The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1895-11-21
A CLEAR CASE.

Frank Nanbrugh held a good appoint
ment on the staff of the Daily Argus,
and always had more literary work on
hand than he knew how to get through
he might, therefore, be considered d
''rising" man. He had written little
book of essays, and the critics had told
him that he had a style-which is per-
haps the highest praise that critics deal
IN nowadays. On the other hand, his
one-volume novel had been pronounced
crude, morbid and over-ambitious, and
had gone through three editions;
whence it may easily be seen. that he
was on the road to popular success.
He had begun to know this, chiefly by
the kind of circulars that now reached
him in half-penny wrappers. They
used always to be advertisements of
patent fuel, new stoves, or outftters'
warehouses; they now prove to contain
notices of prosecuting firms, and
booksellers catalogues significant
change. us this fame?" he once asked
himself, when he was requested to send
his photograph and a sketch of his
early life to an American newspaper
On second thoughts, lie concluded that,
although it could not be called fame, it
might mean success, and he went on
his way rejoicing.
But even a moderate success like his
has its drawbacks, as he discovered, to
his cost.
Like most journalists, he was not
very early riser and it was with a feel
ing of distinct irritation that he heard
one morning while he was still in his
bath the announcement of a visitor.
Coming" he roared through the
door to the ad jacent sitting-room, and
proceeded to dress himself in a leisure
ly manner, wondering meanwhile
whether this early caller were a print
er's devil or dun.
He looked personable young fellow
as he came out of his room of middle
height, muscular, brisk, erect, with a
keen hawks eye, dark hair that curled
wherever it was long enough to get a
chance, quick, bright manner, and a
smile that was very attractive. His air
of health and joyousness made him a
he found in his sitting-room; a man
who might be any age between 30 and
so, sallow, worn, indescribably fatigued-
looking, with a long, fair mustache, a
down rodden look, and decidedly shah
by clothes of somewhat foreign cut.
He made profound bow when Van
brugh entered, and stood clasping his
FOL I,+ - I, = -, /
titude of humble expectancy, while his
host, CHANGING at him carelessly, asked
him to be seated, and himself took his
usual place near his desk.
Il am ashamed to intrude upon YOU"
said the man, speaking in low, fluent
voice notunpleasantt to the ear, but the
fact was that Messrs. Mailing recon-
mended me to call upon you
"Eh?" said Vanbrugh. He suddenly
remembered an account that he had
lately seen in the papers of man who
visited authors with false testimon-
ials and messages from publishers: and
he wondered if this were the man. Ger
tainly Messrs. Mailing & Son were his
publishers. Have you letter from
Mr.. Mailing to me?" he asked, rather
sharply.
The stranger lifted his hand depre-
catingly. Not from Mr.. Mailing" he
said, in gentle voice, but | have a
letter to show you. Mr.. Mailing said
that l ought to show it to you. He
was very kind, but, of course, he could
not find me work to do. 1t is work
that | am in search of, sir; and unless
l find it | dare not think of what will
happen to my wife and children"
The paper in his hand. bore an en-
graved crest and address with which
he was well acquainted. He turned to
the last page to see the signature. 1t
was one which he knew well, and the
letter, addressed TO Mailing, the pub
Usher, gave a glowing account of the
bearers abilities and past achieve
ments.
Your name, then" said Vanbrugh,
keeping his eye on the letter, ''is Charles
Simmonds?"
"Yes-yes-at your service; if there
is anything l can possibly do for you.
l have had nothing to do for the past
three months, owing to an illness from
which L have only just recovered. If
you had any copying"
but | don't want anything copied"
said Nanbrugh, in a rather perplexed
tone. Il do all my work myself And
! don't know, but perhaps-if you
called at the Daily Argus Office to-mor-
row, about four or five, l might have
heard of something"
He was almost abashed by the mans
eager gratitude. you give me new
hope" he cried, starting up as if he
could no longer endure to remain seat
ed. Then his face fell; the fire died out
of his blue eyes; his hands fell helpless
ly to his sides.
My poor wifQ-my children" he
muttered. Must ] go hasne empty
handed once again? Sir, If of your
goodness you could lend me poor half
crown will faithfully"
'Oh good Lord" said Vanbrugh,
shocked more at the smallness of the
request than by anything else, and
touched also. he scarcely knew why;
"here's a trihe-if you can make any