The progressive farmer. [volume] (Winston, N.C.) 1886-1904, 1897-02-16
1T WAS A D WAY.


When the late Henry w. Grady
Yves managing editor of the Atlanta
Constitution he was sometimes vexed
and annoy ed by inexperienced and
over. jealous correspondents who
picked up rumors and sent them in as
items of news.
It was unpleasant to make retrac
tions, and when the correspondent I'm
d~oubtedly acted in good faith they
we're always protected by the paper.
In one instance, however, Mr.. Grady
hardly knew how to act. A man in a
distant part of the State complained
that ne had been mi~srepresented. He
did not ask for a retraction, but wrote
that he would arrive in Atlanta On the
next train, and would shoot the respon-
sible editor of the paper.
A few enquiries in the city among
this mans acquaintance, brought out
the fact that he had q violent temper,
sometimes got drunk, and to just the
of person who commit murder and
then be acquitted on the ground of in
sanity.
Mr.. Grady and his friends felt that
the situation had it's seriou features,
but nobody spoke of appealing to the
police. They do not conduct business
that way down in Georgia.
When would the desperate errive3
This was the question of the hour in
the Office.
The general opinion was that he
would reach the city about midday,
and if he visited the Office al that hour
he would probably find Mr.. Grady
alone on the editorial floor.
One Of the clerks who had heard of
the trouble came upstairs and rendered
his chief q pistol, at the same time
begging him not to be taken unawares
by his enemy.
The journalist took the weapon, re-
fected q moment, and then handed it
back to the young man.
st don't need it." he said. Good
humor is worth more than gunpowder
in this cas- The poor fellow who is
hunting me thinks that he has a griev-
ance, and the matter should be looked
into before there is any fighting"
The day wore on and the newspaper
men soon became absorbed in their
routine duties, and by IL o'clock they
had drifted out in various directions to
get their luncheons.
All except Mr.. Grady. The man
aging editor held the fort, while his
secretary in an adjacent room was
busily engaged with some important
correspondence.
The clock licked away monotonously
and profound quiet prevailed on the
editorial floor.
Suddenly and unsnnounced a big
fellow with a frownipg brow entered
the sanctum.
"Mr. Grady" he blurted out, Il am
here to"
"Glad to see you" interrupted the
other. 81 was thinking of you a mo
ment ago" and the journalist gave his
visitor a cordial handshakeand beamed
upon him with a magnetic smile.
The big fellow wasnot to be captured
in this way. His frown deepened and
he assumed a dignified attitude.
You probably take me for someone
else" ne said sbjfny, Il am"
'Y u are Col. Bill Blackstock, of
Cottonville," replied Grady in a CHEEKY
tone. II never saw you bat once, and
that was at the State fair five years
ago., when your mare won everything
in sight and left the Atlanta boys with
empty pockets. Great Scottsl Colonel,
how you did clean US up that timer
What! Were you there9" asked
Blackstock.
Twas / there7" repeated Grady; II
was not only there, but I sat up all
night condoling with a crowd of boys
who had made the mistake of their
lives in not betting on your mare. 1
had to let some of the boys have money
enough to carry them home. What
are you going to have at the fall races,
Colonel?"
Blackstock looked embarrassed.
"I-well, in fact, l did not know you
were there. This fall I ~propose-but,
Mr.. Grady, I am here"
'Of course you are here" laughed
Grady, land you ought to have found
your way up here long ago. But say,
old fellow, just read this letter, will
you2"
The visitor mechanically took the
letter and read it. Ii referred to a rae
ing matter of great interest, and he