The age-herald., 1900-05-20
NED BRACE WRITES
 ABOUT MANY THINGS

the New York Ledger. upon reading it, he called to his stenographer, Jim Holiday. Jim, look at this; bet I write the first one of these articles in five minutes, and will get $200 for it. That will be $40 a minute-a good price,
 Immediately he began to walk up and down his office and dictate to his stenogra- pher. He was always a mere boy. When he would run off particularly brilliant and eloquent sentence, he would stop and turn To two of us istting in his office with the remark: What do you think of that? That's good, is it not? But I am losing time" Then he would proceed. In exactly five minutes he finished the first article and was well pleased with it that he began on the second and finished that also in a few minutes. Then turning to us, he said:
 That's $4O0 made in fifteen minutes-the best work of my life" Then taking up his hat, he added: 'I think I am entitled to a game of baseball now,' and off he went to sit on the bleaching board and enjoy the fun. Grady would never sit in the grand stand at a baseball game He said there was no fun in it. People who sat in the grand stand were usually stupid didn't enjoy the game, while the rooters on the bleaching board were those who knew how to appreciate the game, and to see and call attention to the fine points of each player.
 Grady would never have a reporter on the Constitution who was not fond of some out door sport. The first question he would ask young man, applying for a position, was, Do you play baseball or football?" Or Do you belong to an athletic club?' If all three questions were answered in the nega- tive, Grady would immediately say he was sorry, but there were no vacancies on the Constitution. He loved outdoor sports, and he did not believe young men were made out of the right sort Of material who did not enjoy them.
 I remember just a year before MT Grady died he went up to Andersonville, S. C., near the head waters of the Savannah river, to make a speech at a great picnic gathering of the citizens of several coun- ties of Georgia and South Carolina. Ander- sonville is an old place on a bluff of the river, composed of a half dozen ante-bellum residences and two small stores. After his speech there to several thousand people ne Joined party of twenty or thirty who had gotten up a two days outing to go down the river and shoot the rapids. in what are known in this section of the eoun- try as Petersburg boats. They are old fashioned, queer boats some GO feet long about or feet broad and sharp both in
 
 long pole rudder and propelled by poles In the hands of stout negroes by pushing them against the bottom. They are easily guided through rapids and are comparative " sa1e At night We stopped at some point along the shore and camped out llnder the trees. It was in early summer Larry Gantt who is now editor of the Spartan burg, S. C., Herald, and one of the bright est and cleyerest Irishmen in the south, was one of the party The first night we canned a hio T. bank. After cooking a supper over a log Ire MT Grady declared that he had not stolen a watermelon in fifteen years and he was determined to get into somebody's field ana steal one that night. The boat was well loaded with watermelons but MT. Grady insisted that they did not taste half as good as one which was stolen from a patch. He dared Can't to go with him. Gantt volunteered Over the hill they went In the dark and soon found a patch Of large melons. Over the fence tbev chmbed and wandered far into the patch humping the melons as they went along
 fihaiiy each selected a good, large ripe iheioa, ana shouldering them they started pack. Their talking and laughing aroused the old farmer who owned the patch, and out alter them he came, sicking a big cur dog on the despoilers of his watermelon patch. The dog came on a run, barking at every jump. Grady and Can't dropped their melons and made for the fence Just as Grady got the top of the high rail fence the dog caught Can't by the leg of the trousers. Grady, out of all danger. stood on the fence yelling to the dog Sick him, Tige; sick him." Can't, in the meantime, was fighting the dog off, while the old farmer came running through the field and got to them just in time to save Gantt's flesh, though he had lost one en- tire leg of his trousers. Of course, Grady explained the matter, paid the farmer for his watermelons and then carried him down to the camp fire, where he gave him a good supper and entertained him royalty. When it was all over the old farmer de- clared that if he could have such a good time the result he would like to have his watermelon patch robbed every night. Grady was only 39 when he died. He always a boy. He loved boyish games and sports, and with it all he was the greatest editor this country has ever produced.