DOI article:
Egerton, George: A lost masterpiece: a city mood, Aug. '93
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.20196#0199
By George Egerton 193
But what cared I ? Not a jot! I could afford to say
pityingly : " Go thy way, little city maid, get thee to thy
typing."
And all the while that these outward insignificant things occu-
pied me, I knew that a precious little pearl of a thought was
evolving slowly out of the inner chaos.
It was such an unique little gern, with the lustre of a tear, and
the light of moonlight and streamlight and love smiles reflected in
its pure sheen—and, best of all, it was all my own—a priceless
possession, not to be bartered for the Jagersfontein diamond—a
city childling with the prepotency of the country working in it—
and I revelled in its fresh charm and dainty strength ; it seemed
original, it was so frankly natural.
And as I dodged through the great Waggons laden with wares
from outer continents, I listened and watched it forming inside,
until my soul became filled with the light of its brightness ; and a
wild elation possessed me at the thought of this darling brain-child,
this offspring of my fancy, this rare little creation, perhaps embryo
of genius that was my very own.
I smiled benevolently at the passers-by, with their harassed
business faces, and shiny black bags bulging with the weight of
common every-day documents, as I thought of the treat I would
give them later on ; the delicate feast I held in störe for them,
when I would transfer this dainty elusive birthling of my brain to
paper for their benefit.
It would make them dream of moonlit lanes and sweethearting ;
reveal to them the golden threads in the sober city woof; creep
in close and whisper good cheer, and smooth out tired creases
in heart and brain ; a draught from the fountain of Jouvence
could work no greater miracle than the tale I had to unfold.
Aye, they might pass me by now, not even give me the inside
of
But what cared I ? Not a jot! I could afford to say
pityingly : " Go thy way, little city maid, get thee to thy
typing."
And all the while that these outward insignificant things occu-
pied me, I knew that a precious little pearl of a thought was
evolving slowly out of the inner chaos.
It was such an unique little gern, with the lustre of a tear, and
the light of moonlight and streamlight and love smiles reflected in
its pure sheen—and, best of all, it was all my own—a priceless
possession, not to be bartered for the Jagersfontein diamond—a
city childling with the prepotency of the country working in it—
and I revelled in its fresh charm and dainty strength ; it seemed
original, it was so frankly natural.
And as I dodged through the great Waggons laden with wares
from outer continents, I listened and watched it forming inside,
until my soul became filled with the light of its brightness ; and a
wild elation possessed me at the thought of this darling brain-child,
this offspring of my fancy, this rare little creation, perhaps embryo
of genius that was my very own.
I smiled benevolently at the passers-by, with their harassed
business faces, and shiny black bags bulging with the weight of
common every-day documents, as I thought of the treat I would
give them later on ; the delicate feast I held in störe for them,
when I would transfer this dainty elusive birthling of my brain to
paper for their benefit.
It would make them dream of moonlit lanes and sweethearting ;
reveal to them the golden threads in the sober city woof; creep
in close and whisper good cheer, and smooth out tired creases
in heart and brain ; a draught from the fountain of Jouvence
could work no greater miracle than the tale I had to unfold.
Aye, they might pass me by now, not even give me the inside
of