Santa Fe daily New Mexican. [volume] (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1885-1897, 1895-10-24
THE NEW CRITICISM.

coward not to take header Off Westmin-
ster bridge. l can't face Rose again-my
Rose of the world (Sees half finished
letter, which lies near brandy bottle on
the table close beside him. Cad, must
have dreamed l finished that and posted
1t. She has been grieving about me,
know. I wonder where those cartridges
are Gle goes into the next room. A
knock at his door and sweet voice.)
"Kenneth, may come imp (Another
knock, and, after pause, Rosamund Find
lay timidly enters.)
ACKNOWLEDGEMENT, met Hawkins
just going out to buy your breakfast, and
he let me in. Oh, Kenneth's not here, aft
or ALL but he has been here. There are the
newspapers. How my heart aches for himl
What wretches those critics are! should
like to see them killed with my own eyes!
He's begun letter. wonder If it Is to
me. (Reads.) "My own precious girl, I
have not courage to see you again. For
give me for what am about to- Oh,
has he killed himself? (She means and
falls on her knees with her face upon the
letter. Bolton comes to the doorway, the
revolver still in his hand, which he con-
ceals when he sees Rosamund.)
Bolton-My darling!
Rosamund-Oh, you are alive!
Bolton taking both her hands)-You
ought not to have come here Rose.
Rosamund-You wouldn't come to me.
You loft me sitting in the box at the thea
ter without word. 1t nearly broke my
heart.
Bolton-I could not face you and your
mother after that wretched flasco. /
knew then that the play was hopeless
failure went out alone and walked the
streets until could get the morning pa
pers. Those were terrible hours, but per-
haps ! felt spark Of hope until read
what the critics had to say. You know
that they all agreed my play was the work
of mailman; that 1t isn't even original;
that it's immoral that it's absurd; that
it's the worst bit of work put on the Lon
don stage for dozen years. You know
how our hopes were built upon it. And
what is left but debt, disgrace and disap-
work after this? What is life to me with
out hope Of your will not accept It'll
Rosamund-Oh, Kenneth, If you kill
yourself, you kill me too. (The voices Of
men laughing together boisterously are
heard in the hall) How terrible! must
have forgotten to close the outside door.
What shall dor
Bolton hastily puts her into the next
room, and, drawing the portiere, stands
before the door, as though at bay. Alex
ander Orme and five or six other men,
more or less young, enter, following their
own knock.)
A Journalist-We old chap, here we
are you see, to congratulate you.
Another Man-Luckiest fellow know!
Still Another MAXWELL, we don't
grudge it you, or we shouldn't be here.
Bolton CONFUSED and angry)-I don't
know what you mean. Have you come
here to laugh at mep
The ournalist--Laugh? Don t talk rotl
We've come to pat you on the back.
Bolton-In heavens name, for what?
The ournalist-Because you re In such
deuced good luck Haven't you seen the
papersY
Bolton (grimly)-Yes; I've seen them.
Another MAXWELL then, what do you
want? What could be better? Does any
body say good word for you? Do they
leave you q leg to stand ons
Bolton-Not they And can't help
saying It's not exactly friendly in you all
to come spying about here, gloating over
my misfortune.
(They all close hilariously around him,
slapping him on the back and poking him
in the ribs.)
A Playwright-Don't be ON ass, dear
boy! We all know you're green, only born
two years ago-when you came to London
and this is your first play. But you
can't get us to believe that you're donkey
enough not to see that the critics have
simply combined to make your fortune.
Bolton-For Gods sake, take your sar-
casm somewhere else! They've ruined me,
that's all.
A Playwright-W old man, you are
behind the times! Haven't you learned
yet that nowadays the public goes by con-
traries? It's all the new criticism. II
the critics damn you, the people run after
you. They're filed at once with morbid
curiosity. They want to see for themselves
what's wrong-whether it's private spite,
or whether you We got anything to say that
1t would be better for them not to hear.
Jove, what luck you're in! Not one OF
two Of the papers, but all, come. down OH
you, and, as though they hadn't done
ouOuBA AOI you dAouuyS cAAOJ eSoessoN J wa
morality The parsons will be preaching
against you in church. You'll have ia
take larger theater. None of us has
ever contrived to fall on our feet like this
at the first jump.
The Journalist-See, here's Orme. Read
the papers and wouldn't rest till he'd
flashed over here to engage you to write
the next play for the Frivolity, lest he
i should be too late.
Another Man-Clever beggar! Knew
some other manager would have bagged
you before night.
Bolton-You're not all lying to cheer
+ me up. Is it really trueS
Alexander Orme-It Is, my boy. I've
come to talk business.
The Playwright-You must stand III
some wine all round.
Bolton-I will! will I'll drown you
| In champagne But go over to the club
and I'll join you there presently. DOM
think me inhospitable or ungrateful, but
| IL must have ten minutes alone. BY
| Jove, fellows, you've saved my life!
(They all 60 out laughing. The dool
slams behind them
Bolton-Rosamund
(Rosamund runs in, between tears ant
laughter. They fall into each other
arms, Sketch.
A Finger Pillory.
The finger pillory is still preserved care
fully in the parish church of st. Heller
Ashbv. de- Ia Couch and Is thus described