Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1885-06-04
A DEAD NOVELIST.
Some Reflections the Death of the
Author OF Ozark Days"
New YORK, May 2S.

Sohe hehecIohs on the Death of the
Author OF Ozark Days"
[Original.l
The death Of Hugh Conway, the novelist,
recently, at Monaco, is sharp reminder of the
mutabihty of all earthly plans and prospects.
1t recalls the legend of the wish angel who
hovers continually about mortals, hearing
them express their most cherished desires.
He grants their wish sooner or later, but
under conditions which strip it of all Joy.
He humbles human beings by giving them
what they long for, and'thereby proving the
Iluslveness of all dreams of happiness
Very little is known of Hugh Conway,
whose name in private life was Frederick
John Fargus. He lived, aspired, strove. and
In some measure achieved, then died lust as
life seemed to open before him. That much
Is known. The ellipsis in the short chapter
can be readily filed by the imagination of
any one who knows how steep and rugged is
the pathway that leads even to the boundaries
of success.
He was only thirty-seven years old. had
hed bis share of struggle, self-denial, priva-
ton and bafhed hope. of course, since none
who strive are strangers to these dragons
that crouch by the road to eminence. Two
years ago Mr.. FargUs, who was an auctioneer
IN Bristol, wrote "Called Back, story now
known to two or three hundred thousand
readers here and abroad. 1t was published
IN Arrowsmith's Annual, and lay unnoticed
IN the London book stalls for weeks, and per-
maps months. One day Henry Labouchere,
going on a journey, picked it up to
oeguIle the tediousness of travel. He read
It, was pleased with it, and afterward spoke
OF it in Truth as a very clever story. Then
all London wanted to read it, and did read
it. The Annual was soon exhausted. and
Called Back" was brought out in new form.
A hundred thousand copies were soon sold.
1t was republished in this country, and had
an enormous sale. 1t wss dramatized and
had long run in London and also n New
York
As a work of art "Called Back" had its
defects, but it also had what offset the de-
fects-an indefnable cnarm 1t had force
and feeling, the germ aLd'life of all art.
One felt that its author had strong per-
sonality. 1t depicted no new phase Of life,
revealed no hidden things. Itsimpiy grouped
some old, old figures Of fiction in more
striking way. There was favor of psyche
lJgic mystery about it, and a surprise at the
end of it. The characters which figured in
it, and whose fate had such potent charm
for so many thousands of readers were: A
blind man who RECEIVERS his sight by the
usual surgical opera tion, beautiful mad
woman, two very daring and successful
villains, with a faithful nurse and one or
two other ciphers in the shape of obscure
servitors. Yet the adventures and eH tangle-
ments of these personages commanded the
public's warmest attention.
A few months later Ozark DAYS. appeared.
This had still greater success than its preda-
ItS berOina Wa alSo hao, F,,1
woman, and it had captivating surprise In
the last chapter. 1t was steady, unmitigated
tragedy from the first to the last word It
was serious to the point of depression, never
deviating into the slightest approach TO the
comic or fippant. 1t was an intense stony,
dramatically told in the first person. 1t had
not line of philosophy. Indeed, there was
not word in it unnecessary to the simple
telling of powerful tale. Its author had
acted upon the old idea that story should
simply be a story-nOthing more, nothing
less He demonstrated that it needed moth
ing but power and feeling to make it take
hold on its readers.
These two books brought gold and honor
to their author, and opened the way for f1-
ture achievements in the field he had long
hungered to enter. Then; Just as he had
fairly begun to breathe the air of his dreams,
he died. Close attention TO his work left
him exhausted Seeking recreation and rest,
he went to Rome, and there probably con-
tracted the malaria which eliminated in
typhoid fever at Monaco, and ended his hfe.
I'VE, who see only that part of life which
begins and ends here, look upon sudden
looping off like this with sadness 1t strikes
US with mournful perplexity. Yet, it has
been said, that some time we shall know that
every life is complete The symmetry and
perfection OF human endeavOr are hidden
from our finite eyes, but they may be there.
1t cannot be thas all human endeavor is
empty and unrewarded- Even what looksSo
to US may elsewhere have its full fruition, its
long day of Joy. The soul. that mysterious
star of our life, which 'cometh from afar,"
turns its back upon the prizes Of the world
that it may win greater ones in better coun-
tries.
Death, the ancient mystery. hides many q
perfected dream beneath a coffin lid. In
deed, we may one day learn that he is kind
est to those whose eyes he closes while lie is
still bright to them. They who pass out OF
the contest before they are wounded are
doubtless the most blessed. Yet we are 50
untaught in wisdom that we beStow upon
them pity and lamentations instead of felici-
tations. We speak of the sadness of life
ended when its desires were beginning to be
realized. We forget that all honOrs are
short lived, that fame Is breath which an
adverse wind may diSSipate; that fair pros
pects NAV end in fierce storms; that JOY may
come with the morning and sorrow intrude
at night; that hope, health, happiness all
the sweet-voiced angels who walk with US
here from time to time, have wings and fly
away fitfully, whispering never word OF
their return.
Remembering how difficult it is to live, we
should lay flower upon the grave of Hugh
Conway with a smile. The pen dropped
from his hand when it had but begun to
show its power; yet, who shall dare to say
he has lost by the changel Man IS, indeed,
Of few days upon the earth, and those days
are filled with what seem vain imaginingx
futile strivingS:
"Here sits he, shaping wings to fly,
His heart forebodeS mystery;
He names the name eternity"
GERTRUDE GARRISON.
Nr,t, Vopu Nav oS