Least of all had it
been brought together to be "realized on" after his death.
"I may be something of a fool, in my own meek fashion," he acknowledged,
"but I'm no such fool as that."
He had a few jades and lacquers--among the latter, the ordinary inkwells
and sword-guards; a few snuff-boxes; some puppets in costume from Mexico
and Italy; a few begrimed vellum-bound books in foreign languages (which he
could not always read); and now and then a friend who was "breaking up"
would give him a bit of Capo di Monte or an absurd enigmatic musical
instrument from the East Indies. And he had a small department of
Americana, dating from the days of the Civil War.
"Miscellaneous enough," pronounced Medora Phillips, on once viewing his
cabinet, "but not altogether"--she proceeded charitably--"utter rubbish."
And it was felt by others too that, in the lack of any wide opportunity, he
had done rather well. Churchton itself was no nest of antiquities; in 1840
it had consisted merely of a log tavern on the Green Bay road, and the
first white child born within its limits had died but recently. Nor was the
Big Town just across the "Indian Boundary" much older.
Pages:
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50