Life — April 15, 1897 — page 18: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

*> LIFE: THE OWNER AND THE INTELLECT. 7 OU are mean,” she said, as she leaned back and gazed reflect- ively into the tree-tops. ‘‘You're as mean as you can be.” “Certainly,” replied the Intellect, in a matter-of-fact voice, such as all Intellects use towards their owners, ‘* That is what you call it, but you don’t mean it, you know.” The Intellect smiled at the girl, a calm, placid that was mad- dening had she seen it. smile, But her eyes were fastened on the feathery pine outlined against the blue of the sky. A tiny frown marred the smoothness of her fore- s=> head, and her hand beat impa- *~" tiently the carpet of pine needles beneath her, sometimes,” ly. The Intellect gravely she “T hate you claimed, pett ** Of cours! bowed appro: “T hate you alway “You follow me about and thwart me; ex- vehemently, =. we eat you won't let me do as I want to, and when I think I've given you the slip and am nicely rid of you, and am enjoying myself, there you are with your warning finger, and your calm judgment, and then —then I want to kill you!” The Intellect nodded reflectively. “*T will, some day,” with a flash of blue eyes. ‘‘ What are you good for, anyway, I'd like to know? Oh, yes, as the Intellect was about to speak. ‘‘ You ‘brilliant,’ and all as I know!" make me ‘unusual,’ ‘remarkable,’ that, and I hate it. Yes, I do!” an inquiring glance came from the Intellect. ‘‘I don’t want to be ‘un- usual;’ I don’t want to be a person with an Intellect. I'd rather be just silly, and commonplace, and look pretty, and be like other girls and have people like me, and——" “They do now,” interrupted the Intellect, consol- ingly. “They like you, you mean,” she retorted, ‘‘ That's just it. They like you and they don’t care a fig for me. While they're talking with you and enjoying the ‘depths of an unusual mind,’ I just have to sit and smile and look as if I liked it all, when I'm nearly bored to death, And they don’t know whether I'm there or not, so long as you are. Some day I'll just go and leave you, then how'll you like it? You can't get along without me, you know,” triumphantly. ‘But Lam you,” retorted the Intellect, stirred at last. ‘We are inseparable. I am what makes you, and the people who admire me are admiring you. I am you, and you can’t get away from it.” THE LION BEFOOLED.