Part 11 (1/2)

”Owe, hell!” he retorted ”Who's talking about 'owe'? And you my brother--my own flesh and blood! Why, Thee, for that matter, I owe you half of 'On the Banks,' and you know it You can't go on living like this You're sick and discouraged You can't fool ot to come out of this! damn it--don't you see--don't make me”--and he took out his handkerchief and wiped his eyes ”You can't help yourself now, but you can later, don't you see?

Coive o without you,” and he began looking about forand trunk

I still protested weakly, but in vain His affection was so overwhel and tender that it ether Then he paid the bill, a s a roll of bills on me, all that he had with him I was coe in a suit, hat, shoes, underwear, all that I needed A bedroo his suite at the hotel was taken, and for two days I lived there, later acco him in his car to a fae of an old friend of his, a well-known ex-wrestler whose fareat Here I was booked for six weeks, all expenses paid, until I should ”be on ain,” as he expressed it

Then he left, only to visit and revisit me until I returned to the city, fairly well restored in nerves if not in health

But could one ever forget the inal appeal, the actual distress written in his face, the unlienerosity of his mood and deed as well as his unmerited self-denunciation? One pictures such tenderness and concern as existing between parents and children, but rarely between brothers Here he was evincing the sa, as soft as love itself, and he a man of years and some affairs and I an irritable, distrait and peevish soul

Take note, ye men of satire and spleen All men are not selfish or hard

The final phase of course related to his untimely end He was not quite fifty-five when he died, and with a slightly ht have lasted to seventy It was due really to the failure of his firm (internal dissensions and rivalries, in no way due to him, however, as I have been told) and what he foolishly deelory His was one of those si, non-hardy dispositions, warm and colorful but intensely sensitive, easily and even fatally chilled by the icy blasts of huht You have no doubt seen sos, birds, of an especially affectionate nature, which when translated to a strange or unfriendly climate soon droop and die They have no spiritual resources ith to contemplate what they do not understand or know

Now his friends would leave hiht world of which he had been a part would know him no more It was pathetic, really He emanated a kind of fear Depression and even despair see about him like a cloak He could not shake it off And yet, literally, in his case there was nothing to fear, if he had only known

And yet two years before he did die, I kneould Fantastic as it ht world of which he deeure was all but unendurable He had no ready reet his old-ti hi after his affairs, he talked of going into business for himself as a publisher, but I realized that he could not

He had neither the ability nor the talent for that, nor the heart He was not a businessbut that He tried in this new situation to write songs, but he could not They were too er, a strong confidant of some kind, some one ould have taken his affairs in hand and shown him what to do As it was he had no one His friends, like winter-frightened birds, had already departed

Personally, I was in no position to do anything at the tiing from difficulties which had held me for a number of years

About a year or so after he failed my sister E---- announced that Paul had been there and that he was co involved with all sorts of examinations of one kind and another, but neither did he have to Her ave him the fullness of her home A few months later he was ostensibly connected with another publishi+ng house, but by then he was feeling so poorly physically and was finding consolation probably in so and the caresses of those feminine friends who have, alas, only caresses to offer A little later I met a doctor who said, ”Paul cannot live He has pernicious anae down inside and doesn't know it

He can't last long He's too depressed” I kneas so and what the res and flattery of that little world of which he had been a part but which noas no reetings and companionshi+p earlier in his life, scarcely one, so far as I could make out, found higed-out actors sought him and borrowed a little of the little that he had; a few others ca the that they had done hiiously away He found, as he often told n”), n,” was pursued apparently by the inimical number thirteen--and all these little straws depressed hih to be about, he took to his bed and re hile in bed but hen up For a little while he would go ”don” to see this, that and the other person, but would soon return One day on co on his bed, accidentally put there by one of the children, and according to my sister, as present at the tiht of it To hi before!!!

Then, not incuriously, seeing the affectional tie that had always held us, he wanted to see me every day He had a desire to talk to me about his early life, the romance of it-- about him! (Best of brothers, here it is, a thin little flower to lay at your feet!) To please hih I knew most of it On these occasions he was always his old self, full of ridiculous stories, quips and slight _mots_, all in his old and best vein He would soon be hi in late November, before I had time to call upon him (I lived about a mile away), a hurry-call came from E---- He had suddenly died at five in the afternoon; a blood-vessel had burst in the head When I arrived he was already cold in death, his soft hands folded over his chest, his face turned to one side on the pillow, that indescribable sweetness of expression about the eyes and mouth--the empty shell of the beetle There were tears, a band of reporters from the papers, the next day obituary news articles, and after that a host of friends and flowers, flowers, flowers It is ae ates ajar!

Being ostensibly a Catholic, a Catholic sister-in-law and other relatives insistently arranged for a soleh requiem mass at the church of one of his favorite rectors All Broadas there,read froe procession to a distant Catholic graveyard so at the grave It was so cold and dreary there, horrible Later on he was reo

But still I think of him as not there or anywhere in the realm of space, but on Broadway between Twenty-ninth and Forty-second Streets, the spring and surills and bars of the hotels open, the rout of actors and actresses a to and fro, his own delicious presence dressed in his best, his ”funny” stories, his songs being ground out by the hand organs, his friends extending their hands, clapping hi over the latest idle yarn

Ah, Broadway! Broadway! And you, ood brother! Here is the story that you wanted me to write, this little testimony to your memory, a pale, pale symbol of all I think and feel Where are the thousand yarns I have laughed over, the ?

Peace, peace So shall it soon be with all of us It was a drearieve over or hark back to dreams?

_The County Doctor_

Hoell I reure, the head like Plato's or that of Diogenes, the , all too kindly, into the faces of dishonest ray whiskers, a long gray overcoat (soiled and patched toward the last) in winter, a soft black hat that hung darkeningly over his eyes But what a doctor! And how si-storey were so many of his remedies!

”My son, your father is very sick Now, I'll tell you what you can do forthe Cheevertown road about a mile or two and ask any far handful of peach sprigs--about so ive thes theht, and break them up and steep them in hot water until you have an amber-colored tea Give Mr ---- about three or four tea-spoonfuls of that every three or four hours, and I hope we'll find he'll do better This kidney case is severe, I know, but he'll coht”

And he did My father had been very ill with gall stones, so weak at last that we thought he was sure to die The house was so so an atmosphere of depression and fear, with pity for the sufferer, and groans of distress on his part And then there were the solemn visits of the doctor, made pleasant by his wise, kindly huly mild prescription, which resulted, in this case, in a cure He was seely so rehtful