Orland Zenith, Volume 23, Number 41, Orland, Steuben County, 10 January 1923 — Page 2

THE ZENITH, ORLAND, INDIANA

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fellow. “Mls-ter Swift, If you please, Cousin David Beasley.” Beasley executed a formal bow. “There Is a gentleman here who’d like to meet you." And he presented me with some grave phrases commendatory of my general character, addressing the child as “Mister Swift”; whereupon Mister Swift gave me a ghostly title hand and professed himself glad to meet me. "And besides me," he added, to Beasley, “there’s Bill Hammersley and Mr. Corley Llnbridge.” A faint perplexity manifested Itself upon Beasley’s face at this, a shadow which cleared at once when I asked If I might not be permitted to meet these personages, remarking that 1 had beard from Dowden of BUI Hammersley, though until now a stranger to the fame of Mr. Corley Llnbridge. Beasley performed the ceremony with Intentional elegance, while the boy’s great eyes swept glowingly from his cousin’s face to mine and back agin. I bowed and shook hands with the air, once to my left and once to my right.

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My note-book remained noteless, I and finally, at skme odd evasion of j his, accomplished! by a monosyllable, 1 laughed outrlglt—and he did, too 1 He joined cad donations with me heartily, and wit hat twinkling qulzzlcalness that somehow gave me the Idea that he might he thinking (rather apologetically) to himself; “Yes, sir, that old Beasley man is certainly a mighty funny critterl”

When I went awaj. a tew moments later, and left him still intermittently chuckling, the impression remained with me that he had some such deprecatory and surreptitious thought. Two or three days after that, as I started down-town from Mrs. Apperthwalte’s, Beasley came out of his gate, bound In theisime direction. He gave me a look of gay recognition and offered his hand, saying, “Weill Up In this neighborhood!” as If that were a matter of considerable astonishment.

I mentioned th| I was a neighbor, and we walked o» together. I don’t think he spoke (gain, except for a “Well, sir!” or two of genial surprise at something I said, and, now and then, “You don’t tell me I” which he had a most eloquent way of exclaiming; but he llsteiifi visibly to my own talk, and laughedfat everything that I meant for funny I never knew anybody who gave one a greater responsiveness; he seemed to be with you evejy instant; and how he made you feed It was the true mystery of Beasley, tils silent man who never talked, except (as my cousin said) to children.-^

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“And Slmpledorla I” cried Mister Swift. “You’ll enjoy Slmpledorla.” “Above all things," I said. “Can he shake hands? Some dogs can."

Miss Apperthwaite v.ns at home the following Saturday. 1 found her in the library with “Les Mlserables” on her knee when I came down from my roopa a little before lunch time; and she looked up and gave me a smile that made me feel sorry for any one she had ceased to smile upon. “I wanted to tell you," I said, with a little awkwardness but plenty of truth, “I’ve found out that I’m an awful fool.” “But that’s something," she returned encouragingly—“at least the beginning of wisdom.”

“1 mean about Mr. Beasley—the mystery I was absurd enough to find In ‘Slnipledorla.’ I want to tell you—” “Oh, I know,” she said; and although she laughed with an effect of carelessness, that look which I had thought “for away” returned to her eyes ns she spoke. There was a certain Inscrutability about Miss Apperthwalte sometimes, It should be added, as If she did not like to be too easily read. “I’ve heard all about It. Mr. Beasley’s been appointed trustee or something for poor Hamilton Swift’s eon, a pitiful title Invalid boy who Invents all sorts of characters. The old darky from over there told our cook about Bill Hammersley and Slmpledoria. So, you see, 1 understand.” “I’m glad you do,” 1 said. A little hardness —one might even have thought It bitterness —became apparent In her expression. “And I’m glad there’s somebody In that house, at last, with a little imagination I” “From everything I have heard," I returned, summoning sufficient boldness. “It would be difficult to say which has more —Mr. Beasley or the child. ”

“Watch him!” Mister Swift lifted a commanding finger. “Slmpledorla. shake hands!” 1 knelt beside the wagon and shook an Imaginary big paw. At this Mister Swift again shook hands with me and allowed me to perceive. In his luminous regard, a solemn commendation and approval. In this wise was my Initiation Into the beautiful old house and the cordiality of Its Inmates completed ; and I became a familiar of David Beasley and bis ward, with the privilege to go and come as I pleased; there was always gay and friendly welcome. I always came for the cigar after lunch, sometimes for lunch Itself; sometimes I dined there Instead of down town; and now and then when It happened that an errand or assignment took me that way In the afternoon, I would ran In and “visit” awhile with Hamilton Swift, Junior, and his circle of friends. There were days, of course, when his attacks were upon him, and only Beasley and the doctor and old Bob saw him; I do not know what the boy’s mental condition was at such times; but when he was better, and could be wheeled about the house and again receive callers, he displayed an almost dismaying activity of mind —It was active enough, certainly, to keep far ahead of my own. And he was masterful: still, Beasley and Dowden and I were never directly chidden for Insubordination, though made to wince painfully by the look of troubled sur(juica encWgn cu vb»iw. netThe order of the day with him always began with the “Hoo-ray” and "Br-r-ra-vo” of greeting; aft A- which we were to inquire. “Who’s with us today?” Whereupon he would make known the character In which he elected to be received for the occasion. If he announced himself as “Mister Swift,” everything was to be very grown-up and decorous Indeed. Formalities and distances were observed ; and Mr. Corley Llnbrldge (an elderly personage of great dignity and distinction as a mountain-climber) was much oftener Included In the conversation than Bill Hammersley. If, however, he declared himself to be “Hamilton Swift, Junior,” which was his happiest mood, Bill Hammersley and Simpledorla were in the ascendant, and there were games and contests. (Dowden, Beasley and I all slid down the banisters on one of the Hamilton Swift, Junior, days, at which really picturesque spectacle the boy almost cried with laughter—and old Bob and his wife, who came running from the kitchen, did cry.) He had a third appellation for himself—"Just little Hamilton;” but this was only when the creaky voice could hardly chirp at all and the weazened face was drawn to one side with suffering. When he told us Jie was “Just little Hamilton” we were very quiet. Once, for tan days, his Invisibles all went away on a visit: Hamilton Swift, Junior, had become interested In bears. While this lasted, all of Beasley’s trousers were, ns Dowddn said, “a sight.” For that matter, Dowden himself was quite hoarse In court from growling so much. The bears were dismissed abruptly: Bill Hamraersley and Mr. Corley Llnbrldge and Slmpledorla came trooping back, and with them they brought that wonderful family, the Hunchbergs.

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It happened that I thus met him, as we were bott starting down town, and walked on with |fm, several days In succession; In a (word, It became a habit. Then, one afternoon, as I turned to leave hhn at the Despatch office, he asked me if I would drop In at his house the next day for a cigar

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before 1 started. , T did; and he asked me If I would < me again the day after that. So t is became a habit too. A fortnight els ised before I met Hamilton Swift, Jinior; for he, poor little father of di lara-chlldren, could be no spectator of track events upon the lawn, but lay n his bed upstairs. However, he grew better at last, and my presentation t< k place. We had Just fir shed our cigars In Beasley’s airy, oldfashioned “sittingroom,” and were using to. go, when there came the falni creaking of small

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Her glance fell from mine at this, bat not quickly enough to conceal a sudaen, half-startled look of trouble (I think of no other way to exppef.A’t) that leaped I ’ ’• «i,» the tne death of Jean u rj" know, in ‘Les Misernbles,’” she said, as w-e moved to the door. “I’m always afraid I’ll cry over that. 1 try not to, because It makes my eyes red.”

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And, In truth, there was a vague rumor of tears about her eyes—not as If she had shed them, but more as If she were going to—though I had not noticed it when I came In. • . . That afternoon, when 1 reached the Despatch office, I was | commissioned to obtain certain political information from the Honorable David Beasley, an assignment I aci cepted with eagerness, notwithstanding the commiseration It brought me from one or two of my fellows In the reporter’s room. “Ton won’t get anythlng out of him!” they said. And they wer e true prophets. I found him looking over some docu raen| j n his offl ce . a reflective, unllghtS cigar In the corner of his moufl; his chair tilted back and his feet on a window-sill. He nodded, upon my statement of the affair that brought me, and without shifting his position, gave me a look of slow but wholly friendly scrutiny over his shoulder, and bade me sit down. I began at once to put the questions I was fold to ask him—interrogations (be seemed to believe) satisfactorily answ ■red by slowly and rumlnatlvely strobing the left side of bis chin with two long fingers of his right hand, the white ne smiled In genial contemplation of a tarred roof beyond the window. Now and then he would give me a mild and drawling word or two, not brilliantly Illuminative, It may be remarked. “Well—about that—” he begun once, and then came immediately to a full stop. “■) es?’ i sa id, hopefully, my pencil poised. -

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Dowden, Beasley and I All Slid Down the Banisters on One of the Hamilton Swift, Junior, Days.

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wheels from the hall. Beasley turned to me with the apologetic and monosyllabic chuckle that was distinctly his alone. “I’ve got a little chap here —” he said; then went to the door. “Bob 1" The old darky appeared in the doorway pushing a little wagon like a re-cllnlng-chalr on wheels, and In it sat Hamilton Swift, Junior. My first impression of him was that he was all eyes: I couldn’t look at anything else for a time, and was hardly conscious of the rest of that weazened, peaked little face and the undersized wisp of a body with its pathetic adjuncts of metal and leather. I think they were the brightest eyes I ever saw —as keen and intelligent as a wicked old woman’s, withal as trustful and cheery as the eyes of a setter pup.

“Hoo-ray Thus the Honorable Mr. Beasley, waving a handkerchief, thrice around his head and thrice cheering. And the child, In that cricket’s voice of his, replied: “Br-r-ra-vo 1" This was the form of salutation familiarly in use between them. Beasley followed It by Inquiring, “Who’s with ns today?” “I'm Mister Swift,” chirped the little

“About that— I guess—” Mr. Beasley?” I encouraged him, for he seemed to have dried up permanently. >'ll, sir—I guess— Hadn’t yon bettor see some one else about that?” This with the air of a man who would be but too fluent and copious upon any subject In the world except the one Particular point. I never met anybody else who looked so pleasantly communicative and managed to say so nttle. In fact, he didn’t nay anything at all; and I guessed that tin* faculty was not without Its value m his political career, disastrous as It bail proved to his private happiness. His habit of silence, moreover, was n°t cultivated: you could see that “ibe secret of It” was that he was bom quiet

(TO BE CONTINUED.)

Irish-American.

‘Til tell you what I know,” said an excited old woman as she took the witness stand in a Topeka court the other day. “I ain’t a liar nor a Russian or anything. I’m an American. Just wait till I get my Irish up.” And from the manner in which her Irish came up and stayed up, everybody agreed she was an American, and a very militant one. —Kansas City Star.

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Beasley’s Chri&mas Party

BOOTH TARKINGTON

By