The Washington times. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1902-1939, 1903-02-08

xE HAVE all lead with pleas
w ure that very artistic tale,
' THE Romance Of a Poor
! Young Man" Poverty in story is
very picturesque; poverty in real
life-ah. we'll. one must experience it to
know what it really is.
write this as the first realizing
sense comes upon me Of what 1t means
TO be poor. It is now three months
since I lost my position had lived uP
to the last penny OF my salary-lived
luxuriously. in fact. Ny rooms were as
smart and as artistic as any in town.
was very much in the cultivated bohe-
mian set. and one might always meet at
my apartment, not the greatest, perhaps.
but those on the road TO greatness in
the field of art and letters. was known
to dabble in literary work myself, and
my small achievements, having some
glitter about them, were very much
overrated by everyone except he editors
to whom I tried 20 sell them, generally
without Success
have managed to keep ny rooms by
selling some valuable seerfptns and
other jewelry ! owned. Ny friends gen
orally suppose me to have az income. OF
at least to be making good deal with
my pen; and since I do not vtsibly cur
tail my expenses, 1t is a reasonable sup
position Ny economies have been in The
things which people have not seen. I
have risen late. made coffee in my
rooms, and with it have taken roll
or a biscuit or two. Having breakfasted
so late and so pIentifuIIy, I naturally
take no luncheon. At night I urge my
bohemian tastes as an excuse for dining
at the cheapest Of the table d'hote re-
sorts.
I am frequently asked to dinner by my
men friends, but or course that does not
reduce my expenses, since an unwritten
law makes it necessary for NE TO return
the compliment as soon as possible
After three months Of this. still keep
my spirits. outwardly';; still am able to
say laughingly. when questioned:
"Oh. I don't know whether I shall 90
back to a commercial life or not; bo-
hemia is very fascinating"
Three months! It is becoming a
strain. physical and mental How can
keep my rooms? I have no more jew
eIry to sell. I fear to sell anything
else. lest it should be noticed-and my
position is almost entirely dependent
upon my rooms.
have sold an old etching for enough
to pay my rent for another month. One
of my newspaper outlets was closed to-
day. The editor, who is a good friend
of mine. said: To tell you the truth,
old chap. I have given your column to
poor devil who really needs the
money"
l went away and called at another
newspaper Office. I boldly told the edi-
tor I wanted a position. He laughed as
he said:
"Oh, your pen is too clever for hack
work-you would better stick to special
articles"
HuTrah! have received a check for
a story sold months ago. bed quite
forgotten it. To be sure, it i only q
small amount A few months ago Il
should have spent it for a box Of cigars.
and have thought no more about it; now
I must stretch it TO the utmost, but ar
least I will ask Carlos to dine with me
Cnce- Good, true hearted Carlos! He
wonders why he sees so little of ne
nowadays I tell him I am writing: that
I am doing some serious work. Carlos
old chap, did you but know the truth
did you but know that your friend whose
lighter vein so entertains you is some
times hungry. your heart would ache.
and how you would open you- purse and
insist upon sharing your plenty!
took Carlos 10 dinner last night. We
had a nice little dinner and a bottle o.
wine. 1t made sad hole in my little