Morris tribune., 1903-10-31
A FAILURE

he was a failure if he had not told
me so himself. Most assuredly he
had not the air of one, for his coats
were always fashionably cut, and his
taste in liqueurs was almost as dell
cate as my own, and he could at
ford to crafty it far more fre-
quently.
Such was the testimony OF ap-
pearance, and so far as | knew his
history it pointed to the same con-
clusion. He had been, / under
stood, a writer, like myself, though
even less successful, and then for
tunate speculations" had enabled
him to retire from calling which
he found more honorable than re-
munerative and to spend his after
moons in playing billiards at the
club.
And yet Everard Deane esteemed
himself a failure. He told me so
emphatically one evening at the
hour when truth "peeps over the
glass edge when dinners done"
''It was all that COMPOUNDED Stock
Exchange" he murmured, gazing
gloomily into a glass of green char
treuse.
1 begged him to accept my cor
dial congratulations. cts better
way to fail than most" said, for |
had known so many who failed upon
the Stock Exchange and lived hap
PLY, drinking champagne and drlV-
ing about in broughams, ever after
ward.
But Everard Deane protested.
81 don't mean what you mean, !"
he said. 81 didn't lose money on
the Stock Exchange. ] made it
lots of it. That is the mischief OF
it. That is precisely why | am a
failure"
He looked gloomier than ever as
he spoke and ordered a second green
chartreuse.
Jerking his head so as to indicate
8 man at the farther end OF the
room-a we'll dressed man, excess
sively bejeweled-with whom half
an hour since he had cordially shak-
en- hands, he whispered:
"That is the man who has been
my evil genius. You know him"
81 think so. It's Morrison Par
ker, the great fnancier, isn't ?"
ct is, and Morrison Parker, the
great fnancier, has been my evil
genius. It's foolish story, but |
sometimes like to tell it after din
ner. a brandy and soda p
l accepted, and when the waiter
had brought the glasses Everard
Deane resumed:
81 was an author, you know-a
young author-with great aims and
high ambitions. | made enough
money to live upon by writing for
the papers, but I looked upon lit
erature not as a trade, but as an
art. | was a member Of the Waste
Paper club, where all of us profess
ed to take the same artistic views
of life and letters and sat up till
the small hours discussing them
through a haze of tobacco smoke
and stea1ning grog. was very hap
by there until the day came when
Morrison Parker joined the club.
He owned newspaper-the' Stock
Exchange Recorder, think he call
ed it-and therefore he was tech
nically qualified. But when he
came and sat up with us in the small
hours he did not talk literature. He
talked finance"
"Yet the two subjects may occa-
sionally have relations with each;
Other" l suggested.
"Precisely. That is the point that
Morrison Parker used to insist upon,'
especially when he had had good
day, and made us drink champagne
with him to celebrate his luck.
why do so many half educated
city men profess to look down on
authors? he would ask. And then
he would answer his own question:
Because there isn't one author in
five hundred who knows how to
make $1,000 a year. That has al
ways been the great reproach Of
letters, from DR.. Johnson's time to
ours. It's high time to put an end
to that reproach. Why don't you
fellows do it p"
l sighed, wishing that I knew
how to put an end to it myself, and
then | asked:
"And did your friend descend
from the general to the particular
and tell you how it could be done ?"
E|He did. He told us all to open
speculative account in Louis
villes."