The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1900-06-17

The Bard offbe Bakery
''The other night. while raining hard.
Il al srfr

cOpyrisht 1900 By Bailey Willard.

IT was but poor old bard.
Who walked with limpfng feet
mo, walked will never do. I used 1t
IN that second line. Better make it strobe
along the street in that line. Wonder If
they'll send this back. like they did all the
rest. Well. I can't help writing, and they'll
want all they can git OF my poetry by n
by. It's in me. anyways. an it's jest got
10 come out"
old Massey had begun HIS eighth poem
for the week. Verse came very easy to
him. He had a natural gift for 1t. so all
the folk along Mission street said, and he
believed in himself Byron was never
prouder Of his verse than was Royal Mas
sey Of his wonderful quatrains. He al
ways wrote in quatrains. Couplets he
despised.
The bell over the front door of the bak-
cry jingied.
''simsie, go'n see what's wanted" called
the poet
SImsie, girlish. eleven and lightsome,
pushed aside the wrinkled portiere and
went into the shop. Soon she tripped back
and chirped:
Its gen1'man. all, awfully stylish; an
he wants to see you. pop. He don't want
10 buy nothin'-jus wants TO see you
SHOW him in" said the poet. in a voice
loud enough to be distinctly caught by the
caller. What the caller did not catch was
the magnificent wave of the hand that ac-
companied the command.
Bruce Poston, the star reporter OF the
Herald. walked into the back room ma
Jestically. He was only twenty-six, but
he had already seen all of life that was
worth seeing. and. blase cynic that he was.
the sight of the old poet, whose long gray
hair hung down 10 his paper while he
bent over the table and wrote. moved him
not in the least.
THAT old chaps head might make a
good half-tone." was all that Massey sug-
gested TO him. at first sight. Bruce had
expected the occupants of the room TO be
awed by him and his clothes. These PRO
letarfats." as he wrote OF them, were gen.
orally so impressed.
I'm from the Herald" announced the
star reporter
Have they, they have" The old
mans voice shook like cello trill. Have
they -?'
Have they what?" asked Bruce.
Have they sent you to say they've ac-
copied my poem-the one on the 'rain?'
They've got IT, you know"
Now Bruce had come to write up the
old man as "The Bard of the Bakery"
The Sunday editor had thought that he
might have a good two-column story of
him.
well, may be able to use some of your
poetry" said the reporter. He did not
say how he would use 1t. He had thought
TO make a slashing good article on how
the Bard OF the Bakery wrote his verse.
lie was to be very clever story, and there
could be no end of fun in 1t. He had come
to see the poet because he wanted to get
material for a description OF the place
where he wrote, and he had thought he
would talk freer there.
You are engaged upon a poem now,
aren't your asked Poston.
yes: I've got one verse wrote and the
first line of the second. think there'll be
twelve altogether" The old mans voice
continued to shake. He was tremendously
excited. He felt that fame was coming at
last.
''Oh. n he's got a whole box full of beau
tiful verses all written out They're in the
closet" 1t was Simsie who spoke. 'Sit
down n I'll git 'em for you. You can read
him"
She ran to get the box 1t was a great
green affair that had held three dozen
fancy Easter eggs. She laid II on the
table before Poston.
That's good" said he. But let's see
what you're working on now. That ought
TO be the best. you know"
"P'raps It's goin' to be about The Lit
An m
be very pathetic"
He passed the lines he had written to
Poston. who read them. with professional
interest, which was quite another thing
from the interest he felt bound to affect in
the presence Of the poet.
1.-The other night. while raining hard
passed along Good enought' he said
TO himself There's a whole lot in the old
man. He's 20 end of fun"
do you like the lines? Do they begin
too pathetic all at once?" asked the bard.
"Oh, no-not a bit too pathetic" Poston
replied. Now" he thought, I'll see the
machinery run and hear it creak." He
passed the paper back to Massey. Just go
ahead and write off the rest"
Although he trembled all over and his
pen made strange, jerky movements, the
pOel went at the BFlHu anu the SccOHu
Quatrain was soon finished.
Why said. Poston, who had to say
something, you've got a natural gift for
poetry"
That's what they all say" replied the
old man. with a pride that was protrusive
and eloquent. That's what they all say
a natral gift
I'll just look about. bit while you fin
ish up the other ten stanzas." said Poston.
He was anxious to get the descriptive stuff,
the setting of the story. without which II
would be no better than common reporter
work. which he abhorred.
IN show you the bakery" said Simsie.
leading the way toward the front and into
the shop. "Of course. we don't bake any
bread ourselves. IL comes in twicet day.
mornin' and afternoon. an the cakes, an
snaps. an doughnuts. Now, here's the
showcase. The candy man comes every
two weeks
The showcase was a dull little affair.
but il evidently seemed bright enough to
Simsie
Sometimes it's amos full" she assev-
Grated, but the school children come in