THE DARK ROOM 



wandered back to his treasures in the dark room in Phila- 

 delphia. 



He returned at last with rapid feet. He longed to be 

 among his art treasures again, to retouch them out of wider 

 experience, and to add to their number. 



He came back to his friend's home where he had left 

 the darkened room, loaded with specimens. 



"Are the pictures safe?" was almost his first inquiry. 



" Safe, safe ! You may be sure they are. Not even 

 the cat has entered the room. Go up to the chamber 

 and see." 



He ascended the stairs, accompanied by his friend, un- 

 locked the door, lifted the Venetian blind, and glanced 

 around. 



He trembled, and uttered a cry of horror. 



"Eats! What have they done? Oh, the light of my 

 life has gone out. Look, look, my precious plates! The 

 rats have made heaps of them. Years of toil would not 

 replace them. My heart sinks within me. God give me 

 health, I will recover them. I will make them better than 

 before!" 



He gathered up the remains of his pictures, feeling 

 like Newton when the little dog Diamond destroyed his 

 astronomical calculations. He wandered about as one 

 dazed. 



Everybody was sorry at heart for him. He felt keenly 

 all this sympathy, and said: 



