The morning news., 1894-09-30

o. the first day Of July.
The duties usually comprised the de
claring of very large dividend, order
ing certain handsome improvements
electing q president, secretary and treas
urer for the ensuing year, and adjourn
ment to Vinley's for luncheon.
This was partaken Of in comfortable
gusto: when they went their several
ways, as befitted their various social and
commercial diguities, complacently car
ryinR fresh copies of the Daily Motor in
their hands, with acceptable Motor divi-
dend checks in their pockets and with
the sunshine Of the Motors great pros
perity radiating from their bland and
pleasant faces.
But this year the directors, as Mr..
Elijah Whitaker truthfuly remarked,
had struck a powerful snag.'
Mr.. Whitaker was in the towing line,
and this was naturally favorite form of
expression. He had boarded" the Mo
tor Company when IL needed a few thou
sands sorely, and his journalistic assocla-
tions had made him quick in simile and
comparison.
Indeed. similar conditions were true Of
the entire directory.
Gregg LOmster, wholesale leather;
IJucius Shotwell banker; Addison
Schooley, importer, and Rufus Backus,
retired capitalist, were all, like MIR.
Whitaker, sudden acquisitions on vari-
Gus occasions when the Motors affairs
were in perilous condition.
These farsighted gentlemen had be-
come associated in this commercial way
so long before, that the founders OF this
powerful engine of civilization, following
the invariable and inexpllcable fate OF
originators, had with one exception,
passed from sight into wonted beggary
and oblivion.
The directory, as now formed, had ex-
listed for years, placid in its equable and
ample returns, serene in its unctuous
honors, undisturbed by its almost ripple
less harassments in the genial and mel
low atmosphere of proprietary journal
ism.
The one exception was Kirtley Breem
the Daily Motors managing editor.
He was a thin, dark little man, with
bushy brows and sunken eyes and cheeks.
He came and went as softly and silently
as the night. From nine in the morning
until nine at night, and often much later,
during every day of the year for more
than twenty years, he had sat at the same
desk in his shirt sleeves, with an old
straw hat shading his eyes and a cob
pipe in his mouth and he had never ut
tered an unnecessary word in all that
time.
You could not find his address in the
city directory. The general public knew
nothing of him. His name never ap-
peared in panels of prominent citizens,
drawn for great public platform occa-
sions.
Not a soul connected with the Daily
Motor knew where he lived, or how; or
whether he was a bachelor or was human
enough to have divers little Breems
dangling and romping about him, in the
morning hour or hour OF lampllght he
might know the sacred retreat which
wise men have in homes.
He was inexplica ole, inextricable, in
eradicable. Entirely aside from his power
full though frictionless sway, his unob-
trusive personality had become as insep-
arabic a presence, or fixture in the
Daily Motor system as its engine fires,
its press thunderings, its copy, its types,
its supernal odor of printers ink, its
hundreds Of ragged newSbOys or its loi-
terers for nickels or notices.
Social systems had changed; this de-
partment editor and that, had come and
gone; newspaper management had been
revolutionized; monarchies had become
republics; Biographies of continents had
been readjusted; but Kirtley Breem, who
had come in with the founders of the
Daily Motor, still sat there coatless at
his desk under an old straw hat, smoking
q short cob pipe and doing his work as
noiselessly as though he were the ghost
of the human who had begun mis- silent
though mighty toll at the selfsame desk,
more than twenty years before.
whats the trouble about Breem, any,
how, Editor Whittaker1" asked other
Motor director editors concernedly.
Years before they had begun calling
each other editor" partly seriously and
partly in Jest, and the title was of such
pleasant sound and significance that it
would have been something of hardship
to have it overlooked in the city directo-
ries, by their contemporaries or by each
other now.
Well" replied Editor Whitaker
stoutly, Its jest a case of git Kirtley
Breem out o. commission, long enough for
repairs, or we kin look round for some
other craft in his place"
p"Failing powers ?'' asked Editor Backus
casually.
I'VE might increase his salary" sug-
gested Editor Shotwell crisply.
"Or reduce his wages and his hours -
added Editor LOmster cautiously. 81
have found that to be quite an excellent
spur to tagging help
What appear TO be the chop-marks on
MS INVOICE Ol lIOuDlGs mo ulreQ EQltOl
Schooley, with his huge importations up
permost in his own mind.
kinder general gOneness, I'd call il -
returned Editor Whitaker anxiOusly
"The other day l come up here to the
board room to figure up little; an
Breem rode up in the elevator long witt
me. He Jest nodded. Nothin cordial OF
hearty about it. / thought TO myself
You're stoopin more'n common, Kirtlel
Breem, but didn't mention it; he's 81
cussed touchy."
"Cussed touchy!" echoed the other di
rector editors sympathetically
well, when he got off at his floor, h,
kinder whirled round daled like a,
though he'd forgot where his room was
whats the matter with Breem2 / said
thinkin' out loud. 'Terbackyp piped uI
that jackanapes o. an elevator boy
'Bosh y says an no more remarks lik,
that about your betters, or yen git YOU
envelope at the office; that's what you'll
git, sonny says ]. ] went To tgurin', bu'
KEEP thinkin o. Kirtley Breem"
1T does you honor" remarked one o
the director editors encouragingly.
1T don't do US honor that we hahn
been tbinkln' o him long agom retortel
Editor Whitaker feelingly We've go
mOre'n a thousand per cent on our monel
already. Who's made IL fur u.s. Kirtlel
Breem. Who's been tuggin and bulletin
and plungin' while we sot round takin
toll Kirtley Breem!'
"kirtley Breem, two or three OF tn,
director editors murmured placidly.