The sun., 1901-04-16
A DELAYED FORTUNE.

Arthur Soris Banks, better known to the
reading public of his day as "Eustace Sorts"
married Mona Veronica, third daughter OF
James Morant, Mus. Bac., some time or
ganist of Drulisle cathedral
At that time Banks was an author and
journalist, and also child of promise
Everyone knew that he was going TO do
great things when his youthful brilliant eli.
fervescence had passed off Arthur Sorts
Banks himself knew it. AT that time lie
worked about one day week, when he
found work that felt suited him and
when he did not find it he never worked at
all. As bachelor and bohemian he had
very little use for money.
In the fifth year after his marriage with |
Mona, to whom he was ever devoted, he |
was working seven days a week and some
of the nights as well. He was doing any |
work that offered, and doing it as quickly as |
he could. He had multiplied his income by |
six and his expenses by seven. lie was much |
more journalist than he was an author. |
Therewa no more question OF effervescence, |
and the editors could send his stuff up to the |
printer without bothering to read il first. |
The critics on the rare occasions when they
spoke of Eustace Sorts at all spoke of him
with gentle regret; he had sold his birth. |
facility; he would never do anything more
than quite good hack work now He had
passed out of the will be into the might.
have-been. He was sufficiently happy about
it, when he was not too much in debt He
was honestly devoted to Mona and he would
not, under any consideration, have been
an artist at the price of being Il man. The
idea that Mona should be limited or that
| the babies should lose their high position, in
order TO spare him anything, would merely
have disgusted him. He had by this time
raised his own standard OF comfort and
| spent money more freely than he had done
in the days when, comparatively, lie had
more to spend. The octopus of "A second.
rate social position had its suckers on him
and he gave up any struggle except that
which had for its aim and end the finding
of food for the octopus. Mona would have
checked him, but this perverse ass was
capable of wanting for her what he had
never even thought about for himself
She had been proud of her husband abil.
tiles, and certain yellowing press cuttings
were still cherished by her. She encour.
aged him in the weak luxury Of specializing
4 ON what might not happen if by some lucky
chance he found himself in position when
he could take his own time over his work
and was not dependent on it for his necessi.
ties. There he never doubted. His literary
ideals had never changed though he was
now perforce false to them every day OF his
HE lie saw what was good work. and how
to do it, as well MS ever he did. He even be.
lieved that he had gained something from
experience. Once the necessity of pot boil
ing had vanished he had certainty that he
would quit the ranks of the might -have-been
and put on his wings Mona believed that
too, as she would have believed any good
thing of her husband.
Then the chance came at last, after an
other five years of the struggle 1t came in
two golden months. Banks had happened
by some accident to open a circular As a
rule he weeded out what were obviously cir.
culars before he began to open his letters
This was the circular of minor Germanic
lottery, rotten and fraudulent With cyn.
ical knowledge that he was being swndled
Banks sent for a ticket. As it happened the
lottery had decided to send big prize oven
this side as an advertisement and attraction.
That happens about once in every Ii
years. And Banks got the big prize. The
mist of accounts rendered rolled away: there
were even some judicious investments, and
Banks began to acquire habit, to which foi
years he had been stranger, OF going to
bed before midnight. In the next golden
month Banks venomous and virulent great.
aunt paid tardy tribute to the mortality
returns. For long time Banks had never
heard of her or seen her. Ascribing to an
independent spirit what was really no more
than want of interest, she made her great.
nephew, Arthur Sorts Banks. rich man
After the diamond tiara and the new car.
riage horses, Mona put her foot down. "We
will go on living" she said, ''as we have
always lived. | am much too old to want to
change, but l do want you to do the really
fine thing now"
Banks, as usual, agreed He began to dc
the really fine thing. But there was some
thing missing. He sat and stared at the
paper, and wondered what it was. 1t dawned
on him slowly that it was stimulus to which
he had become accustomed. just as the
eiferent nerves will not actuate the muscles
until the afferent nerves have delivered theil
message, so it seemed that his intellectual
processes refused to respond now to any
thing but the keen necessity of making
-, money, to which they had for so many year,
been used. He merely sat and stared before
him, and for awhile at least nothing wa,
done. BY an effort of will he did at last
finish novel which was to be really good
He knew it was not that The critics knew
that it was heavy and laborcd, and com
pared unfavorably with his journalist,
work, and they said so. The public said lit
tie, and cared less, and they did not buy
that novel.
, Banks has given up all thoughts of writ
ing now. He speaks OF the profession OF au
thorshipwith something almost like disdain
and Mona is acquiring the habit from him
lie also has so much else TO do. Any mar
{ who suggests that Banks is dropping out il
| nlwavs reminlrl of that
e So there the matter stands. His fate drov,
\ him from ta irstrate to the second-ratt
i work. And when fate repented and CAV,
= him his chance to get back to the iirst-rat,
again lie found that he was spoiled for that
and for the second-rate work as well, anC
: that lie had better take an interest in horti
$ culture and exhibit Blenheim orange melons
!. at the local show, where his gardener has re
i Gently received the second prize. And 0
I course the moral of this is that wealth il
: not everything. AT any rate, it should be.
= But 1 rather fancy that see an additiona
moral That in life, as in the pleasing ant
instructive game Of draw poker, it does no
$ so much matter what cards you have al
a when you have them Chicago TimesHer
e ald
:. 100 SOON.
a IN