The progressive farmer. [volume] (Winston, N.C.) 1886-1904, 1893-11-21
THE EDITORS VISITOR.
BY FRANCIS G WILLIAMS.

The noon hour had come, and the
city editor of the Chronicle was very
busy, making out an assignment list
when a queer old fashioned figure of 6
man came into the room and stood
waiting by the side of the desk.
WELL" said the city editor, looking
up sharply, after an instant, what dc
you want9"
1 wanted to know if you could
make use of this" answered the new
conner, timidly holding out a small
bundle OF manuscript.
I'm sure we can't unless it's some,
thing a trife lesa hoary with age than
that you brought here the other day."
d city editor, who was a compare
lively young man, very alert, very
quick In speech, and all business, took
the manuscript, unfolded it with a snap
n ran his eye over the irst few lines.
Then he wheeled his chair around and
said, Strengthening up and speaking
testify:
Now lock here, John Harmon, once
and for all, understand that it's no use
bringing such stuff as that in here, and
L won't be bothered with looking at it!
Why, this is id~entically the same
ancient history you tried to shove off
on me the other day"
But 1 polished it up!" suggested the
old man.
polished up 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. I haven't got any
more time to talk! If you getany news,
bring it in and I will look at it! Other
wise, stay away, please!'
The city editor faced his desk again,
picken up his pen and fell to work, not
looking at the other. The older man
for an instant stood m%otionless, 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 aside
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 mis-
cradle looking, and everywhere showed
the lack of a woman's hand to straight
en- the few bits of furniture, which only
served by their mea 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, Iglad youcomeI It's
awfully lonesome!"
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 a knowledge of news
paper writing and a little grand daugh-
ter, whose mother and father had died
in a fever epidemic a few years before.
The old man threw the rejected
manuscript On a chair, then set about
getting something to eat for himself
and the child, the little one all the while
chattering to him of what they would
do in the evening. When they had
finished hepulled on his coat once more,
kissed the child once more and vent
out again. A publishing house had
promised to look over 7omo manuscript
he had left a week or so before, He
was going there to get their answer
He comprehende ed fully that this an
swer might mean something to eat, but
moro likely. -keener hunger than ever