The Cook County herald. [volume] (Grand Marais, Minn.) 1893-1909, 1897-01-30
6bq mad Carrot
''This is the room," said Karl. Strike
a match, one Of you, while open the

The three friends were on the top
fight Of an old house that lay in a
street east Of the Bowery. The house
had been built in colonial times, and
about it was peculiar air Of desola-
ton. It had odd, winding staircases.
In the long ago people Of culture and
fashion had dwelt within it. But that
was very, very long ago, for now the
street was invaded by q miserable CO.'S
mopolitan horde hailing from all the
filth spots of the world. Fashion, or
rather the vulgar showing-off crowd
who now passed for people Of fashion
in New York, had gone up to Fifth ave-
nue.. The fine Americans Of the last
century were indeed no more.
Karl pushed open the door.
"Come inv' he said as he entered;
1.-THE gas jet is over here"
Jennings approached cautiously, fol-
lowed by Finn, and applied match.
The glare Of the gas revealed rather
large room, with a low roof that sloped
downward toward the windos. In the
center of it stood big square rough
looking table, on which was a jumbled,
overlooking heap Of writing paper, pa
pers written on, odds and ends, blot
tiers and envelopes, used and unused.
Growing the head was an old clay
pipe A writing pad, pen and ink bot
tie lay in a small clear space near the
edge Of the table. A hard-looking. mar
row bed stood off in a corner. Two
chairs were standing on the top of a
dilapidated trunk. A small of stove
with frying pan and other cooking
utensils lay upon the Washstand. Dust
was everywhere.
Boys, make yourselves at home"
said Karl. '"This is my natal spot IT,
an intellectual sense. Here is where /
wrote The Problem
'That was a rather odd idea of Mrs.
Acknowledgements to let this room and
to let things remain in it exactly as you
left them," remarked Jennings, who
had carefully busted one of the chairs
with an old newspaper. He sat upon
it straddlewlse, his elbows leaning
upon the back.
''She was good to me-" said the writer
softly. ''You know, one night two
years ago, I left this garrett suddenly to
60 with Victor Speer to Boston. When
l had been there few days things all
at once came my way. AS you know,
THE Problem made an instantaneous
hit, and a certain publisher advanced
me big sum Of money. Afterward,
when I came back to my town and
called upon Mrs. Lockwood to pay her
what owed her, somehow felt re-
luctance to coming up to this ROOM I
had taken my finished manuscripts
with me when I left for Boston with
Victor. OF course I had no idea that
Mrs. Lockwood intended to keep this
room empty. I must make it up to her.
but, boys, no money can ever repay my
indebtedness to her. - 49,.
"You used to do your own cooking, I
see," remarked Jennings.
yes, 1 used to get my groceries at
the little delicatessen shop next door
Blenau gave me credit with the limit at
81, and whenever got a microscopic
check, which was seldom, would pay
up and start afresh. I got the most
miserable prices for my stuff Seven
dollars and half I remember getting
for Christmas story, which took me
AUX AdyS " WIlLc. LOU KNOW i was
always slow, careful workman.
'The lowest laborer in the street was
better paid for his work than I was"
continued Karl, land I believe that
some Of the things that 7 wrote for
starvation pay will live after I am
fone. I realized all the hardship and
Suffering that poor Henri Murger en-
dured, and maybe more.
ST J1cad tn uondor, oh o,,+ +1,o +o,r~ -
dead Of night thinking. I hated the
daytime, for the noise and hustle dis
turbed and irritated me. And long
after midnight, when tired and worn
out by aimless wandering. terrible fan
cies would assail me as I entered the
house. It was only by an exercise of
the sternest courage that I could pre-
vent myself from shrieking out as T
mounted the stairs. My mind was clear
and acutely analytical, and still very
strange, Internal things whirled around
me. Though I could not actually see
them, knew what they were like. I
could feel myself pushing my way
through them"
What were they like?" asked Finn,
who was standing near the table.
'Oh, they were things so unspeaka-
bic that my mind blanches as 1 recall
them. I will not say what they were
like. But for a cold, deliberate effort
Of the will would have gone violently
mad.
zone night I went with Murphy to
the theater to see Zola's gruesome
Therese Rauin,' and the great, awful
eyes of the paralyzed woman in the
last act haunted me in this room for
months. Oh, they were frightful, those
eyes! They stared at me from the roof
and the walks. Yes, boys, these were
some of the things that bothered me
when lived here, and whenever hun
ger and desolation made me feel that
the game was nearly up T used to open
and read little tattered book that lay
over there on the writing table. It told
OF the life Of Balsac."
A softness had come into the writer's
face. It was a face-powerful, with
blue, piercing eyes-the face Of fight
er, of one who had endured.
Reading it," he continued, "somehow
put a new heart into me. It was a
brave mournful message from the past.
as If the ghost Of a grand gladiator
arose and babe me to fight to the death
In the arena with stout heaft. All,
dear Balsac."
"You are little morbid tonight. old
boy" said Jennings "Anyhow. there's