Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1891-08-09

sheet, Wnat ndlllafQS VIII ne nrSb Stdrtl
This was poser for me. Mr.. Clark
Russell grinned sardonically as he waited
for reply. / pictured myself at sea,
as had often been, / waited . moment
and then I said:-"I would begin by
hauling down flying jib and Glowing up
main royal"
''But that would be quite wrong,"
smilingly replied Mr.. Russell, "while
your fore and mizzen royals were still
abroad" whereat his youngest SON, a
jolly lad of fourteen and true chip OF
the old block, burst into scornful
laugh that made the rafters ring again
THE thought OF the horrid mess in
which l, poor critic and journalists
would precipitate myself were placed
in such perplexing circumstances.
blushed deep red, and realized as
l had never done before that there are
moments in a mans life when silence is
indeed golden. changed the subject.
show came you, Mr.. Russell" asked
when the boys ringing laugh had died
away-''how came you, practical
sailor, to take to novel writing?"
VOW HE CAME TO WRITE.
swell, the taste for writing first came
to me In very curious manner at sea.
We were homeward bound from Sydney,
and when abreast OF the Horn / was
washing down the decks whep the bat
ten hencoop was discovered missing.
The captain told me to look for 1t. /
couldn't find II, whereupon the captain
grew angry. / was cheeky and so the
captain ordered me below, bread and
water and irons, prisoner for the rest
of the voyage. Having naught 10 do, !
took to reading Tom Moore, and that
started me to the writing Of poetry.
81 didn't go to sea again. l wrote
drama Fra Angelo, in 1856, which was
produced by Walter Montgomery, per-
formed at Haymarket and which proved
a great failure. Then Fechter, who had
seen this piece of mine, asked me to
translate the Corsican Brothers for him.
He wanted his part in blank verse, but
when it was recited to Charles Dickens,
who was, you know, a first rate actor
himself, he strongly objected.
Il gave up writing tragedies-one
was quite enough for me. / then wrote
John Houldsworth, Chief Mate;' that
was my first nautical novel. Then
well known publisher asked me to write
one for him, and the Wreck of the Gros-
venor' was my response to his request.
However, his reader returned it with the
remark that it was merely a catalogue
OF ships furniture. 1t was accepted by
Marston.
"My friends sometimes try and tempt
me ashore. No. / say, i am web-foot-
ed and I shall stick TO the sea- My
object is to keep the standard elevated.
As rule, sea stories are only written
for boys, and yet England, which is
great maritime country, possesses no
great sea novelist"
loudly demurred. "Mr. Russell, you
are fishing; however, let that pass. Are
your stories all founded on fact?"
"Well, most of them are. For In
stance, l once read in the papers OF
mutiny at sea, in which the steward had
thrown over a bottle containing an ac-
count of it. / pondered over that until
finally l wrecked the 'Grosvenor. The
Sea Queen was suggested by the true
story Of captains wife who was on
board q steamer, and all the crew ex-
cept the captain and the mate fell III.
They worked In the engine room. She
steered and brought the vessel into the
haven where they would be.
HIS VOCATION DEAR.
"This sea novel vocation is very dear
to me. IL is the next best thing to be-
ing at sea itself All the sailors | de-
scribe are men 1 have met in the fo'c'sle,
kept watch with, gone aloft with; they
are fast dying type In this age OF
steamers. And how vast distinction
there Is between the blue jacket and the
merchantmen. The one 1.-the, active
as a cat, full Of his ideas OF discipline;
the other slow, grumbling, disconnected,
full of bad food and constant OF COM
plant. Half the profanity OF poor Jack
is to DO found in the scuttle butt and
the fouler harness cask (Anglice, the
drinking tin and food cask).
"No, there is not nearly so much
bullying as there used to be, except IN
those beastly Nova Scotian ships. They
are dreadful"
At this moment short, stout, hale,
red faced, silver haired old. man, jolly
as a sandboy, entered the room. Here
am" he cried, "Al, first class, copper
bottomed. Present me to your friend"
1t was Clark Russell's father, dear old
Henry Russell, the celebrated composer
of "Cheer, Boys, Cheer" "Woodman,
Spare That Tree" and OF those many
songs which thrilled the great British
public fifty years ago. What body OF
romance the old man was! What story
In himself
He sat down. 81 must tell you the
best Joke l ever knew or heard OF. |
was in country town few months ago.
Walking up the street l saw large
placard, and on 1t in bold letters was
printed
ga lecture on the late Henry Rus
sell, the composer, l thought, Dear me,
that is very interesting / will go. l
went, the hall was crowded, the lee
turer eloquent and fattering. / kept
myself pretty well in hand until he went
on TO describe my funeral. 'Ahl how
can tell you of my feelings as the body
of my dear old friend, the composer OF
''Cheer, Boys, Cheer" was let down into
the grave and the cruel clods OF earth
ratified upon the coffin lid The audi
ence was In tears. / was shaking with
laughter. proposed the vote Of thanks
in my own name. Tableau!"
And the old fellow went of again into
ringing pesls Of laughter, ss he recalled
the ludicrous scene.
And now what more can say?
The interview is done, and Ilesve the
sailor novelist, and the stored wreck,
and the sea beating upon the lonely
beach, but as l leave these words OF
Herman Melville, that splendid writer
Of old ocean upon the other side, are
ringing in my ears, and they shall ring