Gloucester County Democrat., 1903-10-29
CALL OF THE
RED GODS"
BY ELSIE CARMICHAEL
Copyright. 1903. by t. c. Mcclure

The editor leaned back in his chair
and sighed. The roar Of the crowded
street down below rose eternally, wea-
rily. He got up and closed the window.
Then he read the story again.
It brought great breaths of fragrant
air into the stuffy room. He could see
the open meadows and woodlands; the
dashing, overfiowing brooks, where the
trout were rising; the throbbing new
life bursting out into the sunshine.
He felt it all keenly, for he had spent
most Of that happy boyhood of his up
among the hills of Connecticut. Yes,
the busiest editor in New York sat
there dreaming, while below in the
general Office people with important
business were being turned away by
the dozen.
The story was signed simply NJ. B.
Turner, with an address somewhere
up in Connecticut. 81 never saw any
one catch the real spring feeling as
that man does" the editor said to him
self. HE must be good angler and
general sportsman"
Instead of sending the usual printed
slip accepting the article, he picked up
his pen and wrote the following note:
Mr. NJ B. Turner:
Dear Sir-I have just read your manu-
script. THE Cali of the Red Gods" and
like it so much that shall try to make
room for it in the May number, which is
already made up. want to tell you per-
sonally how much have enjoyed reading
it and how it took me back to my boy
hood home. l. too, am an angler by
choice, though an editor by necessity. If
you have other stories should be glad to
read them. Very truly yours.
JOHN MONTEITH.
The editor of the Twentieth Century
was still young and genial, and his
outer shell had not yet hardened.
Then he went back to his work and
forgot the story. But sometimes in
the midst of the rush and confusion of
the great magazine Office there came
a faint, sweet scent of violets and
damp, spring earth, and the roar of
the city streets was confused with the
rush and roar of the brooks overflow
ing with the spring foods. It was then
that the story was uppermost in his
mind.
One or. two other manuscripts came
from the. same writer. but none was
equal to the first
sHe ought to stick to nature mused
the editor one day in a leisure mo-
ment II wish | could see him and
have talk on the subject
In xxrysc%a lff+fo ,af4tf ~. IF44
Turner and told him that when he was
in town he should be glad to have him
call at the Office of the Twentieth Cen
tury In reply came q little typewrit-
ten note thanking him for the invita-
ton. but as NJ. B. Turner was setting
out for long summer trip through
Canada he could not be ID New York
until the early fall. 1t made the Office
seem very hot and stuffy-the thought
of that Canadian trip.
The last of August Monteith man.
aged to get a two weeks vacation
When he returned from the Maine
woods the city looked dirtier and more
dingy than ever. 1t was refreshing to
find note from Mr.. Turner stating
that he would call at the Office on
Wednesday morning at half past 10 if
that would be convenient to the editor.
That was Monteith's busiest day, but
without hesitation he sent cordial
invitation to the young author TO come
at the specified time
When he went to the Office on
Wednesday he had a strange feeling
of expectation which he could not ex-
plain until he remembered that this
was the day that the disciple of Isaak
Walton was to call. Even while die
tating letters to his typewriter his
mind was wandering off to the woods
and fields he loved SO we'll His
thoughts were called back by Miss
Jones and the cessation Of the click Of
the typewriter. 81 did not catch that
last sentence, Mr.. Monteith," she said,
looking up; something about pines
and brook"
Monteith sat up. and flush deep
ened on his face even through his tan.
ooh, noY' he said politely. You must
have misunderstood me. But that viii
do for this morning, Miss Jones, thank
you" He had left word downstairs
that, although he was busy, he would
see Mr.. Turner if he called.
It was quarter before II when the
office boy, with a most perplexed and
worried expression, threw open the
door and announced, Miss Turner"
Monteith rose to his feet. There on
the threshold, hesitating, flushed, stood
a slight girl in trim tailor gown. The
faint perfume of violets foated into
the room.
Il am Miss Turner she said. I'll
really should have told you before. !
only realized It was quite wrong when
they almost refused to let me see you
and would not believe that was the
expected person.
She looked SO much embarrassed
that Monteith recovered himself sooner
than he cOrId have done otherwise in