The National tribune., 1894-08-09

sl kssE Graham LongstTeets Offic
M t@ one cold evening in March
S& l am seedy, for fact
Take cigar. You vii
find those on the table good brand. Whel
l have poked the fire l will tell you my lat
| est dilemma"
Tom murmured between his cigar puffs
=" / am waiting for your tale of woe"
1t is hardly so tragic as that, only an an
noyance. You know Stuart really put MT
in the Comet; started it with his money
the whole thing in my hands,"
And so far it has been success ?" saiG
his friend.
Yes, more so than we could have hoped
But it requires, as you may guess, constant
thought, and /, as head man, naturally have
a great responsibility in my selection Of
artieles-in the fiction department particu.
| larly, which, as in all papers, is inundated
| with good bad and Indifferent matter"
Go on, then" more drowsily from Tom
Here is letter Stuart sent me to-day
accompanied with this much-rolled manu-
script:
Dear Graham-Keep a place in your fiction cor
ner if possible for this little story That send you
1t is written by friend of mine whom am anx-
ious TO assist reverse In fortune has obliged
her TO do something TO support herself and mother
and she thinks writing is her forte.
This is her first attempt. have not read it, as
hate stories. but / it is clever for her
father, David Leighton. of the brightest
men ever knew. However, / depend upon you
to give her a start. Could you not give her an
editorial puff and obige your friend,
George r. Stuart.
"Now what do you think of that?" asked
Graham, desperately.
WE'LL" said Tom, quite walked up to the
situation, the story is the point. is it
good
Good? The veriest trash ever written.
Slipshod and careless in style-an absolute
ignorance of her sHbject-and it is even
badly spelled"
THAT last could be remediedn
"WeIl yes; but you know it is unusual
for such things to have to be DONE"
" Does it show any promise?"
THAT is the queer part. There is some
small gleam Of wit, or rather a sort of hu-
NOR, if you can understand what [ mean.
But the plot is crude, the love-making sheer
nonsense, and the ending long-drawn out
and impossible, while many of the sentences
are badly constructed and jungrammatical."
Impossible, then, to publish it, 1 sup
pose?"
AS she has written it, yes; and ] have
neither the time nor capacity to alter it,"
And you could not disappont Stuart ?"
"I fear not. You see, fiction TO him is all
bosh at best. He would say doctor it up
and get it in somewhere" said Graham,
hepelessly.
why not 90 and see the authoress and
suggest to her to rewrite it?o asked Tom,
practically.
"The very thing. old boy! Sometimes
advice is good, though shall dread acting
on it. OF course, she is, oIdish, and ugly,
and gushingIy romantic. Besides, having
lost her money, she will probably weep
great deal"
Zone can't tell" said Tom, rising to 60
" They are pretty plucky sometimes, these
unprotected females, and l should judge
from the iuexperience that you say the
story displays that she must be young"
"Old maid, rather, who never had love
affair, | fancy; for the younger they are the
more they dash into the unknown and are
apt to take the feminine exponents Of pas
sionate literature for their models. But
drop in tomorrow at this time and will
report progress"
1t was with vexed and perturbed spirit
that Graham Longstreet rang the bell Of
the forlOrn little house where Miss Leighton
had planned and written her dsub btful story.
He sent up his card by the small servant
and waited nervously In the shabby, dark
parior for what he feared was to be try
ing interview; therefore, he was not pre-
pared for the vision of slim lovliness, draped
in the deepest mourning, that softly opened
the door, and bowling sweetly TO him took
chair opposite his.
Without the slightest hesitation she be-
gan at once on the subject SO interesting to
them both.
You are Mr. Longstreet, are you not?
And you have come about my story. Do
you like it? l hope people will enjoy read
ing it AS much as dill writing il. 1t is, in
fact, the only pleasure have had for SO Iong!"
said Miss Leighton, the hope Of success dy-
ing away in the pathos of her last sentence
Mr.. Longstreet was fearfully embarrassed
now could he tell this lovely creature, so
sadly beautiful, that he considered her first
literary venture the worst trash he had ever
read I?
So he answered, temporizingly: Have
you ever written or tried to write in any |
other line, Miss Leighton?"
"Why, no." said she, brightly her face,
like an April day, changing with every
mood. "I Is not love story what most
people care for?"
You see, just at present short. terse |
style is the most popular"
'' can try to make my venture shorter.if |
you wish," said the poor girl, her face flush
ing with disappointment. What could 1 |
leave out?o
Could you get the lovers to one side and |
make more of the old ,aunt?" asked Mr.. |
divided by two opinions-his |
hatred of bad story, and his most unreason-
able desire to take the disappointed young
authoress in his arms and kiss her as he |
would tired, hurt little child.
" / thought the lovers were so nice," said |
Miss Leighton, "and the aunt is abomin-
able. She is exactly like an old woman |
| used to know in Bristol"
"Yes, bat she IS. amusing, and could be |
worked up. The lovers are not very nat
ural-or rather, they are trife old-fash-
Ioned." &C t1C
"I thought lovers never changed" said |
Miss Leighton, ON the defensive. Il am /
afraid the amt is too old to do much to her;
am sure do not know what to do Writ
ing seems the only thing, and poor mama is
so i'll and dear papa is dead. Our money is all |
stolen and we have no one to take care of |
ns.n
At this sad climax Margaret Leighton put I
her head down on sofa cushion and burst /
into tears.
Poor Graham Lengstreet! Hos he had
always hated scenes and tears! Strange that /
this time they only appealed to him, and
the temptation to comfort her in some way /