The daily morning journal and courier., 1894-09-29

clare;" and "A little rest'll do you good, Mir. Breem:" followed from mem bers of the board in quick succession.
 The last remark. by Editor shotweii. was happy one. It somewhat re- lieved the general embarrassment. The managing editor seated himself wearily, fixing his attention upon the open door with the wariness Of picket when the enemy's lines crowd closely.
 We wish to congratulate you, MT. Breem. on the success, the extraordina- ry success. of the Motor" began Editor Shotwell uneasily.
 Success of the Motor;" the other four blandly echoed.
 And express our satisfaction as to the general-the general" r,.g.
 "State of the market" ventured Edi- tor Lomster in a burst of helpful en- thusiasm. suddenly recalling the recent happy advance in hides. fr And emphasize our approval Of your editorial management in every partic- ular, save on one point" bravely in- sisted Editor Backus.
 "one point;" the others heartily re- iterated. f
 Here Klrtley Breem's thin fingers crushed his old straw hat like bunch of killed copy" .f
 "on that pint" blurted out Editor Whitaker firmly. i've can't by no means agree. That pint is-"
 "Never mind. sir" came quickly and quite as decidedly from the managing editor. You shall have my resigna- ton in your hands in five minutes l time!'
 | As Kirtley Breem said this, there was an awful look in his strange, cadaver- ous face; a look such as might come over the face of one who, whipped on by a steadfast love or heroic duty or sacrifice In endless or rewardless toll, reaches suddenly the ultimate of effort in terror for Its swift ruin to others, transfgured in momentary realization of pitiless scourge at end.
 Some instinctive consciousness or this seemed to fit through the minds of the men before him, and for moment 1t stilIed them. But in an instant more they were all upon their feet, restrain ing him from his purpose and filling the room with the clamor of their protests.
 "Lord-we didn't mean that" gasped Editor Whitaker, in very perspira- tion of mild desperation. Cant we no ways git inside your machinery, long huff t do leetle friendly packin an oilin,. Kirtley Breem?"
 The managing editor arose to go. Editor whitaker, with a quick move of his fat little body, reached the door before him; snapped 1t shut with loud click; turned the key in the lock; and with his dumpy brown hands behind him and his dumpy broad back against the door, he exclaimed triumphantly:
 "Kirtley Breem, it's no use! You've got t listen t tn voice O reason. You're killin' yourself here. This ere boards unanimously decided that you've got t take a vacation. All work an Sic piay-hang the rest of it!-t Kinder go into dry dock n git tn barnacles off yer copper n yer sineral apparatus' es frightened up. Now, make 1t four six or eight weeks, jest as ye like; but out ye go, t'morrer mornin'"
 Good, good" "Go 1t" enthusiastic
 ally cried the rest of the board.
 "We ain't no all around editors lik'
 you be, Kirtley Breem; but we're goin t take turns here at tn wheel, whil' you go below. If she (the Motor wa!
 undoubtedly referred to) goes smooth
 then smooth she goes! If she goe'
 jinky an crinky, we don't mind few cogs a-slippin'! Git yer dunnage t'geth
 CT t'night Breem. Now, no hemmin an hawin' It's passed tn board 'thout ary nay" t4 2,
 The managing editor was helpless ir
 their hands and he looked 1t. He seemed
 to be panting like g caged animal More
 than once he endeavored to rise, an6
 then to speak. His eyes famed anc paled and appeared to penetrate out
 above their heads to the remotest out
 teachings of the great establishment
 If these men could have known, they
 could not have but have followed then on, on, far beyond all that!
 i've been here very. very long," ht faltered.
 , Don't natter" retorted Editor Whit
 taker doggedly. "All tn wuss" You are all very kind, gentlemen , But-but I simply cannot afford it." As he said this, his self-conscious } ness was of meanness and insignifi 5 canoe. To them, he seemed infinitel! } 1 beyond and above them. Five Ia hands instantly made five swift dive . into five pletoric pockets.
 } "Oh, 1t isn't that! It isn't thatl' lf came so like a cry from the lips o Kirtley Breem, as the old straw swishet through the air, that the live fat hand
 relaxed and slid silently from thei receptacles.
 r1 Anybody weighting you down, keep ing you back, choking you off, smoth ering you under, Breem?" Editor Loms ter, who had for time been silent
 blurted suddenly at the bowed man up on the rack
 '"Who said there was? Wh0 dare sa! thatv'he answered back hoarsely an, fiercely, shaking his clenched fist ant crushed hat defiantly at the speaker My God! Let me out of here at once Lat once, gentlemen!
 :. Trembling and palid, Kirtley Breen sprang toward the door. But Edito
 Whitaker anticipated him. He ha, one arm about him in twinkling. hold ing him gently yet firmly as in wise
 He raised the other and let 1t flute , back and forth toward his astounde' companions for a long time, before h f seemed able to gather fitting word , from his turbid and onrushing thought I and conjectures. ,-. Fs D.
 "There's some things" he finall. S stammered !, "a 1eetle too close t th