and ways in the same little beaten circle of sooner or later he allows me to rest under path, and at night he rested always in the one of them. Truly man is kind, for, same stall in the same little 'dobe stable. blind as I am, how should I get my food At first Pedro had to lead him to the stall, had not my master taken pity on me? but in time the little blind ass learned the Every night he finds me a safe place in path to the stall himself, and when the which to rest, every day he sees me well traces were cast loose and the halter unfed, and in return he asks nothing at all. tied, off he would go to his stall. For three good years now I have had "Now, blessed be mankind," he would naught to do but live well and travel from say, "for making easy the path of all blind place to place, seeing the country."
asses ! The world moves. In my seeing When his master spoke to him, the little days the stables were of a thousand kinds, blind ass would turn his long ears quickly set in a thousand ways, fit to worry the wisest, but now each is as like all the little running step down that hill. Then others as one oat is like another. Truly, Pedro would laugh and say: "Whoa! man eases the way for blind asses. At the Don't run away from us, sweetheart!” end of each day's travel there is a stable, That always pleased the little gray ass. and each stable like unto the others, and For three years the little gray ass plodthe path from the road to each stable ded round the narrow circle of the clay alike, even to the post midway, against mill, seeing the world on his travels, and which a creature may rub his sides." at the end of three years his heart was
For a week or more, at the first, the younger than at the beginning; but as for little blind ass had worried regarding one Pedro, his master, it was another matter. point- the end of the journey. For, like At the beginning of the three years he was all the world, the little blind ass wor- a boy, with no heart at all; but at the end shiped the god Terminus, as all thinking he was a man. At the end of three years creatures do, offering him incense of he had soft hairs on his upper lip, and worry in one form or another. Only his- when he set his hat jauntily on one side of torians and scientists—who are only the his head, it was no longer from boyish joy, historians of matter and mixtures of mat- but because 'Rita was coming down the ter-bother much about beginnings, but road that passed the clay mill. every wise man desires to know “how this That was a bad business, that about thing is going to end.” But as his jour- 'Rita. She was no sort of girl at all for ney stretched out day after day and year an honest lad like Pedro. The yellowafter year, and seemed likely to stretch skinned loafers before the wine-shop, out years and years more, the end seemed smoking their cigarettes, spoke to her to matter less to the little blind ass.
boldly when she passed. “No doubt my master knows," he said "Hello, 'Rita!" they said, and when to himself; "and if he knows, he has no she had passed by they shrugged their cause to worry, so why should I?. And if shoulders and grinned.
shoulders and grinned. Why, her manhe does not know, why should I bother tilla alone cost - But what did the little about it at all, who know so much less blind ass know about mantillas? than he ? Should he, at the end of the He only knew when 'Rita passed the journey, decide to turn back, what more clay mill. Her lips were redder than pleasant than to revisit the scenes I have nature permits lips to be,- for the peace passed? And should he decide to con-. of mankind, I suppose, -and her eyes tinue farther, what more pleasant than to sparkled, and she wore a rose in her black see new scenes?"
hair for coquetry; but none of these things So, like a wise little blind ass, he wor- were known to the little blind ass. Only ried no more, and let the god Terminus two things he did know. When he heard look out for himself.
her light step on the road and her soft But a three-years' journey is not all voice as she spoke with Pedro, the little down-hill. Often, every day, the workmen blind ass stood still. dumped more clay into the clay mill. “Ah,” he would say to himself, "now Then, as the little blind ass felt the new we have got somewhere at last! Now we weight, he tugged the harder at the traces. are arrived at the court, or at least at the
“Here we have a pretty hill," he would estate of a great man; for the ladies are say to himself, “and the good saints be light of foot and soft of voice. A creature thanked for hills; for what would a road may rest here a while and Alap the fies be like that was all as level as a floor? from his sides like an aristocrat." At the tops of the hills are the cool Then his gray nostrils would twitch breezes."
delightedly. Many maids passed the clay So he would tug away at the traces until mill from one month to another; some the clay worked out at the bottom of the bore garlic, and some bore wine in skins, mill and the pull on the traces became and some bore gleanings of the wheat, easier.
and of each there was its own particular “As I said,” he would say to himself, odor, and the little blind ass would cock "the breeze is much finer here on the hill- his ears wisely. top, and now for down the other side !" "We are passing the garden, the vine
And sometimes he would break into a yard, the fields of wheat,” he would say
to himself. “This is a fine country we fields of grain, and hillsides rich with are passing through."
ruddy grapes, and pleasant villages, -- and But when 'Rita passed he held his ears every week the country became more beaumost erect, and his nostrils swelled to tiful in the blind eyes of the little gray their widest, and he turned his head as far ass; for the fields of flowers became more her way as the leading halter would al- and more plentiful. low ; for she had upon her toilet-table in Which is only saying that 'Rita stopped the old stone house back of the bodega a more and more often to chat with Pedro. vial of perfume sent from Seville itself by “Good word!” said the little blind ass. that mythical uncle of hers.
“No wonder my master has driven me so "At last,” the little blind ass of the clay far, for such a land of blossoms was well mill would say, "we have reached the worth seeking. It is a pleasure to wander pleasant valley of flowers. Fine country through such a land." there to the right! Valley-lilies, roses - “What do you think?" said the yellow whiff! Sniff! Um! Fine place for a loafers before the wine-shop. “Pedro is young fellow such as I was once to kick going to marry ’Rita!" up his heels and nibble blossoms."
"Fool!” they said. But there was one But though he stretched out his head, – José — who said nothing. He slipped Pedro never unharnessed him, and the lit- away from his fellows and glided up the tle gray ass went on contentedly when straight road until he saw 'Rita, one hand Rita, leaving a whiff of the perfume be- on the great olive-tree, talking with Pedro, hind, passed on her way.
while the little blind ass rested in the “All for the best!" said the little blind shade of the tree, very happy and very ass of the clay mill. “I 'm past the age content. As José crept closer, the little for nibbling blossoms. Give me a rich,
Give me a rich, blind traveler closed one eye and then the tough thistle any day. And as for this- other. He was awakened by the angry tles, hay is preferable. Blessed be St. voices of José and his master. He heard, Nebuchadnezzar !"
too, the weeping of 'Rita. He heard the So day after day he walked around the voices grow louder, and a woman's shriek clay-mill path, seeing far lands, -seeing of anger, dying into agony and silence,