The Youth of Parnassus, and Other Stories — John Shaqi
The Youth of Parnassus, and Other StoriesSmith, Logan Pearsall
General
The Youth of Parnassus, and Other Stories
Smith, Logan Pearsall
Short stories; University of Oxford -- Fiction
The Youth of Parnassus
and Other Stories
by Logan Pearsall Smith
London
Macmillan and Co.
and New York
1895
_All rights reserved_
To
Philip Morrell
Contents
Page
The Youth of Parnassus 1
The Will to Live. I. 79
The Will to Live. II. 99
The Claim of the Past 125
A Broken Journey 143
The Sub-Warden 183
Idyll 201
Buller Intervening 243
The Optimist 259
_The Youth of Parnassus_
I.
He came straight to Oxford from his American home, Parnassus City, a
town in the Western State of Indiana.
The first time Foley saw him was one wet October evening, when,
splashing across the quadrangle towards his rooms, he noticed a large
umbrella moving through the dripping twilight--an umbrella which, from
its undecided motion, must belong, he had told himself, to some tourist,
who, in spite of the rain and darkness, was finishing a day of
sight-seeing at St. Mary's. But when the umbrella collapsed in front of
his own staircase, and Foley saw the spectacles and pale face of a young
man who turned to enter there, he decided that it must be an agent, come
to collect money for missions or something of the kind. And as he
followed upstairs, in the wet footprints of the feet he could still hear
mounting above him, he asked himself with vague annoyance what right
they had--people like that--to push themselves into the rooms of Oxford
men.
The melancholy footsteps went on till they reached the top; nor did
Foley hear them again descend. Soon after he was told that an American
had come into College, and was living above him; and when he went to
call, he recognized, in the person who awkwardly rose to receive him,
the young man he had taken for a mission agent in the rain that evening.
A thin, small young man, in a long, black broadcloth coat of provincial
cut, he seemed at first sight nothing but the traditional Western
American Foley had read of in books, or seen in the theatre sometimes--a
student who looked curiously out of place in that old panelled room.
The young Englishman talked to him as best he could, asking the
questions always asked of a new-comer; questions which this one answered
with the usual shyness, but in a very unusual voice and accent.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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