The Montgomery advertiser., 1905-01-28
Our Daily Sbcrt Story

feel my soul floating on into space. I hnished the story at a setting. 1t was better than l had expected. Any one with half an eye couid tell 1t was uncle Gloucester's portrait. called 1t Caliban'.
 T reckon I strutted up and down that dingy room an hour half intox- icated with joy. Then I happened to think of something that gave me an uneasy feeling. I remembered to have read in a newspaper a few days be- fore an article by this MT. Jack Lor- den. who has got half-Nelson on the public, on how he arrived, in which he said, avoid the harsh, the brutal, the unpleasant. If you want to see your work in print For a time my spirits were pretty low. I saw plain enough if I omitted the unpleasant things from Caliban there wouldn't be anything left but skim milk. couldn't afford to follow art for arts sake with starvation lying In wait for me around the next corner and l didn't care what posterity thought about the family name. I wanted Caliban' in print because I needed the money. After pondering over the matter some time l came to the conclusion that Uncle Gloucester was a good sub- ject that I had not handled him with buDlieIy worthy or the prOIeSSlOn. What he needed was to be put in the washtub. scrubbed and run through the wringer, then spread on the grass to bleach. With this in mind l sat down and turned 'Caliban' into a beau tiful story of moral purity, self-sacri- flee and brotherly love, and my uncle stood out like a cameo with his hands folded over his heart and a benign | smile on his lips. I changed the title to the Souls Praise. 1t was a mas- | terptece and no mistake. 'Caliban' seemed cheap and insignificant beside the new production. It is wonderful | now a fellow can take an old reprobate like Uncle Gloucester and maKe nim over into an angel without losing his identity.
 T mailed the story to the Monthly l Eclat', then bought 15-cent cigar and | walked down and looked in the offices | of that publishing house. There was an old wnite-haired gentleman seated at & desk. I wanted to go in and shake his hand and tell him who l was. But I didn't.
 "A week dragged by and had heard nothing from the Monthly | Eclat. My assets had dwindied down to dollar sixty and the manuscript of the Souls Praise upon the success of which my future happiness was staked. One afternoon some one came shambling up the stair and rapped on my door. I kicked over the waste basket, threw open a. few books on the floor. and seating myself at the Ptable began to s:ribble. The rapping was repeated.
 | "Come in,' howled.
 | The door opened and in stepped, not the white-haired gentleman. but my
 uncle, with a sheepish grin on his face and holding in his hand 2 long envel- ope that had been opened.
 ! Is this my nephew, Gloucester?
 he asked.
 This is MT. S. G. Buckstaff,' I re-
 piled with hauteur. sticking a pen be. hind my ear and cooking one foot on l the table.
 This story he said. handing me the manuscript of the Souls Praise,
 I think belongs to you. The editoI neglected to put your street n4.lbeI
 on the envelope and it came to my of
 flee by mistake. I hope you will for.
 give me for having read it.
 1 My heart sank within me- But
 what do you think my uncle did? He
 laid his hand on my shoulder and saidsin a trembling voice: \ "Gloucester,, my boy, you are the
 only member of the family that has
 ever understood me. I'm proud of you
 and want you to take supper with mt because I'm going to make you my
 heir
 He died a month ago and left me
 every cent he had in the world.
 think there is barely time for you to
 read the manuscript of the Souls
 Praise before we go to luncheon"