Butler citizen. [volume] (Butler, Pa.) 1877-1922, 1895-02-21

ute's dismayed scrutiny, recognized as
himself The book was blank inside;
In short, what is technically known as
dummy"
There's nothing in it just yet" said
Dodgers, affably; but there soon will
be-" He whistled down tube. "Mr.
Patterson, want you"
"Mr. Patterson" was a long, lank
man, with big feet, and brought with
him an odor of gin which penetrated
all over the room.
"You want me, sir?" asked Patter-
son, obsequiously.
Yes" said Dodgers. Have you re-
written Mr.. Buncombe's first book yet?"
Yes" answered Patterson, lust got
1t done, sir. Five pounds amt much,
but soon mastered his style, and I've
got his first, second, and third periods
all done to a u"
What on earth is the meaning of 1t
alp" Buncombe asked, furiously.
''It MEANS" said Dodgers, proudly,
"I've invented a newline, and I'm going
to start with you. Directly your arti-
Gle appears, I've arranged for para
graphs in two hundred and ninety
seven papers, saying I've got four hun
dred copies left of the original edition
of She Wasn't to Blame. I'm going
to multiply those four hundred copies
like the widows cruise, and float 'em all
over the universe. You're very popular
just now, and the book will go like
wildfre. Mr.. Patterson, have you done
the paragraph which Mr.. Buncombe is
going to insert in the article which he
has written?'
Yes" said Patterson; its a judi
cious blend of all Mr.. Buncombe's
periods-just like they mix tea-with
a gentle geniality tempered by regret
that he hasn't done more for you"
Here it is" said dodgers, proudly.
"Now, I'll read il. It's your colloquial
style to dot"
OF course have had literary vicis-
situdes, gentle reatcr. and have gone
about hungry and footsore, without
the proverbial shilling in my pocket;
but | have always had one unfailing
refuge under those distressing circum-
stances, and that was my dear old
friend Dodgers, of ft.tcr Lane, who
has since blossomcd out into Il flourish
ing publisher. Many's the time and
oft / have stood with Bodgers, as we
rubbed our hungry noses against the
steaming windows of a pudding shop
In Fetter Lane, and vainly felt in my
empty pockets for the necessary coin
wherewith to purchase surcease from
hunger. 1t was generally Dodgers who
produced the required coins from some
subterrranean recesses in his ample
person. In return, promised Dodgers
that he should have the unique privilege
of printing my first book, and that I
would make his fortune. Alas! how
have requited Dodgers? He printed
"She Wasn't to Blame" but even the
Times notice which floated me on to
fortune could not sell it, and most of
the unbound copies are lying in his
mildewy cellars, pining vainly for the
light Twas not well done, old friend,
to play thee such scurvy trick, but
some day I will buy every remaining
copy. and prove that am mot migrate
full"
"Therel" said Dodgers, rubbing his
hands. II know you are hard up, Mr..
Buncombe. I'll give you an extra ten
ner to work that paragraph into your
article. Come now"
Buncombe hesitated. But / can't
let hashed-up farrago of nonsense go
forth to the world under my name" he
said, uneasily She Wasn't to Blame
was quite short story"
"You leave that to Patterson" said
Dodgers, confidentially. Hes done it
so beautifully that all the critics will
say 1t is the most confusing book ever
published, and that their predecessors
must have been asses not to detect it's
early promise; they'll say it embodies
all your later developments as well,
and is most remarkable work, from
which anyone with a grain of sense
ought to have predicted your future
greatness"
But won't Patterson split?" asked
Buncombe. 81 wouldn't mind if could
rewrite the thing myself. / pitched
upon it as my first book because
thought it would stimulate public
curiosity. The public always yearns
for what it can't get"
Not to be thought of. =" said Dodgers
Patterson will do it ever so much bet
ter; you see, he's studied your style;
and I've got man to look after him
when he's drunk. He could initiate
Herodotus if l wanted him to, but he's
no originality"
II think he's the most original writer
of the nineteenth century" said Bun
combe, bitterly, ''if he knows more
about my work than do"
well, now" said Dodgers, soothing
ly, well start off with your opening
paragraph of She Wasn't to Blame
just as concession. Here it is in
proof. Do you remember it?"
Buncombe read it. "Ah, had fresh
ness in those daysl" he said, sorrow
fully. 81 couldn't write like that
now"
Patterson wrote every word of it."
said BoGgers, trlumphantly. producing
the original story, which was about
five thousand words in length. Just
compare them. Now are you satisfied"
"Yes; Patterson is great copyist."
Il was the first to discover Patter-
sons initiative powers" said Dodgers
He began on one of my checks, but I
directed his efforts into worthier chan
nels. Consequently, he daren't open
his mouth except when he's drunk"
II assure you, Mr.. Dodgers, SIR" said
Patterson, I'm never drunk till after
Office hours. You pain me, sir. I
pledged you my honor. sir, the honor
OF poor gentleman"
That's all right" said Bodgers.
carelessly. Now you can go;" and
Patterson departed.
Buncombe's first book" article made
an enormous success, and, thanks to
Dodgers paragraphs, applications
came IN for ''She Wasn't to Blame" from
all over the country. There grew up a
boom in Buncombe, and he loased him
self out to syndicate for five years at
four thousand a year, and paid off his
debts. Dodgers was so enraptured at
the success of his plan that, when he
had sold forty thousand Of the shabby
edition of "She Wasn't to Blame" he
brought out new one. One afternoon
when he took Buncombe a big check,
that worthy, with some qualms of con-
science, asked after Patterson.
Hes in bed" said Bodpers, regret
fully. "slceDinp off his lnst av,o.s