Democratic Sentinel, Volume 20, Number 13, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 3 April 1896 — “MIJI-BR-R-R-ICK.” [ARTICLE]

“MIJI-BR-R-R-ICK.”

Miji-br-r-r-Ick! Miji-br-r-r-ick! You fat rascal! What right have you to lay before the fire on that Persian rug, dozing and purring as happy and cosy as a cat can be, while your master is out in the storm? Oh, you needn’t come rubbing against my leg and singing any songs of peace to me! I’m tired of such laziness and contentment. There you are, sleek, dignified, fat and lazy, while I’m almost the exact opposite. Burr-r-rr, what a cold night it Is. There, now, wait until I take off my coat and shake the snow off it. Then I will hang it up —so. take off my shoes—put on my slippers and jacket—draw my chair up to the fire, and light my pipe. Now, now, I didn’t say anything about petting you, did I? Well, if you must be petted, I suppose I will have to do it. There is no one else, is there? Miji-br-r-r-ick—old fellow—l am as happy as a lord to-night. I don’t know just exactly how happy a lord can be, if he tries, but he couldn’t lie any happier than I am. You ought to have seen her to-night. But you don’t know her, do you, old fellow? Never mind, you shall know her, for she is coming tomorrow to sit for me, and I shall paint such a picture it will surely make my fortune. My fortune? Nay, our fortune—hers, yours and mine. “Mmmmmmm, mmmin, mmm.” Now, what are you saying? How did I meet her? Well, you see a poor artist like me doesn't often have such rare fortune, but it seemed as though an angel dropped from heaven a moment to Pluck from danger a wee doggie. There! there! don't arch your back merely because I mentioned your bitterest foe. It was a wee doggie and you abused it. Oh! Oh! You villain! You recognize me now, do you? You haven’t forgotten the other day when I let you out in the hall for a run about, hoping you might catch a fat mouse and save me the price of a steak for you, and how you had a fight with a mite of terrier onethird your size? Um, hum. I see you remember it very well. Where are you going? Don't run away from me as if I were chiding you. I am not, though you richly deserve it. For it was through your fight with the little pup that I made an acquaintance with her. Who is she? Now you won’t know until she comes here to live.

You remember, Miji-br-r-r-ick, how you proudly walked through the hall like a caged tiger that day; how you soon saw that your domain was invaded by the tiniest dog you ever saw. It was then that your sleek fur stood on end; that your gentle eyes shone fire, and you spit as though you were trying to get the taste of a bad word out of your mouth. But the little rascal was not afraid of you. He came bravely to the attack and you had to fight, and fight hard, at that. Mrmrmrm. Y'ou came off victor. Why, of course you did. You great, big bully. He wasn’t half your size. You made him run? Yes, and he ran right under the skirts of the prettiest lady you ever saw. just as she was coming by-the door. I heard the racket, the whole house did, for that matter, and I looked to see what it was, when in you bounded. The little doggie, seeing your flight, took up the pursuit and darted between my legs. In an Instant I saw that you had been in the wrong and took off my cap to apologize for you. What did this vision say, but that it was all the fault of Gyp. Gyp —indeed! As if I didn't know better. How could anything belonging to her, living about her, do anything wrong? But any way, we made an acquaintance with each other, she with Gyp in her arms, and I with you safe behind me. I learned that she sometimes came here to give music lessons to a friend of hers, an artist on the floor above. I didn't know until then that there were any floors above. I thought when I came up this far that I was surely directly beneath the vault of heaven, and when the portress asked me, “Did I wish to look further?” I gasped out, “No, indeed! My clothes are not fit!” for I thought she wanted to introduce me to St. Peter. You don't know it, for I have kept it hidden from you, but I have been seeing her every day since. I suppose her friend must be making great progress in music, for she gets a lesson every day. And I have seen her every day. For just as she would be coming in I would be going out, and I would meet her on the way to the ground. Or she would have finished her lesson and be starting home when I would be just coming up the stairs. How- did I know the time.so exactly when to be there? In the morning look out the window and you will see the corner of the street. Well, she passes that corner every day she comes. you see why I moved my easel, even though the light Is not so good where it is? And some days I would walk a few blocks with her. “Her! father didn’t like the

idea of lie? going to see her friend," she said, “so it was better tbat I did not call until I met her some other way." But every time I walked with her and every time I spoke to her the blood surged madly through my veins until I could hardly keep from telling her how much I adored her. What right has a poor artist like me to tell a girl as poor as himself that he wants to marry her? Why, I can. hardly find a decent living for you and myself, let alone a woman. She is a music teacher and plays the piano divinely, for I have heard her of an afternoon. Perhaps that is the reason I haven’t painted much of late. Listening to her. Well, I begin tomorrow in earnest, for she is coming here to let me paint her. Oh. what joy! Is it any wonder that I’m half wild with delight? For such a picture as I shall paint will make my name and fortune and then boy, you shall see what you shall see.

Mrow-ow-ow. Mrr-r-ow. Mr-ow-ow-umummm. I wonder w hen that foolish fellow will come back? Here he has been out for an hour or two, when he should have been hard at work. And what a bustle he was in this morning. The place was all upside down. After such a hint as he gave me last night about the fat mouse, I think he might have let me had a little quiet here by myself this morning, so that I might have hunted up something good to eat. As if I would touch half of that paltry roll he had for breakfast! I should say not. I turned my back on it in disgust when he placed it before me and said it was all we could have to-day. lie saw 1 wasn’t going to eat it. and took it for himself, with a shrug of his shoulders, and muttered, “ungrateful beast." As if I didn’t know he was dying for it. but was too generous to leave me without anything.

Heigh-ho. Men never understand cats. We are too sensitive for them. That is the reason we get along better with women. Their natures are so much like our own. Well, he cleaned up all the place this morning. Everything was dusty and dirty before. Now' it is clean and bright. There is not much of it. to be sure, but still it makes rather an attractive picture, even for a well-bred creature like myself. I do hope she is a thoroughbred. I hate these models with their loud talk and boisterous laughter. They all like him, and that is why they used to come here so much. They don’t any more. Guess they made so much noise he couldn't hear her play. Well, well, there is his step on the stair and his whistle. Here he is with

his arms full of bundles. Why, where did he get the money? I heard him complaining all day that he was broke, and muttering bad words under his breath. kVords which shocked my sensibilities. Why, he has lost his ring, that beautiful ring that I admired so much. And I know he thought so much of it. lam so sorry he lost it. Mmmm. How he bustles around. He don’t take any notice of me. She is coming. Well, let her come. I’ll show him that he can’t slight me when he wants to. and then make up again w’hen he pleases. I'mummmmm. Meow! Meow! Mmmrrmm. He's looking out the window. There he runs to the door. She is coming. Meow! She is here. Oil, what a darling girl! Her fluffy brown hair, falling over her frosted, rosy cheeks; her dimples, and her long lashes. Her dark eyes, and that beautiful blue suit, which clings to her figure so closely! My! My! Wow! What! Mlji-br-r-iek! You’re getting excited. What is that curious creature hanging about her neck, Miji-br-r-ick? it is detestable.

Well, I shall soon see, for she is taking it off and putting it on a chair. How he watches her every action! How caressingly he speaks to her! And she seems to avoid looking at him. Will she have a cup of tea after her cold walk? Tea? Tea? Are my cal's deceiving me? Why, I haven’t smelt tea since I came to this place; that is, except some evil-smelling stuff the portress sent up one day when he was sick. He must have fallen heir to some grocery store! Of course she will have a cup of tea! What does he do but swing a couple of pokers across the fireplace. Now I know why he had no fire this morning. He was making a niche to hold these pokers. From them he suspends a kettel, a little the worse for wear, but polished, oh, so bright. “I prefer to make it this way,” he is saying,” “although some prefer an alcohol lamp.” The sly dog. “It Is so nice,” she murmur's,“here in this warm,bright room.” And then they talk of other things—the weather, music, art and all the rubbish that mortals in love usually talk about. Mortals in love, did I say? Well, don’t correct me. He confessed as much to me, and my eyes tell me the same about her. Of course, he doesn't see that she loves him. Trust a man for that. AVhy, he wouldn’t believe it if I told him myself. How he looks at her when he talks to her, and how she don’t look at him when she talks to him. But when he grows enthusiastic and tells her how he fought his way through Europe; how he was half fed, badly clothed, illtreated; every man’s hand against him because he had no money. But still he fought on, until he had seen the famous works of art, and had studied under the masters of to-day, had examined the schools of painting, had worked early and late to perfect himself, and had now come to this country, his native land, here to carve himself a niche in the temple of fame, and incidentally to bring to the surface a few tons of gold-bearing quartz. In all this time how she looked at him from under her eyelids, smiled at his story of his student pranks, and flushed at his resolution of stem determination to succeed. And how those limpid, liquid eyes filled with tears when he told of the struggles he had been through. Did he see it? Of course he didn’t see it. If he had, he would have known what to do. As it was he stumbled along like a blundering idiot until he came to the place, where he should have told her what lie thought of her. and he sighed and turned toward the window, locking out into the street where the shadows were beginning to fall. Oh, no. He missed the sweetest sound ever heard in those rooms, the sob that came from swallowing the lump which gathers in the throat when the sorrow afflicts those whom we love. But he did see that it was getting late and that he could not paint her this afternoon. So he brought himself back to this world, and with a bad grace told her that time had flown so

' that he could not see to paint her fn» , afternoon. Mould she come again? ! I es. She would come again to-morrow afternoon, and every afternoon until j the picture was finished. Foolish ; maiden. Under such conditions the j picture would never be finished! Now i she is about to go. She picks up that creature she had about her neck when she came in. How its vicious Httle eyes glisten in the fire light. Why the im- | pudent tiring. I believe it is defying me. You will, will you? Mrowoow ( Mr-r-rw! Fiat. Br-r-r-r. “Miji-br-r-r- ---| ick.” It is all past now. I shall never do it again, but when I saw those beady little eyes blinking at me I sprang for it and tore the creature from her hand. I pawed and shook it. I slapped it and was wrestling with it on the floor when she tried to take it away from me. What! Take first my master, then my prey? The only thing I had seen all that day that looked as though it might be eaten? I guess not. I carry in my paw four sharp claws, and she found it out, for with one movement I sent them down on her hand so hard that they made great ugly scratches in her soft white flesh. And the blood came. And there was a terrible clamor. For when she saw the blood she screamed gently, and quietly simk downward. If it hadn't been for him she would have struck the floor. But his arms were around her and he was crying, “Oh, my darling girl. How did it happen? Sweetheart, it will soon be all right. My dearest!” and other idiotic

expressions. Pretty soon she opened her eyes. She may not have heard his last words, but I think she did. Any way, she saw she was in his arms, and instead of struggling to get away she simply twisted herself around a little, threw one hand over his shoulder, rested her head quietly on his breast and fainted away. This spell was longer than the other. When she came to this time he was kissing her furiously, and she was blushing, oh, so red. Well, I haven’t heard how it came out yet. You see, when he got through kissing her, she explained how it happened. Then I went out. I took a pane of glass with me, I was in such a hurry to go. Of course I didn’t jump to the ground. It was eight stories down. But I knew the window opened on a veranda a little below, and I lit there. He came down and picked me up about an hour later. He was trembling all over with joy, and said he would forgive me. That it was through me lie was the happiest man on earth. That she loved him, and, oh, such nonsense. But when it was all over and I had eaten my supper, he sat in front of the fire and gazed in the dancing flames. Then he looked sad, then sadder, and finally two big tears rolled down his cheeks as he softly said, “Miji-br-r-r-iek.” I wonder why.—Washington Post.