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About The west shore. (Portland, Or.) 1875-1891 | View Entire Issue (Feb. 7, 1891)
90 WEST SHORE. TWO DAYS. I eraaed daiaiod Aald : the ikiee inn fair The lnety tnee etrttohed from nil overhead I The ran hook fold doet tiro' the April ir, And 1 (Ud brook leaped don lie pebbled bed. The meadow Urk flan, oat mob Hqnid notee, My happy eoal etood itill ud leaned to beer t The wild eanartee doffed their yellow mil, And turned their reeUeei heede in Jeeioae feer. And, 0, my boert wm fled, for It ww eprini l Blue, bin, Uie dappled ekiee that ewong above ! Bat etlll mora glad my eon , remembering The world wee iweet to me beeanw of lore, II, I craned 1 lonely Held : the ekiee wen (ray The wlnde orept In from ana with eollen moani i Ioe4ooked, loe-bonnd, the brook grieved night and day, Abort the hollow ionnd of falling e With dramming wlnge the mottled pheaeant flew l The gboetly tnee reaohed barren arma aoroea i And, 0, my heart wea aad-eo well I knew The winter world waa dull beoanee of lorn Tlit other day a young Mend of mine tat on a tow (tool, writing-pad on her knew, nd a big pucker on her brow. Presently the lifted two despairing eyet to me, and (aid helpleialjr : " I tm writing to t gentlemtn whom I htve never met, but with whom I htvt had conaideroble correepondenca. He hu been very kind to me in A delicate way, and I tm writing to tlitnk him. How thtll I address him? 1 My dear ilr ' toundi to cold, doee it not? " " It certainly dost," I replied, laughing at her perplexity; "if the gentleman hat been kind to yon he deaervet tomething a trifle more friendly than that. Why not begin note 1 My dear Mr. Blank T 1 " Bht dealt me an unmistakable look of conaternation. " What I " the exclaimed, in a ton fairly brlttling with diaapproval and resentment. " Why, he It married I " " Wall," I uid, laughing outright, " what if he It married T It it not going to break hit marriage vowt for you to eddreet him at ' dear Mr. Dlank.' It it a mere matter of form, to common, Indeed, thtt It meant nothing aave that you have a kindly lntereet in him. It it a beautiful way to begin a letter warm enough to be friendly, aulllclently brief to be busl nett like, and cool enough to be formal. Put 1 my ' before the adjective and you Increaae the formality, Jutt u the cloce of the letter ' I tm yourt tlnoerely ' it more formal than aimply ' yourt tlncerely.' " " Well," tald my young friend, drawing t long breath of relief, " that U perfectly lovely, If yon are ture about It. Why, a few monlbt ago I wrote A letter to a gentleman and addreated him at ' dear Mr. Bo-and-so; ' and Aunt Helen aaw It, and from the way the looked at me I thought I thould die of mortification. 1 It I: poatlble,' (aid the, and I with you could have heard the emphatla It waa tragic, ' that a niece of mind bat come to UiitT To call A man dear I ' I tried to explain that I didn't mean anything, but the only moaned and wrong her handt, and laid I waa on the road to destruction. I felt dreadfully about II, became I thought the ought to know, and t) Uiit day I have never written 1 dear Mr. Anybody.' " " But," laid I, " conaider. Your correspondent la a 1 tir ' and he it a 'uilaUr;' why thould 'dear mltter' be more familiar than 'dear tir?' Again, at ' my dear air ' It conaldered more courteoui and elegant than 'deaf ilr, to I think 'my dear Mr. Blank' la preferable to 'dear Mr. Blank.' " The rote 111 trailed, and to did the violets above them ; and I observed that " my dear Mr. Blank " grew beneath Ihe firmly held pen on the amooth paper; and wot it me if ever Aunt Helen leamt tint I have raveled her crooked itltt-hea out of the fabric of my young friend'a mind. .i Wntiful Ivrics of Bums owe their ezietence "TTh 2d ofiSJy St Would George Sand fan, to u,e v.ce wh, b led W her teQay written ' Consue ,o or E I el rf Uonal matron? 1 hy, ee We aU know that the world is full 7wZ::, shine, of genius never be- Ll Insomedarit, far foreat . bird may aing forever tweeter than ever sang before, and it may, too, die of that very pasaion of melody in if S t e bit and nobody hear, or know, or care; to . to icel e , genius may I in.lonely breast in tome quiet country or in the fobbing heart of The city, "d the mad world never hear it or recogmae it. If we begin to excuse breaking of the law of morality by genuises, bow would we dare to draw the line, or aay who had the eoul of the geniu.? I Am afraid we woS ta meeting them at every turn. Would it not be better to leave geniu. out, and aay with a tublim. charity: " The .trong-paseioned one. enjoy and suffer, and die of that very enjoyment and suffering; And you who have more calmly flowing blood and paler pawions, judge them not, for you do not understand. Though their pleasure, unto your, are like red deet wine unto water, their soilerings therefore are like the terrible passions of a lion unto the frolic, of the lamb, or like the wild lashing of a mighty ocean to the low laughter of a mountain rill." But even then would we not all be crying from the house-topa that our passion, were .tronger than our nature's strength, and that we had been tempted beyond all endurance t For our every sin, brothers, from the first white lie to the foulest murder have we not ever our own excuse? " Auntie," .aid my little niece one day, " what is a bore ? " "A bore," responded I with cheerful Alacrity, for I can always answer a question like that with happiness, " a bore, my dear, is a person who talk, a great deal about himself and what interests him only; who tells yon all About him self and his family and bis coat of arms; who spreads his dress out in the street car (" III. dress! 0, auntie I " from my listener) so no one can tit down ; who says when she I mean he meets you, ' Why, deerest, how ill you are looking! You are really falling off dreadfully in looks. Is It the wearing of yonr hair' with such a smile-' or it it the wearing of the years? ' Who tells you that he it your true friend, that he always defends yon from your enemies, and that he h'm it called upon to do to every day of his life; who tells you that your new gown does very well, Indeed, considering that it was not made by a stylish milliner; who comet to din. with you without an invitation, and ays he knew he would be welcome at Any time ; who tell, you that the that it, he thinkt It a thame that people should not like you, and ehould aay auch ugly things of you; who" " Auntie," interrupted my little niece, solemnly, dropping her round chin Into the palm of her band and looking at me with very large eyes, Indeed, " what very dreadful people bores are don't you think to?" " Very," replied I, briskly, for I wit just waxing eloquent and didn't relish Interruption; " and a bore it" " But, auntie," again interrupted the child, and she edged a little nearer to my knee in the firelight, " might not a person who it always telling about other bores, heraell be considered a bo" " Well, for the asking of Irrelevant and senseless questions," retorted I, rising and pushing my chair back with tome vindictlvenest, " commend me to a niece!" Such boret at children are, anyhow. Brethren, life It, alter all, not so much t straggle between the rich And the poor, the prosperou. and the unfortunate, the ttrong and the weak, at it It one long, passionate struggle between the body and that free, wild, death leas thing that we name the soul. The one drags us down, bat the other holds fast forever and says, " Come higher." There it nothing like it on earth, aave the love of a good woman. If any one who hue eyes to see and a heart to love can read Browning's " Meeting at Night and " Parting at Morning " and honestly say he doe. not understand them, It is because those eyes are dull and that heart hu never loved. Nothing finer in sentiment and passion was ever written. An Kngliah critic It of the opinion that the llvee of men end women of genlut art exceptional In the tenae of not ahaolutcly conforming with the conventional atandard of propriety. He cltet at proof of tliia statement the live of Marlowe, Byron, Burnt, Shakespeare, Shelley, George Sand, George Kllot, and many others ; but hi conveniently forget, how white and true were the live of Mn. Browning, Jean Ingelow, Helen Hunt Jackaon, the Oary ilelert, And A host ol others, Pid (heat women, then, have no genlua? Further, thla critic eeerai rather to lean to tin opinion tint geniut It ex empted from the ordinary law of moral reaponaiblllly, and he aaka : " Who That one't head anggesU great possibilities meant nothing unless It suggeata, also, great firmness, great patience, great virtue. For every Utile child that d'es Is there a new flower opens In the spring a white flower? a chin"01111" " 11,6 '"10W " "V" k hen Pul cleft h I