The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1904-06-30
blot For
The Story
By n. y. Phillips
Copyright, 1903. by T. C. Mcclure.

1t was an ideal June morning. A
chorus Of bird songs aroused Cart
right at sunup, and, yawning, he walk
ed to the window. From some prehis-
toric ancestor, who killed his food with
a stone ak while the grass was still wet,
Cartright had inherited a passion for
tramping through the dew. He Dress
ed quickly and started out for brisk
walk.
Cartright was a literary free lance
who was slowly winning his way. He
had awakened that morning with a
feeling known to all who disfigure good
white paper with pen or typewriter
the desire to write and joy in the pow
er to write. A certain great magazine
editor in kindly letter had asked
Cartright for story. His request was
the magic password that admitted one,
clad In purple and fine linen, to the
society Of the truly. elect of the liter
ary world.
But inspiration refused to come at
Cartright's bidding. With an instinc-
tive grasp of the magazines style he
had sketched the principal characters
of his story. There must be two-a
man and woman. The former must
be fine and sincere and honorable, a
gentleman in every respect, who had
made place In the world by his own
efforts. The girl must be sweet and
true, with softly curling hair and wide,
frank, innocent blue eyes. The char
acters must be ideal companions. warm
friends, but not lovers. Cruel circum-
stances and their own ideals of honor
must send them through the world
apart, even though their very souls, as
II alone in the wilderness, cried each
unto the other
He could get no further. Plan as he
would, Cartright could find no reason
to separate the children of his brain.
The characters became almost as real
to him as living personages. A regret
grew up within him at the necessity of
parting them, but to preserve the value
of the story separation was inevitable.
He had been mistaken in his feeling
that morning that the plot was about
to disclose itself, for after break fast
it still eluded him. He could not think
effectively in his study. The free,
wind swept porch and his easy chair
and pipe were not the solaces and aids
to thought he usually found them. In
despair he seized a fishing rod and
started for the river, half mile away.
There, sprawled on grassy bank, the
noon sunshine fiitering through the
trees and dappling the velvety carpet
about him, he set himself anew to his
task. Situation after situation, plot on
plot. passed through his brain, each to
be rejected in turn as impracticable
At the end Of an hour the obstinate
characters were still together and hap
py in their companionship.
A log bridge for the accommoda ton Of
the rare pedestrians and the rarer ve-
hicles crossed the stream a few yards
from where he lay. Squirrels chatter
ed in the trees, birds fitted overhead
Only faint hum from the bustling lit
tie city reached him. 1t was an ideal
spot.
A splash in the water and little cry
awakened Cartright from the reverie In
which he had fallen. A girl was stand
ing on the bridge. Her sailor hat had
blown into the river and was floating
lazily toward him. The fishing rod was
brought into requisition, and moment
later, bowling, he was presenting the
dripping hat to its owner
She was the girl of his story person
iied. He had imagined his heroine
with wavy hair curled softly about her
temples. just as this young lady's did.
She was very young, and in her wide
blue eyes were the fearlessness Of a
child and the soul of woman. Her
lips were scarlet, and in the creamy
cheeks the color came and went. In
slight details perhaps she was differ
ent Yet so quickly did his brain child
merge with the charming personality
before him that on the instant they be-
came one. To Cartright thereafter she
was the "glrl Of the story"
A single glance and she knew him for
gentleman. Soon they were seated
side By side talking like old friends.