The Syracuse Journal, Volume 3, Number 17, Syracuse, Kosciusko County, 25 August 1910 — Page 7

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k—Zelda Dameron—r* By MEREDITH NICHOLSON Copyright, 1904, by The BoMw-Mewill Co. * j,.-, '

CHAPTER XlV.—(Continued.) They began retracing their steps, Zelda walking beside Pollock, to whom she talked with unusual vivacity. She did not speak to Leighton again until the two young men said good-night at ■ the veranda. "What did you treat him that way ' for?” demanded Olive, facing Zelda In : the hall as soon as the door closed. | "What are" you talking about? The ' moon must have ” | “It wasn’t the moon! You said something unkind to Mr. Leighton. He walked back to the house with roe , without ’saying a word. You shouldn’t ! treat a man that way, even if you are my cousin—a fine, splendid fellow like Morris Leighton I’’ “You foolish, sentimental young thing, what on earth has got into you? Mr. Leighton talked to me about Wagner—l think It was Wagner, and he didn’t interest me a bit. I’m going to bed." i She wtent to her room and closed and .locked the door. Then she drew back the curtains and looked out upon the night. Through an opening in th® trees she saw Pollock and Leighton standing together in the highway outside the gate. Pollock had walked out leading his horse and he stood for greater ease in talking to Leighton. The men were clearly outlined, for it was as light as day. Suddenly they shook hands; then they lifted their hats to each other. Pollock mounted his horse and rode offi' | rapidly ! countryward, and Leighton ' turned itoward the Interurban station, i It was Leighton’s solitary figure that Zelda’s eyes followed. She saw him pause just at the edge of a strip of woodland, glance toward the house, and | then wklk slowly away, while her eyes still rested on the spot where she had seen him last. It was a sweet thing to know that Morris Leighton loved her. She had felt thajt it would come some time; it was one of the inevitable things; and his reference to her singing, to the dream, had thrilled her with an exquisite (delight. Any woman might be proud of a love like this; yet she had treated it lightly, almost insolently; and a good woman might not lightly thrust aside the love of a good man! She was still gazing with unseeing eyes upon the moonlit world when Olive came to the door, tried it and found it locked. “Plealse, Cousin Zee, I came to beg forgiveness. I didn’t mean to scold you—about anything!” she said. “Pleasq don’t think I would meddle m your affairs, Zee. I was just sorry for Mr. Leighton, that’s all. He’s so fine and strong and good—and he seemed so dejected, or I thought he did.” “Oh, it’s the goodness; it’s the goodness that I hate!” cried Zelda. "Please go—l don’t know what I mean,” and she thriist Olive into the hall and closed the door. CHAPTER XV. Ezra Dameron had never been happier than during this summer. His life had run for years an eventless course; his interests had been small and he had been content to have them so. But since the gambler’s passion had fixed Its gyves upon him he had become a changed being. He walked with a quicker step; his drooping shoulders grew erect; he was a new man, living In a new paradise that folly was constructing for him. He enjoyed the farm greatly, rising betimes to direct the work of his laborers. Re permltj ted Zelda to drive him in her runabout ' to the Interurban station—a concession in Itself significant of a greater deference to the comfort and ease of living. Jack Balcomb’s flat scheme had hung fire during the spring, with only half the sitock of the Patoka Land and Improvement Company sold; but Balcomb bad (taken It up again, determined to carry it through. Dameron always insisted, when Balcomb approached him, that he did not care to sell the tract on the creek which the promoter coveted; but he never rebuffed Balcomb entirely. It had occurred to Dameron that Balcomb might be of use to him. The young man was, moreover, a new ' species, who talked of large Affairs in an intimate way that fell In well with Dameron’s new ideas of business, and he accepted Balcomb at as high a valuation as he ever placed upon any one. Balcomb called one day at the dingy office in the Dameron Block. “Good morning, Mr. Dameron,” he said. “Your office is positively cool. You ought to advertise It —the coolest place In the city. That’s what I’d do if I had it." He eyed a decrepit chair by Dameron’s desk, sat down ln.it with misgivings, and fanned himself with his straw hat, whose blue ribbon, it may be said, was of exactly the same tint as his shirt and socks. “You are very prompt, Mr. Balcomb. I trust my chance word of the other night hasn’t put you to inconvenience." “Don’t w'orry about me! I flatter myself that I know when to go. and when to come, and a word from a man of your standing is enough for a novice like me. There’s a disposition all along the line to crowd out old men, but I tell you, Mr. Dameroh, we’ve got a lot to learn from the senior class. I flatter myself that I have among my friends some of the grandest old men In the State, and I’m proud of it.” “A worthy sentiment —a very worthy sentiment, Mr. Balcomb.” . “I consider, Mr. Dameron, that any- 1 thing I may be able to do for you Is to my credit. It looks well to the public for a young tyro in business to win the confidence of one of th® conservatives. Doctor Bridges, over at Tippecanoe—>( you know the doctor? ” » “I know him very well, Indeed." Doctor Bridges, the president of Tip-, pecanoe College, was a venerable Presbyterian minister, widely beloved for his many virtues. Dameron’s face lighted at the mention of the name. Balcomb aaw that he had struck the right not® and continued volubly: ."Wall, air. I was the doctor*® secre-

tary tn my junior and senior years, and I shall always feel that I learned more from that venerable old patriarch than from jny books. The doctor used to say to me in that sweet, winning way of his: ‘Balcomb,’ he would say, ‘be hones(, be just.’ , Over and over again he would repeat those words, and they got to be a sort of rule of life with me. But I didn’t come here to take up your lime with reminiscences.” “Mr. Balcomb,” said Dameron, tipping himself back In his chair, “you. have Suggested to me the possibility of selling a strip of land I hold as trustee out here on the creek. As I have told you before, I do not care to sell at this time. I have, however, some lots southwest of town, also a part of a trust, which I have about decided to dispose of. Several factories have been built in the neighborhood, and the lots are Already In demand by mechanics who wish to build themselves homes. I haye declined to sell them separately, as most of those people wish to pay a little at a time, and I don’t care to sell that way. I am at an age, Mr. Balcomb, when I don’t like to accept promises for the future. Do I make mysqlf clear?" "Certainly, Mr. Dameron,” said BalcomH, with a sympathy that was almost moist with tears. “But if you can manage this and sell those lots so as to bring me cash I shall be willing to pay you a Commission—the usual commission.” “IA other words,” said Balcomb, “you wlsli me to find purchasers for the lots andisell them out so as to bring you the money In a lump. How much do you iwant for them?” “l| think for the corner lots I should get twelve hundred and fifty dollars each; the Inside lots I hold to be worth a thousand. But we’ll say fifty thousand for all.” There was an inquiry in his words and his eyes questioned Balcomb In a way that made the young man wonder. It Is not the part of what is known as a good trader to show anxiety, and the old plan’s tone and look were not wasted on Balcomb. The young fellow knew a great many things about human na. and ever since he had seen Ezra Dameron enter the broker’s office lie had set the old man down as a fraud. Thq reason Dameron gave for turning the j lots over to him to sell was hardly convincing. Balcomb was nothing if noti, suspicious, and it occurred to him at pnee that Dameron was In straits; and at the same moment he began to deVise means for turning the old man’s necessities to his own advantage. “pere Is a plat of the property. Suppose you study the matter over and let me know whether you care to attempt" the' sale.”' “As you wish, Mr. Dameron. I’ll corp® in, say, to-morrow at this hour.” “Very well,” said Dameron, cbldly. “I don’t want you to undertake the matter unless you can handle it in bulk." The Dameron addition of fifty lots was an inheritance from old’ Roger Merriam, Zelda Dameron’s grandfather. It had been a part of Margaret Datneron’s share of her father’s estate, and was held by Ezra Dameron in trust foil Zelda. Manufacturing interests had lately carried improvements that way, but Dameron’s efforts to sell lots had not been successful, as his prices were high and the menace of expensive Improvements gave pause to the working people who were the natural buyers. Then Dameron hadp become Interested in larger matters than the peddling of lots, and he had given no serious thought to selling until he felt the need of obtaining more ready money! for uSe in his speculations. At Balcomb turned to go a boy came in with a telegram. It was from brokers in Chicago through whom Damerbn was trading in grain. The market had opened wildly on news that the drought had done little actual damage to the corn crop. An hour later he was advised that his margins had been wjiped out; he made them good from funds he was now carrying in Chicago and ordered the saie of unimpeachable securities to replenish his account. CHAPTER XVI. Dameron, whose mind was singularly prosaic, >had of late been reading into his speculations a certain poetic quality, though he did not suspect It. He had never been a farmer and had only the most superficial knowledge of farming. Yet he had studied all summer long the growth of the corn in his own fields at The He had reckoned the rainfall of the region and compared it with the figures given in books of statistics for other years. He hovered hundreds of sheets of paper during the long summer days, with computations, and played with them as a boy with the knack of rhyming plays at tagging rhymes. He cherished first ithe idea that the year would be marked by excessive rainfalls which would be detrimental to the corn crop, and (■when the government bulletins failed to bear him out in this he assured himself that the year would be marked by late frosts that would destroy the crop over a wide area. He proved to his own satisfaction, by means of the tables he had compiled, that dollar com was Inevitable. This idea took a strong hold upon his Imagination. It was fascinating, the thought of playing a great game in which the sun and winds and clouds of heaven were such potent factors. There was a keen satisfaction in the fact that he could study the whole matter from the secure vantage ground of his own office, and that when he went home at night, there it was across the road from his own gate, under his eye, the beloved corn, tall and rustling, beautiful and calm, but waiting for the hand of the destroyer. Even this, his own, should perish, and yet he was accumulating scraps of paper that called for thousands of bushels of com at a time when it would grieve many short-sighted men .sorely to deliver it to him. An enormous conceit was bred in

him and he fed It upon dreams—« dreams of power. The Chicago broker sent him prognostications and forecasts which the old man threw away in disgust. They were fools, all of them. Ha asked no man’s suggestions; they were afraid of him, he assured himself, when the reports were contrary to his own ideas; and when they coincided with his own notions he flattered himself that they proved his own wisdom. He made good his margins as fast as called on, but continued to buy October corn, basing his purchases on a short crop. Always it was com, com, com? He waited patiently for Balcomb to report, for If he could get fifty thousand dollars more to put into com his triumph would be all the greater. He waited feverishly for the hour which the promoter had set and when Balcomb appeared he could scarcely conceal his impatience. He had just learned by consulting the files of old newspapers at the public library that there was a certain periodicity in the fall of frosts. There seemed to him every reason fs>r thinking that early frosts were to be expected and he was anxious to Increase his investment ’n October contracts. It was the greatest opportunity of a lifetime; to lose it was to miss a chance that a wise Providence would hardly again put into his hands. There was a gleam of excitement in the old man’s eyes which Balcomb did not fall to note. Hb found a pleasure In playing with Ezra Dameron, the hard old reprobate who had always exacted the last ounce of flesh. He quoted again from Doctor Bridges, imputing to that gentleman sentiments that were original in Balcomb’s fertile brain, though none the less noble for being purely fictitious. Balcomb enjoyed his ; own skill at lying, and it was a high I testimony to the promoter’s powers | that Ezra Dameron believed a good deal that Balcomb told him. "Well, sir,” said Bklcomb, presently, after he had given a resume of one of Doctor Bridges’ Easter sermons, “I’ve been thinking over your proposition about the lots, and I’m sorry ” The old man’s face fell and Balcomb inwardly rejoiced that his victim was so easily played upon. “ sorry,” Balcomb continued, “that I can’t do anything in the matter ” He paused and made a feint of dropping his hat to continue the suspense as long as possible. • , “ along the lines you indicated the other day.” “Oh, yes, to be sure! I remember that it was rather a large proposition,” said Dameron, recovering himself and smiling in tolerance of Balcomb’s failure. “Yes; the sale of those lots means time and work, and, as I understood you, you wished to avoid both. Well, I don’t blarpe you. I feel myself that I should prefer to have some other fellow tackle the job. These mechanics can’t pay more than a hundred or so dollars a year on, property. I have friends who went through that in the building associations of blessed memory.” “I don’t believe I need any Information on the subject,” said Dameron, indifferently. "If you can’t handle the lots ” “I haven’t said that, Mr. Dameron. What I said was that I couldn’t do it in the way you indicated. It would take a long time to sell those fifty lots on payments to working people. But I have a better plan. I propose selling them in a bunch.” “Oh!” exclaimed the old man, noncommittally, though his. face flushed with returning hope. “Yes. Large bunches are more in my line. But my friends that I may possibly Interest can’t carry them for their health or yours or mine. You’ll have to make a good easy price on them if we do any business. There are only two or three factories in that neighborhood and there may never be any more. And they’re getting ready to stick a whole lot of fancy street improvements down there. It may cost a thousand dollars to stop that” —and Balcomb grinned cheerfully. “I can’t countenance any irregular dealing,” &id the old man, severely. “Os course you can’t I You’re going to turn that over to me. It isn’t regular, but, as the paying is, it’s done. You’ve got to see a man that knows a man that knows another man tfiat has the ear of the Board of Public Works. There’s nothing in it to make a Christian gentleman shy. I see only the first man!” And Balcomb laughed his cheerful, easy laugh and stroked his beard. “Now, Mr. Dameron, I’ll give you twenty thousand dollars for those lots as they He. That’s cash.” (To be continued.) The Psychological Moment. “Is Miss Wheaton at home?” asked one of the neighbors of the spinster, as he called at her door to get her signature to a petition. : “She is that,” responded Celia Leahy, three weeks over from Ireland, and a most willing hand maiden.“Will yez step In, sort?” “I should like to see her on a matter of business for a few moments if she Is not engaged,” said the neighbor. Celia flung wide the door and waved him in. “If she has wan, he’s neglectin’ her shameful,” she said, in a hoarse, confidential whisper, “for ’tls three weeks to-morrer since I come here, and he’s not put his fut over the t’reshold In all that tolme! Sure, ’tls your chanst!” —Youth’s Companion. Gould'® Son Uses *I,OOO Toy. George J. Gould’s young son Jay has had a miniature of the Missouri Pacific railroad system laid out on the grounds of Georgian court and passes many hours sending trains on a steel track drawn by a thousand dollar locomotive that his father gav<S him as a Christmas present I haven’t seen the pretty toy, but I recall the remark of Henry Clews when we were discussing an article in one of the newspapers criticising George Gould for spending a thousand dollars on a plaything. “Nobody can find any fault with the gift of a toy engine,” said he. “I have bought many a piece of paper from George’s father with a picture of a locomotive on it that brought me sorrow instead of amusement—and wasn’t worth nearly as much, although it cost me a great deal more.”

RARE GH GONE Da Vinci’s “Mona Lisa,” Missing From Louvre Gallery. Celebrated Painting Has Been a Mystery for Four Centuries — Savants Puzzled Over Beautiful Model’s Smile. Paris.—The Lisa” of Leonardo da Vinci, the world famous painting for wh«?h an offer of $5,000,000 is said to have been refused and which is reported to haye been stolen from the Louvre in Paris, for 400 years ! has been as much a riddle as the : Sphinx itself. But one man—Solomon Reinach, brother of the Reinach of notoriety in the Dreyfus affair —ever has been so brazen as to proclaim the solution of the smile that wreathes the face of the woman in the picture. His answer was laughed to scorn by art critics. Others have 'commented on the painting, but Reinach alone authoritatively announced that the mystery was ended. The “Mona Lisa” for four centuries has stoou a monument to French art. For four years—lsol to 1504 —Dq «Vinci, friend of Francesco del Giocondo of Florence, spent his sparq moments at work on the painting. I The model was Mona Lisa Gherardinl, | third wife of Giocondo. According to ■ Reinach, the lovelike expression cm the face of the model is far from indicating love. Reinach asserts that Da Vinci painted the portrait gratis for his friend, when she was in deep grief, to divert her mind. He surrounded her with musicians, singers and buffoons to keep her in gentle gayety. He worked at the painting only when a certain expression appeared on his model's face, brought about by a peculiar strain of music. He bore no love foi; her, nor she for him. Reinach even went so far as to explain the deep melancholy of Mona Lisa. He declared that she was married in 1495 and until 1499 had no children. came a daughter. A death record of Florence,-by which it appears that Fanciulia, little daughter of Francesco del Giocondo and his wife, Mona Lisa, was buried from the Church of Santa Maria Novella on -June 1, 1501, is cited by him. Whether Reinach’s explanation is true or not, it was not received read- • ■ ■ Da Vinci’s “Mona Lisa.” ily by the French. It was known that Da Vinci had sold the painting to his patron, Francis I. of France, for 4,000 gold ecus shortly after its completion. The king kept it locked jealously in his gilded room at Fontainebleau, and upon the death of Francis I. Louis XIV. had it hung in his bed chamber at Versailles. Following his demise it was transferred to the Salon Carre, where it since had attracted world-wide attention. “What is she smiling at?” ever has been the unsolved riddle. To artists Mona Lisa’s smile became in turn obviously saucy, sportive, flirtatious and even naughty, while plain people called her the “jocund one.” Taine discovered in the smile that Mona Lisa had been at least flirting with Leonardo da Vinci, flattering him and railing against her husband. Michelet, the historian, said that he used to go to the portrait “in spite of himself, as the bird goes to the snake.” Theophlle Gautier discovered that the subject of the painting was flirting with the whole world, “this strange creature whose look promises unknown joys and whose expression is divinely ironic.” “She smiles with mocking voluptuousness on the thousands who admire* her,” was the comment of Arsene Houssaye, manager of the Theater Francais, who saw “shining from that smile only the soul of Leonardo in love.” Walter Patter revealed to the world that it was an encyclopedia. “In this beauty," he said, “the . soul appears with all its affections. All the thoughts and experiences of the world have left their traces on it—the animalism of Greece, the lubricity of Rome, the revery of the middle ages, the return of paganism, the sins of the Borgias!” And supplementing this, the illustrious Italian Carottl declared: “She is the emanation of the Intellectual, sentimental and poetic power of her time, with ail the mystery of the human soul and all its destiny.” In Europe the painting also is called “La Joconde” and “Glocotida” and in -t circles it is considered to rank cond in value only to the Sistine ladonna by Raphael. Both are priceless. •. i -

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