Santa Fe new Mexican. [volume] (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1898-1951, 1899-02-14

position, yet | hesitated to resign the
latter, for winter was at hand, and we
needed my weekly salary, Then there
was the probability that all my labor
would go for naught, and l would be
left out in the cold, for you know that
in n~ewspaperdom it is easier to resign
a position than to get one, for when "a
man steps out there are always 30 9th
ers ready and anxious to take his place,
many of them just as good and some
considerably cheaper.
But the dear little wife, who never
doubted my success, decided for me.
So | resigned my desk and went to
work with might and main ON my play.
l had scarcely been at it a week before
the baby fell i'll, and then our small
savings began to fly. No one knows
how money can go until his income is
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 a 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 a whirl. We were
never reduced to actual want, nor wen
thanks to the kindness of our cred
itors-to public humiliation, but for
the first time since my marriage l 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 a 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 I know on earth. Then
we tasted the bitter anguish of seeing
u little darling, whom we had learned
to love so, fade and wither before our
eyes like a tender flower, and we could
not help her.
81 was constantly tormented by the
fear that lack of ready money was de-
priving my child of some relief or lux
ury that might bring her back to health,
so, when about this time I received an
offer Of another position, | was on the
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. I'M
hesitatingly she sacrificed her baby upon
the altar Of my ambition, and II ac-
cepted that awful sacrifice.
"Critics say that my play bristles
with wit and epigram; that its humor
is irresistible and it's situations simply
%convulsing. Yet l 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
l often paused to soothe my baby's fe-
vered brow and wet her parched lips?
Some of those side splitting scenes were
written with my little one in my arms
and a heavier weight than her frail lit
tie form on my heart. 1t would have
been a tragedy had I written as l felt.
"Then in the midst of rehearsals the
hurry, worry and manifold vexations
incident to staging a 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 I have forfeited even the
certainty Of success to bring the glow
of health and happiness back to those
two loved faces.
"On the night of the first perform.
ance there was no n to respond to the
calls for the author. I was sitting by /
the bed of my baby, watching her little
life flicker and go out even at the hour
when my fame and fortune were born.
And were they to increase a 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 were tears
in his eyes.
"Pardon me for paining you, old fel-
low" he resumed, "but l 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 I refrain
from speaking of it to her. But I 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 a little sooner, might it not
have saved u baby's life, for if that
was in truth the price Of success it was
all too dear. Willard Holcomb in
Washington Post.