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About The west shore. (Portland, Or.) 1875-1891 | View Entire Issue (Aug. 1, 1887)
THE ISLAND OF REST. wondered why the sunshine had lost some of ita golden lustre, and how long be could bear to sit, passively, while tho bird sang for him, the flowers bloomed, and all nature was intent upon showing him the beauty of work and the wrong of idleness. At last, no took one of the brilliant tropical birds in his hands, ten derly, and said, with sudden inspiration: " I will transfer your radiant taauty ta canvas, and thus mako some return for your sweet song." " Rut when he asked for pslletto and brush, he was told, with a half-scornful smile, " Wo do not iaint pictures in this Isnd of sweet idleness." So the leautiful bird was reluctantly re leased, and the canker of discontent grow space in tho heart of our hero. At length there camo a day when, in a fit of idle musing, the old familiar spirit of the editorial sanctum camo upon and took entire possession of hirn, and be conceived an overwhelming de sire to "write up" this strange and beautiful land, to which ho had been so mysteriously transported; but pens, and paper-where to get them? Experience had taught him tho futility of apjxviling to his fair sovereign, but a rich fund of natural ingenuity sxm came to his re lief. The distilled juice of a crimson berry was made to serve for ink, and the smooth, pearl-colored bark of a strango tree was easily converted into parch ment, while a quill from tho wing of a songnter made an effective pen. To what uho his suddenly-inspired articlo was to bo put, when written, wss a question that never entered his calculations. He only knew that tho impulne was upon hirn, and he mut write. Ho he wrote, and wrote, and losing himself in the bril liance of his effort, saw, in fancy, the readers of tho Champion reveling in his vivid delineations of tho wonders of the unknown lanl, and so engrossed was he with his congenial task, that he heard no warning sound, until suddenly his of. fended sovereign stood before him with uplifted hands, and face distorted with aogt r and disapproval. " Ingrate! " she cried. " How dare yoo? " and snatching his jrork from his , grasp, threw it over a ledge of rock, far out into the foaming sea. M How dare I?" he hissed, springing to his feet in hot rebellion. " Woman, beware! lest your galling chains drive mo to-to" " To what?" she asked tauntingly, m he faltered. "To kill you!" he growled, with a threatening movement toward her. "Kill mo? Ha, ha; that is good," iho shrieked, derisively; and to his utter amazement, she floated awsy from him, out over the cliffs, hung, for a moment, alwvo the briny waves, then swiftly fad ed into air, and disapjarel A cold sweat came out upon his brow, and he sank, trembling, to the ground. " A foul thing of evil, and I in her pow er," ho groaned. Presently a sound fell on his ear, and ho started and listened. It was as if a strangely familiar voic borne to him upon some pitying breeze, were saying: "What is life without a battle?" " Aye, what, Indeed?" he cried, as he sprang to his feet and dashed wildly to the verge of the cliff. There, no1, far sway, rocking on the waves, was a small vessel, and over her bulwarks hanl a slight, welbreiflfmUml figure, with arms held out pleadingly toward him, and the light of an earnest soul shining out eloquently from a pair of clar, trown eyes. " Come cWr,M he cried. " Oh, my guiding star, come closer, and take me from this batl UmUip." Hut even as he ti"ke, it feu Ui him that the welcome vision was reced ing, rather than approaching. Tho pleading arms, still held toward him, were slowly vanishing io dMaix and