The Denison review. [volume] (Denison, Iowa) 1867-current, 1900-06-12

Nobody looks or speaks or moves in the
least like her. When she walks along
the street, all the peoples heads go
round as if they were cogwheels in a
piece of machinery.
"Of course as to her money!" said
he, Its very unfortunate."'
l laughed.
"You know what l mean,'' he protest
ed. people will say that l am seeking
money, whereas heaven knows that if
she We're as poor as-as l am. by lingo.
1t wouldn't make the slightest differ
ence!'
People will lie, whatever you do"
replied. $50 don't let that worry you.
Money is a good thing, and I'm glad
you're to have some"
81 wonder how it will seemY" he said,
and then cautiously, "aush!"
A shadow appeared upon the ground
glass panel of the door. A hand was
LAID upon the knob vainly ana then
came a loud. aggressive rap.
Its Crowley" whispered Blake.
Hes collector for a COMPOUNDED tailor!
See the villain stand there and wait!"
The shadow fell darkly on the door.
obviously Crowley was a person of
magnificent proportions.
;" used to be a good deal afraid of
him." whispered Blake. He's an Of
fensive beggar. with a voice so careful
~ cultivated that he can dun u man on
the ninth floor and make every word
audible to the engineer in the subcellar.
But those beasts won't bother me much
longer Why. my dear fellow, with
this new happiness, this tremendous
inspiration. TO help me, I'll write
enough stuff in the next three months
to pay every debt and live like a prince
besides.'
GO right ahead and do it. then" said
L. Don't waste precious time talking
to me. I'll read a magazine till Crow
ley's feet get tired, and then I'll slip
out"
Presently l heard his pen scratching
on the paper. and it was pleasant to
think that tile words he was writing in
the first flush of his happiness might
live for centuries in the hearts of men.
| felt proud to be present on such an
occasion.
1t may have been two hours later
when | rose to go. Crowley's shadow
had vanished. Blake,/ with the tip of
his penholder pressed against his lips,
was looking upward to the ceiling and
through it to the clouds. There was a
fine light in his eyes.
Written much, old man" l said.
NO" he replied. 81 haven't put any
thing on paper yet"
But l thought l heard your pen"
That was while | was writing a lit
tie note to Emily" said he. 81 can't go
to see her this evening. and there were
a few things that l wanted to say"
He folded half a dozen sheets of pa
per and put them into an envelope, up
on which he wrote an address.
Would you mind handing that to the
fellow in the passenger office down
stairs?" said he, giving me the envel-
ope and half a dollar to pay for the
message. THANK you. Goodby. I'm
going to work now"
The last glimpse l had OF him he was
still looking aloft, with the expression
OF a cherub about to sing a new n
On Thursday | looked in upon Blake
again. f., wa drawing little profles
Of Miss Woodruff on a sheet of paper.
for Blake is clever with the pencil as
we'll as with the pen.
Glow does the story come along?"
asked.
What story?" he demanded.
"The masterpiece you began when |
was here last" | replied.
"Oh, that be hanged!" he exclaimed.
1T was rot. l threw it away"
Haven't you started another"
Wei, I've been getting my ideas to.
gether," said he. ''There are one or
two big things that l may start upon
when l can get hold of them by the
right end"
Then we had a nice long talk about
Miss Woodruff, and, having decided in
the course of about two hours that she
was an Incompatible angel, we ad
journed the meeting and went out to
play a game of billiards.
Sunday forenoon Blake and l took a
bicycle ride together. l had never seen
him so happy or so full of fine fancies.
He told me that he had begun a story
and asked me to come to his den the
next day and see what l thought of the
Introductory chapter.
couldn't call on Monday, but
found the time Tuesday afternoon.
Blake had written about 1000 words
substantially as they were to stand in
the finished story, and l want to say
here in strict confidence that they were
far from good.
The style was quite different from
Blake's ordinary. AS a rule, when he
attacks literature he cuts off a piece
with a battleax and presents it to the
public on the end Of a spear. That's
what | have always liked about his
work. d
told him frankly that If the begin
ming Of the new story gave any idea of
what 1t was to be like throughout he
had made a mistake.
"sentimentalism isn't your forte"
said /.
This isn't sentimentality. It's genu-
eno foolto~N nnSd ho And T. ,s D-o-