The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, September 27, 1903, Page 1

ER® you have the author of “Chimmie Fadden” at his best. “Lees and Leaven,” his latest work, E. W. Townsend ds a new note in American liter- e—the right of a young girl to a free choice of a husband. jon is the more not In Howard d go so with convic g that he's more then that ts what I'd call one treacherous fel that you said me prom s why I both the men 1 she declared severely brothers most so. If hal d—-that unguarded read some pa is, it escaped fron moment—that he h As I belleved I w nly m who did was s into sayl suppose - poetry reading and indus: ney wentvto- gether. Then he deman tion; and seeing no w le except to lay the blame on .y why, of course, I did so. It seems to me that my course was h able‘and ma “It was very manly,” sald Grace, with withering emphasis on the last word Then #he laughed and sald: “Really, Mr. 1 er's affal other ma know nice or yachts with the Yo papers & lot of talk as th ever h I stick to busi- ntrusted with matters of such as our family's deal. This, ladies to White River s on concluded Howard arose af Gentlemen of the jury, have you agreed upon the verdict?” “We have,” solemnly answered G i the defendant is not gullty Worthington rose. I thank the jury. s brother tells me that the plays the spinet. May I have .. went to the piano and played. e time they were all singing, husiasm and ingenious device, operatic selections requiring anywhere from two to fifty voices. Grace at times supplying the entire female chorus, end the two men all the male voices of & grand opera. In the next few months Mr. Worth- ington’s affairs took him to White River several times. On each visit he carried with him the score and book of a new opera to add to the repertoire of the “Abridged Oper: Company,” as he call- ed the trio which sang around Grace Paxton’s piano. Late in the spring fol- lowing the events related in earlier Call, but the Sunday Call fs the very first newspaper to present the tal- ented writer’s latest novel in this form. In point of fact you cannot get “Lees and Leaven” in any other form whatever for less than twenty times the cost of the Sunday Call. That is a simple little fact worth pondering if you like the best that is being written in America to-day. chapters of this narrative, Mr. Worth- arned, with considerable inter- his musical companions were to migrate to New York. ed two offers from New a triendly let- editor of the New York Gu offered him a salary of sixty dollars a week, to “do for us the ki and amount of work you are now doing for the Advocate.' Howard liked the tone of the letter, and was considering an immediate fa- vorable reply, when he recelved this t 'Come on at once. One hun- week. Or more at space rate you t, i want. Managin, editor, Morn! Howard's first encounter he was at a nalism, and former w hu of one an anodyne to the electrical lever ward wired that he would send his ision the next da But w the Chronicle—yet! I message you was delive coming. you know wire us skit ? When were your published? are Do t send us wire th righted? Don't wri Constder you engaged to dir with me Sunday If there is a White River er posed combine us a coupl 1 words. Car- ‘son, Managing - “Howard rushed from the ce leav- ing Instructions that no telegrams were to be delivered to-his home, and went there to consult with Grace. His sister read the telegraphic out- bursts with eyes dilated. *“Oh, Howard!" she exclaimed, “you'll ‘be famous. One hundred -and fifty ‘dollar: a week! Think of it! And you can buy all the books you want; and lots and" lots of nice loth and hear all the good music, *And how about some one else he asked, his slowly aroused enthusiasm beginning to show. “Who will go to the School of Design? not to speak of any- one else buying nice clothes? “The School of Grace re- Design peated In an ecstacy. *“ lorence Hart- ley writes me that lots of women are going in for interfor decoration. I know that I can do good work in .12 I can take the course. It's a eam come true, Howard.” How about this Guardian offer?” How- gested. “Pooh!"” cried Grace. “Only 360 a week! A hundred and fifty from the great Chro: £ “You can reform ’‘em, confidently. Grace, who had never been further from home than a doctor’s gig ride, was in a storm of joyful excitement. Most she rejoiced in the promised ogportunity to better pursue her studies in the art of ap- plied design. She had a friend, Miss Flor- ence Hartley, in the New York School of Design, and since Miss Hartley’'s visit to relatives In White River, when Grace had met her, they had been enthusiastic cor- respondents on the subject of thelr com~ mon studies gnd ambitions, 8o, buoyant and confident, she went with her brother to the new, bustling sta- tion where they were to take the evening train to New York. Something unusual appeared to have drawn a gay and ani- ated crowd. Howard soon learned. 'Why, Grace,” he said, “the Buntons are going to New York, too.”” “How jolly!” cried Grace. “Won't it be nice to travel with old friends! ’ A reporter told Howard that the presi- dent of the road had given Mr. Bunton his private car for the trip. “They say the Buntons make New, York thelr home,” the news gatherer.sald, “and that’s why there are so many swells from the Heights here—seeing ‘em off.” 4 Mr. Worthington chanced tolbe return- then,” she said , Grace should enter ing to New York by the wame train and joined Howard and Grace where, excited and they stood near the platform of their sleeping car. “Here comes Dais and advanced to m Daisy saw the hand he but ignored it, on to her car. bowed coldl s > had been piqued by the ntion Worthington had pald to Grace; and, be: that cause for her coldness, a sudden caprice made or think of Grace River connection who might, if not dis- raged, dim the glory of the Buntons New York career. Both men with Grace saw, i not understand; and when Grace ed around, her eyes filled with t humiliation, Worthington stepped side with hand outstretched, as shield her from some bodily Howard put his arm around her, say- ing, “Come, Grace, we'll go into the car; you are tired with excitement.” An hour after the train started a vant came to Worthington with an to her if to harm. in- vitation from Bunton to dine in the pri- vate car. “Say to Mr. Bunton that I have guests for dinner,” Worthington replied. ‘You will be my guests in the dining ¢ar?” he added to Grace and Howard. VIII-THE FIRST WARNING. “It's been very nice, our coming on here together and when you are settled in your new home, Miss Paxton, your brother must let me know and my mother will call on you.” Jack Worthington said this as the party from White River stood at the exit of the Grand Central station. Grace was extending her hand to take his when she was nearly swept from her feet by the impetuous rush of a laugh- ing young woman who took her in her arms and kissed her and who was kiss- ed heartily In return. “We Were ex- pected, you see,” Howard said to Worth- ington, who’laughingly replied, “Pleas- antly so, I see,” shook hands with How- ard, and went to a walting carriage, to which a liveried servant had already taken his hand' luggage. It had been agreed that Grace should make her home, for a time at least, with Florence Hartley, the young woman who had greeted her, and that Howard was to take apartments in nearby bachelors’ lodgings. ‘‘Because,” as Miss Hartley ex- plained, “‘we 't have our quiet old malds’ retreat dalized by the late-at- night hours of a morning newspaper man.” As Miss Hartley d not consent that e School of Design untHl she had had atJeast'a week of the glories of New. York’s shops, Howard went on the “evening of their arrival to introduce himself at the editorial rooms of the Morning Chronicle. As he left the elevated station at Park place and turned toward New: recognizing a score of monumental landmarks made fa- miliar by picture and story, his usual s renity was deeply moved. He was mod- est, but he had confidence in his work and ,a strong determination to give the best of that work to this new hazard. He rejoiced at the broadened field opened to him, and resolved to repay the Chronicle for giving him that opportunity by giving in return more and beiter than they 1. The inspiration of the great already upon him, and he felt a an earnestness, he had never before anteroom messenger who took his returned briskly, saying. < see you at once, sir. This please.”” Howard followed the boy and was almost dazed upon entering the first of several large rooms he traversed by the nc signs of feverish excitement. many men were writing, a dozen or more on nolsy typewriters; others were rush- ing about shouting orders; boys scurried from desk to desk gathering sheets of copy: in a room seen—and heard— through an open door, rows of telegraph operators sat bafore clicking recelvers, transmitting messages to clicking type- writers; at a bench a boy was working a cluster of pneumatic tubes, sending pre- pared copy to some unseen region, and re- celving proofs, as if the machine he han- dled turned the copy into proof through its grasping explosions: at certain desks sat men of superior office, recelving ver- bal reports from other men to whom they gave excited instructions, and calling hoarsely to other desk men questions or commands; over all the floors thete was a litter of paper ankle deep; and all the air was blue with tobacco smoke and harsh with a jangle of norses. Above all other noises, above the volces of half a dozen men at as many desks shouting into telephones as if they expected to send. their natural voices to the other ends. of the lines, above the scufing of the messengers—of whom there seemed to be hundreds—above the alicking of tele- graph and writing instruments, was one dominant sound of commands to “Hurry!” “Rush!” “Rush!” “Be lively!" Wondering how any kind of mental work could be done in such a confusion, Howard was guided into a large, hand- somely turnished room, where, as he en- tered, a man rose from a table about which four or five others stood, advanced to him, and sald with the greatest cor- dlality, “Mr. Paxton, I'm delighted to see you. I am Mr. Carson, and as we've been having a councll, here’s a chance at once to introduce you to some heads of depart- ments.” The men Howard was introduced to were curlously alike in type—keen-eyed, _sharp visaged, nervous looking. They were all coatless, and some had their shirc sleeves rolled up and collars off, as if the industry of getting out a dally morning newspaper were a physical, rather than a mental undertaking. Their cordiality was as great as Mr. Carson's, indeed seemed to be imitative of his. The members of the council soon dispersed, each receiv- ing what to Howard was a bewlidering multiplicity of instrdctions and cautions, having to do with the necessity of some one in some part of the world being told to “hustle.” When the last of them was on his way to prod some one to hustle Mr. Carson swept a confusion of proof slips, photo- graphs, exchanges, copy and reference books from off the chair least incum- bered, and motioned Howard to be seated, then seated himself on a cleared corner of a table. “Now, Mr. Paxton,” the man- aging editor said, “you'll have nothing to do with this end of the shop. We'll nd motion and, a hundred finq you a quiet desk, up a flight or down one room\ 5 flight, where you'll be by yourself, or at the worst, with some speclal writer, like yourself.” “Thank you,” Howard replied, smiling. “I don’t think I could do very much work out there,” motioning to the rooms he had passed through. “Oh, that's the boller shop! The kind of work we do out there would come to a standstill if we kept things quiet. The theory is that nothing here must be al- lowed to fall into a rut, and if men are allowed to work under normal conditions their work becomes normal. We want ab- normal work; we want men who are put- ting the news, the local matter, the fea- tures, the suburban stories into shape, to be under a pressure of excitement; to be a bit rattled, a little Mnsane, in truth; for then they are likely to be seized with novel—startling—fancies as to the manner and form their work should take.” Howard stared at the speaker with amazement he took no pains to conceal. WhHat he was saying sounded like bur- lesque he had read of “Live Journalism.” But Mr. Carson was evidently serious. As he spoke, in a straightforward, mat- ter of fact manner, ue frequently intery rupted himself. to hastily open and glance at a telegram, a proof, an illustration, the extravagant form of “make-up” of some page story, to scribble memoranda on some of these, or more frequently to dictate a remark or order to his stenog- rapher, sitting iff a corner of the room, “Some men can't stand it: they break down in health or go wholly insane. A little insanity isn’t a tad thing. We've had lots of stunning features suggested by men we were nursing along to keep ‘em from going wholly mad. But we don’t subject our special and editorial writers to ‘that strain.” “I am glad to hear that,” gasped How- ard. - ) & Gracs cen T LAXTON. *No, we want their sort of work to be deadly commonplace. That style carries an air of profound wisdom to our class of readers. Of course,” he added, smil- ing at Howard's grimace over this notion of what was possibly expected of him, “we don't include your work in any of the classes I've mentioned. You are to start a new department. We like the stuff you mailed to us and will feature it big for the Sunday Magazine. By the way, would you like to look over the proofs of your matter?” Howard said that he would, and a mes. senger was sent for “a proof of the Pax Howard wondered at the word as he had sent not more than a column and a half of copy. But his amazement grew when the proof was brought to him. It was a page, indeed, with a head that ran quite across it, and included a dozen or more illustrations and a big, bold picture of himself. He read the matter, his cheeks growing red- der as he saw each of his paragraphs pictured with gross misshapen cari tures. At one of these he paused i nantly. He. had tten some dainty and tender, suggested by his sis- ter's m over her future as a de- Playing upon the word, he had cied a young, sweet-minded woman going to the big city, her imagination filled with “designs,” but all that came of them, try as she would, was that she ever “designed” the same old home—an honest lover’s heart—and was its sole happy oc- cupant! The illustration for this was a scantily dressed woman on a stage ogling a stage box filled with men reciprocating her glances. “I should like,” Howard said to Mr. Carson, “to make a couple of sugges. tions. “As many as you like.” Chis picture and—" nd you're so mode laughed Mr. Carson, good-natured “As good-looking a chap as you mustn’t be afraid of seeing his own picture. Wait until you see the ig posters. They're being put up around town to-night.” asked Howard, embarrassed. ‘The famous White River Advocate man,” with a fac-simile of your autograph a foot high. Great!” Howard groaned and winced so woeful- ly that the mgpaging editor laughed. “Well,” .said Howard, “I'll not protest about the pictures of me, because I'm g ing to insist that this picture is not used, and he pointed to the {llustration of the verses entitled “Designs.” “Why, I thought that was good; sou- brettish, rather.” “Too much so. The reason I insist, Mr. Carson (the editor smiled curiously at his repetition of the word insist), is that the verses were suggested to me by an enthusfasm of my sister's.” “My dear bay, that settles it, of course. Tl have that killed and a pretty face— dreamy sort of thing, eh?—made for it,” Mr. Carson exclaimed heartily. ‘“Now, let's go and see the chief.” ‘The proprietor of the paper, Mr. Faulk- ner, called “Chief” by some of the staff, “Boss” by others, was hearty and bluff in his greeting; made many poiite in- quiries about Howard's health, his fam- ily, the trip from White River, his living plans, and was winning and graclous. He, too, was frequently interrupted by heads of departments—but none entered without first sending in his card. They all seemed to try to copy Mr. Faulkner's bluft manner, and it was easy to see that this affectation was to cover a genuine feeling of uncertainty or actual fright. Each stared at Howard suspiciously at first, but when introduced by the chief each affected the chief's degree of cor- diality. “Now I want to give you just of me—it's so—so—big one word of wwrmmg, Paxton,” the sbief #ald. “Don’t let Carson here cut up agy tricks with you Carson prides himself on his tricks. There's no doubt that Car- son is the trickiest rascal on Park Row." The chief smiled at his picture of the managing editor, and all the heads of departments laughed heartily. Carson himself smiled as !f, though the joke was on him, it was | k erthaless. “Now you are to go right ahead, doing your own work in your own way. and according to your contract; and don’t let Carson or any one else Interfers. If you have any trouble, or any one bothers you, come straight to me and I'll set things right—if I have any influence on this pa- per.” Again Mr. Faulkner smiled and the others laughed. “Dine witk morrow,” chief added bl Howard thanked him and explained that d the next evening to his right,” the chief said soon.” foward returned to his office n & man was sitting there, ver a bundle of forelgn Turnbull!™ ex- o I wanted ® man rose and edged gn Introduct! should not have br this market, Mr. Pax gravely acknowl- to Howard. “You your wares to ' he sald, smil- o dainty. I've The verses ally good— there. For at hideous arson. “But, Paxton that He'll strike ng Carson, continued comer’s work. Hp was tall y pale skin, deep, large calm eyes, rather thin lips that aid not look ungenerous, however, and a chin at was set and that the sculptor gave to Milo. moided like the Venus of the editor, d T was e pilot him to-night He was Mr. Pax- “We must not let him get lost or be lonely on his first night In town. Youw'll be In time to ct at one or two theaters. rmt you by the time you are at su; C: ald. s remark, 1 money." asked, taking er, “Twenty- e hundred,” responded Turnbull. Howard arson scowled, but he wrote an order for the amount Turnbull named ai it to him. The two young men went Into several theaters, . interest in Howard's marvelous show of costume: interest whatever in those things. was politely patient in giving Howard in- formation about all they saw and heard, yet all the time had a manner of con- trolling some strong n impulse. “Pm boring you to death,” Howard sa noticing this manner in his companion. “] don’t suppose you New Yorkers can have any notion of the fairyland all this is to a stranger—especially to a villager who, for the fi n his life, is see- ing some of the wonders that he's read and dreamed of so much. I'm rather a slow-blooded chap, I've always thought: but I guess you'd be amazed if you could know how near I am at this minute to ing a war dance, with appropriate as an expression of my state of d. “You explain your state of mind to me,” his companion sald, smil- “for I'm not a New Yorker, and not needn’t years ago had my first night In e ork, but, being of another tem- perament. I didn’t stop at the thought of a devil's dance to express my feelings; L danced.” “You don’t look it,” Howard laughed. That's what surprised the fellow who had me in charge tr as T have you now. But before ght end- ed he had to exert the I nce of the paper to convince a captain of police that my exuberance of spirit didn’t amount ta disorderly conduct. I'm glad you can think about a dance—without dancing. Let’s go to supper.” The theaters were closed and most of their patrons had been swept away by the receding tde which set strongly in all directions away from that neighbor- hood, yet not so strongly but that it left some froth, some dregs of humanity. Now another tide set toward the dis- trict; a smaller current which settled, for the moment In restless pools, one of which was a quiet little restaurant of some pretensions to exclusiveness. It was for the “late men,” hard workers whose supper there at one, two, or three o’'clock in the morning correspond- ed to the early evening dinners of mem who work—or play—by daylight. It was there Turnbull took his charge for sup- per. They sat at a table a little with- drawn from the others by a slight ir~ regularity in the room, but which commanded a view of the other tables. Turnbull identified many of those who entered as men holding Important posi- tions on morning papers, or players, or musicians, of prominence In their pro- fessions. The place had a quiet, club- like atmosphere, and his host told How- ard that the men he saw were to be found there at their accustamed —seats, and regular hours, night T night. Howard, with his “villagér” appetite sharpened by excitement, ordered a hearty meal; but Turnbull ordered only one simple dish which he did not touch when it was served. “Oh, pardon me for not asking you before! Do you drink?’ Turnbull said after a silence, during which his clench- ed hands had been held by his side with an effort, as if he were trying to con- trol some mastering passion. Howard had been devoting boyish at- tention to his supper, and had net e