The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1894-08-19
THE NEW REPOR-
TER'S STORY. "
From the San Francisco Argonaut.

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Write for the Times! Do you imagine
you went to college for that? You can't
write.'
Have you ever given me the chance?''
mo. But know you couldn't. Idare-
say you've been counting on doing this,
eh2" The younger man bowed. And
have been laying in a stock of flowing
rhetoric and fine-spun theories, " the elder
| continued. 'Humph The Times wouldn't
pay in months time if we fed the pub
| lie on stuff of that sort. What it wants
is food of another kind"
Whats to prevent my providing it as
well as the other writers on the staff? Is
my college education TO be drawba to
mel If it is"
The sentence was left unfinished and
the elder man silently returned to his
work of glancing over some copy spread
out on the desk before him. When he had
finished the last page, he turned to the
first and wrote IN. g' across the top.
What does that mean2" George Stan
ton inquired,
Those letters stand for must co."
Then whatever bears them goes9"
His uncle surveyed him with a grim
smile lighting his face.
It's apt to, " he said, dryly.
Then anything might write would be
| printed, regardless of its merit, if you so
marked III"
Certainly But you must remember
| that an uncle indulgent to faults and the
proprietor of this paper--a successful bus
mess enterprise-are two distinct person
alities--"
Which you bear; understand. But
surely literary merit cuts some igurel"
."Um--if the name of the writer who
possesses it is well known, it does''
Not otherwise9'
The elder man shook his head emphat-
ically. i've no use for EN-"
why that makes out the newspaper
of to-day money making machine of the
| lowest order" George Stanton exclaimed,
| Indignantly. The brains of the concern
are subservient TO the business Office"
Exactly"
There was a pause, during which the
younger man tipped back his chair
against the wall and gazed abstractedly
at the ceiling. AT length he brought the
legs of the chair to the floor with empha-
sis.
II still maintain that it isn't fair that
| | shouldn't be given a trial, " he remarked
II suppose you've got batch of manu-
scripts all ready to fire at me-" The
nephew's face flushed. Il thought so.
Well, don't want EN-. Now, see here,
what this paper wants isn't rhetoric, il
isn't eloquence, it isn't philosophy, it
isn't literary merit, as you call tits
Just life-plain, every life. wouldn't
publish the most beautiful fight of fancy
that was ever written-I've no use for
that sort But life--things near, local.
personal-give me those. If you keep
your eyes and ears open, you'll find more
tragedy in one block of san Francisco
than in the whole of Shakespeare"
Then you give me the chance2n
Frederick Stanton hesitated. Its open
to YOU the same as it is 10 all, - he replied
inditferently; you would be paid for
space work at our regular rates, providing
we accepted it. Mind you, | don't say IN
take what YOU write"
But if II suits, you'll m. g. it,"
IF 1t suits, the otner repeated, little
sarcastically, with movement which
closed the interview.
A week later the young man again pre-
sented himself in his uncles private office
i've followed your advice, uncle Fred,
and taken life for my subject" He threw
himself into chair and gave a twist 10
his head in the direction of the inner
door 1t was slightly aJar, and he rose
and shut IL before he resumed "You
see, what you said about the tragedies of
life-and, Of course, | inferred that you
meant the comedies as well-being right
under our noses. as it were, set me to
thinking. Meantime, l have found out
the true meaning of your mystic letters
Whatever bears them must 90 in
the columns of the next issue, re-
gardless Of time, space or other consid-
GRAFTON. + They are so potent as 70 require
no explanation no suggestions from the