A ROMANCE OF THE CAMERA.

Press, Volume LV, Issue 10132, 3 September 1898, Page 3

A ROMANCE OF THE CAMERA.

Mcxset's Mao_rrsr_ An old-fashioned idea still in vogue with certain people is that Satan finds employment for all idle hands; on close investition, however, Cupid would be found "to be an even more übiquitous taskmaster than his satanic majesty. Occasionally the two form a close partnership, and then the result is tragic, but as a rule the little god of love works on ordinary, commonplace lines. His tasks are easy, too, as, for instance, in this case, when his employees simply *had topress the button and he did the rest. The west bound express on !rhe Canadian Pacific was side tracked at Banff waiting for the east bound train. Lattimer Tracy, a kodak enthusiast_in the first stages of* the disease, had photographed every- attractive bit from Montreal to Banff. His rolls of film would have made a fairly complete panorama of this most picturesque of all transcontinental lines, with occasional lapses, of course, when night had interfered witik his labours. From the back platform, from the steps of bis own car, and from the observation smoker, he had "shot" the flying landscape. From early dawn until the last faint light of the lingering northern twilight had faded away he had laboured. At Banff he was Standing on the last platform of the train, and had jotted down his pnotographic memoranda of snow crowned Inglismaldie, of Peechee's dominating cone, with a distant glimpse of the beautiful hotel nestling on the mountain side. He was feeling well pleased with ins work, for these last views were superb, and if they could be successfully developed would doubtless prove a source of pride to him. A shrill whistle, an oncoming roar and tho express thundered past on the main track. As it slowed up at the station Tracy's train moved on but not before he had indelibly fixed on the film of his kodak a glimpse of the back platform of the passing train. He raised his head and saw, vaguely, a girl bending over a kodak focussed apparently, on kirn, but before she looked up his car bad rounded a curve and she was lost to view. Tracy returned to New York after several weeks, and one of his first acts was to

develop his "views." With the luck of Ike ordinary amateur, a few of them were good, but most of tbem were bad. Hoary old Sir Donald had diminished his crest into the eye of the kodak to such an extent that he was hardly distinguishable from the low-lying hills that border Lake Superior, while glaciers, lakes, and rivers, redwoods and farm lands, were hopelessly confused. Only one view was sharp and clear. Framed by the doorway of a sleeper a young girl looked straight from the plate into Tracy's eyes. "By Jove!" he exclaimed,, "what a beauty! She must be the Banff girl." The Banff girl she was and the Banff girl she remained for days, weeks, and even montlis. Tracy printed her off and she was charming; in a t>lue print she was beautiful, and blue prints "are crucial tests of beauty; on carbon paper she was exquisite, and with each experimental printing her image penetrated deeper and deeper into Tracy's heart. At last he enlarged her; or. not quite at last, for the crowning point of his folly was to frame her in silver and install her on bis dressing-table as mistress of his heart and possessions. There she stood for several weeks returning his glances —not in kind, perhaps, but in number— and known to him only by the prosaic name of the "Banff girl." Then, one evening, she was christened, and it was in this wise: Jack Seymour ran up to Tracy's rooms to communicate some bit of personal information wandering idly about the room, he saw the photograph, picked it up, glanced at it carelessly, then put it down. "Good photograph," he said ; "amateur, of course. I didn't know you knew Edith so well. She's a jolly girl, isn't she?" "N-no—y-yes, v stammered Tracy. Edith! and here was a man who knew hex! But what a fool he would look to ask the name of a girl whose photograph was enshrined in the privacy of -his dressing table! In a moment more Seymour was gone. Tracy felt a mad impulse to rush after him and ask who, what, and where "Edith" was, but pride held him back and the next day Seymour sailed for Egypt. By this time Edith's photograph presentment filled Lattimer Tracy's life, and the entire world was merely a dense veil hiding her from him. He went to every dance and dinner, he even haunted teas, hoping that he might find her. Once he was invited to a dinner to meet "My cousin, Miss Edith Bainbridge, of Victoria." His heart beat with an overwhelming joy as he read the words. At last she would be his! He entirely ignored all intermediate steps of acquaintance, intimacy, proposal, and acceptance. He gazed at his photograph with rapt adoration. "Mine, mine, mine!" he cried, and the sweet eyes smiled back at him from under the wind-swept hair.

When he stood before his hostess that night his face was white and his voice hoarse with emotion. "Edith, Miss Bainbridge, Mr Tracy." The words were spoken and Tracy turned to meet her. Alas! this Edith was not his Edith, but only an elderly Scotch spinster. Tracy never knew how he lived through that evening, but when he returned to his room and his l-.ditk, he was more hopelessly j her slave than ever. "I will find you some time,'' he cried passionately, "in spite of j the world and fate!" The world and fate, j be it understood, were represented by his hostess and her innocent cousin. j The winter drew to a close, and Tracy j was growing hopeless. Should he start out; in quest of her he asked himself' But ■ what a hopeless quest! Should he follow Seymour and ask. as incidentally as possible his Edith's name? But to brand himself an idiot in Seymour's eyes was distasteful in the extreme. ; It was Saturday, and Tracy was on his way to an afternoon reception. No hope of finding Edith led him thither, but one of bis friends bad asked him to help ber to j entertain her guests. He waited for a moment in the ante-chamber, realising from the voices that only girls were in the adjoining room. Then he heard a name that made his heart stand still. "Don't tell mc, Edith Seymour, that you have worn his picture ever since." ! "Yes, I have. You can call it silly if you like, but of all the kodaks that I took, from Yokohama to Montreal, his was the only one that came out. Of course, tkere was a fate in that. Could anyone doubt it? It's in this very locket now, and I'll j ■wear it until I meeVbim. I know I will j some time, I'm absolutely positive of that." "How romantic!" "But show it to us." "I wonder if you will ever see him?" "I'll wager you don't." "What will you say to kirn?" "No, I won't. Of course, I will," Miss Seymour answered to all these exclamations. "And I'll say " \ "Oh, how do you do, Mr Tracy? I didn't hear you come in," exclaimed the hostess. It's awfully good of you to come so early. You know everyone here, don't you? Oh, no—Miss Seymour, I want you to know Mr Tracy. She's Jack Seymour's

cousin from Montreal, you know. You've heard him speak of his cousin Edith a thousand times, haven't-you?" The words flowed on in a melodious murmur. Tracy heard none of them. Her hand was in his and—well, of course, Cupid i was on hand to complete the task he had - commenced on the side track at Banff.