Bridgeton pioneer., 1885-09-17
A DEAD NOVELIST,

The death of Hugh Conway, the nov
elist, recently, at Monaco, is a sharp
reminder of the mutability of all earth
ly plans and prospects. 1t recalls the
legend of the wish angel, who hovers
continually about mortals, hearing
them express their most cherished de-
sires. He grants their wish sooner or
later, but under conditions which strip
it of all joy. He humbles human be-
ings by giving them what they long
for, and thereby proving the Elusive
ness of all dreams of happiness.
Very little is known of Hugh Con-
way, whose name in private life was
Frederick John Fargus. He lived,
aspred, strove, and in some measures
achieved, then died just as life seemed
to open before him. That much is
known. The ellipsis in the short chap
ter can be readily filled by the imagina-
ton 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 had his share of struggle, sclf-de-
nal, privation, and bafficd 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 IN auction
Ger in Bristol, wrote Called Back"
story now known to two or three hun
dred thousand readers here and abroad.
1t was published in A1roWSmith's An-
nu0}, and lay unnoticed on the Lon
don book stalls for weeks, and perhaps
months. One day Henry Labouchere,
going on journey, picked it up to be-
guile the tediousncss of travel He
read It. was pleased with it, and after
ward spoke of it in Truth as very
clever story. Then all London wanted
to read it, and did read it. The an
nuaL was soon exhausted, and Called
Back" was brought out in a new torm
A hundred thousand copies We're soon
sold. 1t was rcpublished in this coun-
try, and had an enormous sale. 1t
was dramatizcd and had long run in
London and also in New York.
AS work of art, Called Back" had
its defects, but it also had what offset
the defects-an indefinable charm. 1t
had force and feeling, the germ and
life of all art. One felt that its author
had Il strong personality. 1t depicted
no new phase of life, revealed no hid
den things. 1t simply grouped some
old, old figures of fiction in a more
striking way. There was a flavor of
psychologist mystery about it, and Il
surprise at the end of it. The charac-
tcrs which figured in it, and whose fate
had such Il potent charm for so many
thousands of readers were: A blind
man who RECEIVERS his sight by the usu-
al surgical operation, a beautiful mad
woman, two very.Garing and success
full villains, with faithful nurse and
one or two other cipherS in the shape
OF obscure servitors. Yet the adven-
lures and cntanylcmrnts of these per-
souages commanded the public's warm
est attention.
A few months later Dark DAYS"
appeared This had still greater sue
cess than its predecessor. Its heroine
was also II beautiful M woman, and
it had Il captivating sl.. prise in the last
chapter. II was steady, unmligated
tragedy from the first to the last
word. 1t was serious to the point of
depression, never dcviating into the
slightest approach to the comic or flip
pant. 1t was an intense story, dramat-
ically told in the first person. 1t had
not a line of philosophy. Indeed there
was not word in it unnecessary to
the simple telling of II powerful tale.
Its author had acted upon the old idea
that story should simply be a story
nothing more, nothing less. He dem
onstrated that it needed nothing 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 future achievements in the
fields 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 cx-
l hausted. Seeking recreation and rest.