The Somerset reporter., 1899-02-23

cut off and his expenses are increased,
and very soon we were brought face To
face with the problem of how to live on
nothing week. Still l worked on.
sandwiching in sketches and stories
enough to keep us going between the
acts of my play, until it seemed as If
the pen were constantly in my hand
and my brain was in whirl We were
never reduced to actual want, nor even
thanks to the kindness of our cred
! itors to public humiliation, but for
the first time since my marriage was
compelled to renew acquaintance with
the pawnbrokers and my pride was
humbled forever
Worse still was the constant worry
and care for our little one. We could
not afford to hire nurse. so the wife
and | took turns in standing watch over
her. Baby had just reached the age
when she was learning to lisp our
names, and she chung to US with that
blind confidence of childhood which
tugs at human heartstrings stronger
than anything | know on earth Then
we tasted the bitter anguish of seeing
our little darling, whom we had learned
to love so, fade and wither before our
eyes like tender flower, and we could
not help her.
Il was constantly tormented by the
fear that lack Of ready money was de
priying my child of some relief or lux
ury that might bring her back to health,
so, when about this time | received an
! fTar ,,f hor | ia
| point of accepting it. But my wife for
babe me. She insisted upon my finish
ing the play which she felt certain
would bring me fame and fortune Tn
hesitatingly she sacrificed her baby upon
the altar of my ambition and II &c
cepted that awful sacrifice.
Critics say that my play bristles
with wit and epigram; that its humor
is irresistible and its situations simply
CONFUSING. Yet | often wonder as
watch the people laughing at and ap-
plauding the performance how it would
affect them if they knew that those
lines were written by the bedside of my
dying baby, in the still, solemn hours
of the night, while my dear, devoted
little wife slept the sleep of the utterly
exhausted Would they laugh if they
knew that between those laughable lines
| often paused to soothe my baby fe-
vered brow and wet her parched lips
Some of those side splitting scenes We're
written with my little one in my arms
and a heavier weight than her frail lit
tie form on my heart Ii would have
been a tragedy had | written us felt
Then in the midst Of rehearsals the
hurry. worry and manifold vexations
incident to staging new play. the pic
ture of that pallid little face on the pill
low. with the tired, fearful one of my
wife bending over it, would come be
tween me and the stage, and those
laugh provoking speeches sounded like
ribald mockeries to my ears How will
ingly would have forfeited even the
certainty of success to bring the glow
of health and happiness back to those
two loved faces.
ION the night of the first perform
ance there WAS no one to respond to the
calls for the author | was sitting by
the bed of my baby. watching her little
life flicker and 90 out even at the hour
when my fame and fortune were born.
And were they to increase thousand
fold they could never blot out the bitter
memory of that night. 1t was part of
the price of success, and it can never be
all paid on this earth.
Holden passed, and there We're tears
in his eyes.
Pardon me for paining You, old fell
low, he resumed but | must talk to
some one The little wife never refers
to our lost darling before me if she can
help it, for she fears to pain me the
more and for the same reason | refrain
from speaking Of it to her. But | can
see in her thin, pale face and tear drain
ed eyes the same thought that is con
stantly torturing me-if fortune had
but come little sooner. might it not
have saved our babys life. for if that
was in truth the price of success it was
all too dear Willard Holcomb IN
Washington Post,
Dress Goods Named For Towns