Little Falls weekly transcript. (Little Falls, Morrison Co., Minn.) 1894-19??, 1899-07-07
A FRESH
START.


of war, greet was tho flutter in the Jour-
nalistio world. Ambitious youngsters
gazed lovingly at the revolvers in the
pawnbrokers' window and were sagacious
on the subject Of timed meat.
Proprietors and editors laid their heads
together in the inner places of the great
newspaper offices and talked with one eye
on the enormous outlay service of war
news warranted to heat oil rivals would
involve and tho other on an immense in
crease in circulation.
"Now, then," said the shirt sleeved.
black haired waitor of Brain street coffee
house, "you can't do that ERE, mister"
He addressed his customer, who, having
long ago disposed of his mug of Cocoa
had laid his head on his arms on the we'll
scru bbed wooden table and apparently
fallen asleep. "You ave been ere hour
you know, and we can't ave the place
turned into dosshouse."
The customer, without word, 1neekly
as dog might, rose to his feet and drag
ged himself to the door. The building
opposite the coffee house was blazing with
light. The windows, which were casting
a yellow glare on the haggard face of the
awakened sleeper, were those of The
Dawn, the most live and progressive Of
London 8 daily papers. Tho huge bills or
boards outside the building bore the word,
In fat, black letters: sis 1t War? Special
Interviews" Tho man who looked up at
the glittering windows had been the first
editor Of The Dawn. His name was Brad
Icy Brent. The clothes he wore at that
moment were barely respectable, and he
had dined on cocoa and slice Of bread
and butter in the coffee house. TO use the
Nf0 If OF fri
bradley Brent has thrown away more
chances than any one ever knew. If he
bad kept straight, there's nothing he
mightn't have done. Now, think the
most merciful thing would be to give him
as much whisky as will enable him to
drink himself to death quickly and COM
fortably."
Terrible words to be the epitaph Of ono
Of the brightest intellects that ever mace
itself part Of London's literary life, but
every syllable no more than TRUTH 1t is
O familiar story; has been and will be
Sold of scores of others besides Bradley
Brent. To trace his degradation step by
step would be long and painful task. A
brilliant and successful man does not be-
come u wreck except by the easiest stages.
Those who have the use of his talents
are not willing to relinquish their power
full aid, SO fresh starts innumerable were
provided for the use of the ex-editor of
The Dawn. 1u vain; his terrible demon
had him fast in his grip.
In the lives of such as Brent there are
three stages. At first the world gives its
verdict, ''an exceedingly able man."
Then comes: "What an exceedingly able
man! What a pity he drinksp' And the
victim Is already some distance on the
way. But when the sentences are reversed
and the phrase runs: "What a pity he
drinksl An exceedingly able manP' then
let him abandon hope, for soon ability
will cease to take any part in his terrible
comedy.
Brent still lifting his haggard face to
the lighted windows, thrust his hand into
his pocket. His exploring fingers touched
four coins.
"Threepence halfpenny," he muttered
II simply can't sleep on the bridge to-
night. The wind of the river cuts me to
the bone. wonder If Fraser would'-
He stepped into the vestibule and from
the doorkeeper obtained a pencil and a
scrap of paper for the purpose Of writing q
uote to Fraser, now news editor Of The
Dawn, but In days gone by q young re-
porter taking his orders from g subordi-
nate Of Brent, editor in chief. The door
keeper, sitting behind his little window
marked Enquiries" took the note and
sent 1t rafting up a little shaft In the wall.
Two young reporters stopped to light
their cigarettes as he stood there, and one
Of them said the Transylvanian smbassa-
dor, Count Goustovitch, had been cioseted
for three hours with the premier that
evening, had left visibly agitated and az
pale as death and had been driven furious
ly home.
IL should have liked to have been con.
necte1 with that room by telephone"
laughingly remarked one of the youthA
eyes,: re3oined the other, "or had .
photograph hidden under tho table
Az they passed out q crop haired boy
came whistling down the stairs and thrust
something into Rrent's hand. The en-.
velope contained . coin and a note:
send what yousask this time, a. you arr
% broke, but can't be continually doing Il
Give some one else . chance next time.
Briskly, almost gayly, Brent strobe up|
Brain street. The brusquerie Of the news
Of the great fact that supper, bed, break
fast In the morning-of a'sort-lay In the
silver coin he had sent.
"I'll Just drink Fraser's health onoe,"
thought Brent as he pushed open the
swinging door Of one Of Brain streets
numerous hostelries.
A few hours later he was IN Brain street,
penniless once more, and as far off lodg.
ing for tho night as ever. Duly he drag.
ged himself up the Qoisy, brilliant west
end. People-wellfed, prosperous looking
peoplo-were Assuring from the doors Of
tho restaurants and hailing cabs to drive
them home to their warm, comfortable |
h-a. The atraat waa all a-elitter VIII