The Bennington banner. [volume] (Bennington, Vt.) 1858-1894, 1893-07-21
THE EDITORS VISITOR.

my OUT liS(, Wucu a
old-fashioned figure of a man came into
the room and stood waiting by the side
of the desk.
"Wen," said the city editor looking
up sharply, after an instant, what do
you wantT'
II wanted TO know if you could make
use of this?" answered the newcomer,
timidly holding out small bundle Of
manuscript.
~ sure we can't, unless it's something
trifle less hoary with age than that you
brought here the other day." The city
editor, who was comparatively young
man, very alert, very quick in speech and
all business, took the manuscript, I'M
folded it with a snap and ran his eye
over the first few lines. Then he
wheeled his chair around and said,
Strengthening up and speaking testify:
Now see 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 looking at it! Why,
this is identically the same ancient his
tory you tried to shove off on me the
other day."
"But have polished it up!" 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 work 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 stop a
hole. l haven't got any more time to
talkl If you get any news bring it in
and will look at i! Otherwise, 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 word.
The wind was biting hard outside and
he drew his collar about his ears as he
walked despondently down a side street.
He had not far to go, for presently he
went up the steps of a small house and
opened the door. The room into which
he came was bare and miserable looking,
and everywhere showed the lack of a
woman's hand to straighten the few bits
of furniture, which only served by their
mean repair to add to the forlorn appear
ance of the apartment. The old man
stood quite still, one hand resting on the
door-jamb, staring ahead of him as if he
saw beyond the opposite wall. AS he
stood there, there came glad child's
cry from the other end of the room.
"Oh, gran'pop, glad you come. 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 to-
gether. Work, as little Polly we'll 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 Crlmped 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 knowledge of newspaper
writing and little granddaughter
whose father and mother had died in a
fever epidemic few years before.
The old man threw the rejected manu-
script ON a chair, and 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
he pulled on his coat once more, kissed
the child and went out again. A pub
lIshing house had promised to look over
some manuscript he left week or so
before. He was going there to get the
answer He comprehended duly that
his answer might mean something to
eat, but more likely keener hunger than
ever.
When the child was left to herself she
sat down and fell to looking over some
illustrated papers which were her invar-
liable source of amusement. By and by,
becoming tired, she wandered over to
the table. The rejected manuscript on
the chair caught her eye. Gran'pop's
papers were forbidden articles to her,
but when she saw this package and slow
ly spelt out the writing on its cover,
1.-THE Chronicle, there came to her mind
that gran'pop had told her when he was
| writing this address the night before
and was too busy to play with her that
the manuscript had to be sent in to-mor-
row. This vas tomorrow, she reasoned,
and the manuscript had not gone.
Gran'pop must have forgotten it! He
would be sorry, she knew.
Presently there came to her a bright
idea and she stood very still for mo-
ment, thinking hard. Why could she
not take the manuscript to the Chroni-
Gle? She knew where the office was I;
she had been there with gran'pop. 1t
would be such surprise to him to find
it already gone when he came home.
| She decided to do it. She took the bun
die from the chair and pulled on her
| Jacket and tied her hood fast. She was
used to dressing herself and soon was
on the steps, the manuscript clutched
firmly in her hands. Then she started
for the Chronicle office, proud of her
self-appointed mission.
The elevator boy was much surprised
and not little amused when she asked
for the editor. He tried 20 chaff her on
the way up, but she refused to take any
notice of his remarks, if she understood
them. All her thoughts were on the top
story and the editor. Despite his fun
making the elevator boy was trifle i'm
pressed, and, thinking she might be one
of the sold mans" relations, when they
arrived at the upper floor he showed her
to the door of the sapctum and told her
to knock. Then he left her and went
back to his post.
The editor was greatly surprised when