The Colfax chronicle. [volume] (Colfax, Grant Parish, La.) 1877-1981, 1893-09-02
THE EDITORS VISITOR.
How Polly Sold Her Grandpa's
Returned Manuscript.

itOr OF the Chronicle was very busy
making out an assignm,n list, when a
queer old-fashioned figure of a man
came into the room and stood waiting
by the side of the desk.
sWell?" said the city editor, looking
up sharply, after an instant, what do
you want?"
II wanted to know If you could make
use of this?" answered the newcomer,
timidly holding out small bundle OF
manuscript.
.'I'm sure we can't. unless it's some
thing a trifie less hoary with age than
that you brought here the other day."
The city editor. who was compare
lively young man, very alert, very
quick in speech and all business, took
the manuscript, unfolded it with snap
and ran his eye over the first few lines.
Then he wheeled his chair around and
said, Strengthening up and speaking
testify:
"Now look here, John Harmon, once
and for all, understand that it's no use
bringing such stuff as that in here, and
won't be bothered with looking at it!
Why, this is identically the same an
cient history you tried to shove of on
me the other day."
"But 1 polished it upr' suggested the
old man.
polished your grandfather" ex-
claimed the other. "Why, you couldn't
polish that matter so that it would be
readable if you worked forever. It's
hard'luck; but the plain truth is there are
too many young men hustling for live
news to allow of such back number
trash as that being good for anything
but to stop a hole. haven't got any
more time to talkl If you get any news
bring it in and will look at it! Other
wise stay away, please!"
The city editor faced his desk again,
picked up his pen and fell to work, not
looking at the other. The older man
for an instant stood motionless; then
he picked up the manuscript. put it in
his pocket, and turning away walked
slowly out of the room without a word.
The wind was biting hard outside
and he drew his collar about his ears as
he walked despondently down side
street. He had not far to go, for pres
emily he went up the steps of a small
house and opened the door. The room
into which he came was bare and miser-
able-looking, and everywhere showed
the lack of woman's hand to straighten
the few bits of furniture, which only
served by their mean repair to add to
the forlorn appearance of the apart
ment. The old man stood quite still,
one hand resting On the doorjamb,
staring ahead of him as if he saw be
yond the opposite wall. As he stood
there, there came a glad child's cry
from the other end of the room:
'Oh, gran'pop! glad you comel It's
awfully lonely!''
The old mans face frightened. he
reached down, and, as the little girl
came running to him, caught her up
and laboringly lifted her to his breast.
Then he kissed her and put her down.
She did not see the tears on his cheeks
as he talked to her of the fun they
would have that evening latter work
was done" After work was done was
the season when these two had grand
romps together. Work, as little Polly
well knew, meant writing, writing,
writing until she would crawl upon the
old mans knee and beg him to come
play, and he would drop the pen from
his cramped fingers and let her kiss
from his eyes the mist which would
gather there when he kept his mind
long fixed on the pages before him.
John Harmon was nearly eighty, "a
broken-down newspaper man. he was
called. and his only inheritance from
past days was q knowledge of news
paper writing and little granddaugh
ter whose mother and father had died
in fever epidemic few years before
The old man threw the rejected
manuscript on q chair, then set about
getting something to eat for himseli
and the child, the little one all the
while chattering to him of what they
would do in the evening. When they
finished he pulled on his coat once
more, kissed the child and went ou
again. A publishing-house hat
promised to look over some manuscript
he had left week or so before II,
was going there to get their answer
He comprchended duly that Thu
answer might mean something to eat
but more likely keener hunger thai
ever.
When the child was left to hersel
she sat down and fell to looking owe
some illustrated papers which wer'
her invariable source of musement
BY and by, becoming tired, she
wandered over to the table. The re
jected manuscript on the chair caugh
her eye. Gran'pop's papers were for
hidden articles to her, but when shs
saw this packages and slowly spelled
out the writing on its cover, 9TH
Chronicle" there came to her mine
that gran'pop had told her when h
was writing this address the night be
fore and was too busy to play with he
that the manuscript had to be sent il
tomorrow. This was tomorrow, sh'
reasoned, and the manuscript had no
gone. Gran'pop must have forgotten