Warren sheaf. [volume] (Warren, Marshall County, Minn.) 1880-current, 1895-03-28

"ClC ginning huNi hio IuduhCA Al1u
grown little boisterous.
'And now no more wine, he said, as
he dismissed the waiter. 81 shall suf-
fer terribly in the morning from what
] have had already, and Bellamy will
bully me in his polite way for a week.
Let us go into the library and smoke.
We shall be quite alone, and can have
a coy chat. 1t is not often that have
the nerve to face my books, much as
love them. Time was when things
were very different, and
Wanless broke off abruptly, and led
the way to the library. A lamp was
on the table; little fire burned in the
CRATE; and yet, in that cheerful, book
lined apartment, I felt singularly de-
pressed. tried to shake off the feel
ing; tried to ignore the CLEAN that
flashed in the dark, restless eyes of my
companion. With as much ease as I
could assume, I carelessly examined
the well-flled shelves. 'sYou appear
to have good selection here" re-
marked. ''In SO select gathering, I
am flattered at seeing volume Of my
own" Any writer will pardon the in
nocent vanity of the remark. l heard
a short, sharp exclamation break from
my host. l saw his eyes blazing as he
looked toward the book on which my
hand lay lovingly.
'Oh, SO you are that Osborne" he
said, in manner most uncompliment-
tary. II had no idea that was enter
tanning SO great man. All! ah!" The
laugh was about the most unpleasant
that have ever heard.
''Sit down." my host commanded.
ooh, know your work very well, in
deed. In fact, know the work of the
whole gang Of you. But haven't read
a line of that volume of short stories
you have there. The stories are quite
recent, I SUPPOSE"
I replied as quietly as could in the
affirmative, at least as quietly as a
man can when his host, with eyes sin
fine frenzy rolling" locks the door
and puts the key carefully away in his
pocket.
Then, of course, you remember all
the denouement-hateful word, Wanless
said, as he opened my innocent book
and glanced at the first story. ''We
will have little mental amusement, and
you shall. correct me if am wrong. I
see the first story is "a ghost tale,
called, THE White Mystery And
here, looking casually through, I find
are two characters. They are brothers
one, a brave military man; the other,
a nervous, imaginative youth, who is
scotfed at by the brother because he
fears ghost. Let me forecast the end
of the story. The youngster sees the
spools, and dies of terror on the spots
while the other fool can never speak
afterwards without trenhlings. when
he recounts the story. Doesn't he say
that he cannot speak of the nameless
horror of that awful face?" 50. :
lyon have guessed it, I said, with a
stifed parody of a laugh. @7
But Wanless did not appear to be at
all elated by his success. He smiled
with bitter, weary scorn, and huttered
over the leaves to the next story. 81
take no credit to myself for that dis
covery." he proceeded. Here is anoth-
CA A1CC1C CHAAS CACAIACus W. OACAC
Dick Heavens! what awful memories
does that hoary kind of title conjure
up. Let me prophesy again. Uncle
Dick is man of money; he is crusty
and curt; the hero of the story written
in the photographed style-wants to
marry a cousin; and the old boy won't
let him. Said old boy dies Of apoplexy
after-a fit of passion, and leaves moth
ing to the narrator but an old deed
chest. in which are discovered securi-
ties Of priceless value. So they get
married, and live happily ever after,
eh?"
''Your foresight is really wonderful"
i replied. anyone would think that
you had been writer of current fiction
yourself"
Wanless glared at me so threatenly
that i involuntarily moved toward the
poker. His eyes were filed with hor-
ror, hate and loathing.
''Man. you don't know what I am.
You cannot understand what has
brought me to my present pit1able con-
dition,' he Kissed. 'Let us carry on
the CHASTITY farce to the end, Here is
another of your screeds. It is called
The Black Bag wonder how many
thousands of tales have been written
with the same title? Again, let us
pursue the psychological programme.
The hero is a young man who gets into
conversation with an engaging stran-
ger in railway carriage. The fas-
cinating one has a black bag. When
they change carriages, some one ac-
costs the stranger, who informs his
companion he is detained by business.
Well, he delivers the bag at an:address
in Liverpool. It's always Liverpool,
by the way. Well, the police arrest
the courteous ass, and the bag con-
tains an Internal machine. Man, can
you deny that am correct?"
! couldn't. My head was bowed with
shame. Viewing myself in the lurid
mirror Of those aarke yes,I savings elf
as others see me. Never has. an author
been so at the mercy of a critic before.
II claim no marvellous foresight .
Wanless said sternly. ''Let us try
again. Here is another story, called
"A Strange Coincidence need II. say
that it refers to singular dream of a
deserted wife, which makes such an
impression upon her that she tel
egraphs her husband not to 60 near a
certain place at time named. He dis
regards the warning, and is murdered.
Again, will ask you to correct me If I
am Mistaken ~ Il
"Well, you are, this time, said as
cheerfully as possible. ''The husband
refrains, and some one mistaken for him
is done to DEATH"
This little point in my favor rendered
me more cheerful Twas about to give
vent to some little jsu d'esprat, when my
companion gave cryof rage and hor-
ror, at the same time dashing the book
to the ground. 81 knew it," he shouted
as he bounded to his feet; II knew that
I should come across it in that cursed
volume. / cannot even get away from
it in my solitary retreat. Is there no
originality in the craft at all? Here it
is, in your volume called by. Mem
A. = IN = I'M 80 -