The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1905-08-17


age it's because he's made financial
failure. 1 began this way because I
liked it, and now 1 can't get away"
Lindsay established himself in
smaller room on the same floor of the
house, where he could have the benefit
of his friends counsel and the use Of
his typewriter, and he spent the rest Of
the afternoon in unpacking and set
Ting himself. Russell was writing
hard and made no appearance till even
ing, when he came in to take Lindsay
out to dinner
well go to Zinfandels place" he
said. ITS cheap; it's got as much Bo-
hemian color as anywhere, and you'll
probably see some men there whom it
will be useful to know"
The big basement restaurant was
full of men when they arrived, the Gig
arctic smoke was already curling up
and there was a rattle of dishes and
conversation.
"Ah, there's McGann" exclaimed
Russell, gesticulating to a late conner.
who nodded over the intervening heads
and made his way to a seat ut their
table. Lindsay had heard Of him as
the editor Of the Gray Leaf, the apos-
tie of symbolism in unsymbolic New
York
Lindsay felt a little shy about join
ing in the conversation that followed,
most of which was upon men and To-
cal literary matters beyond his knowI-
edge Anxious to say scratching he
caught at the first name be recog-
niZed.
Isn't that the man who has just
come out with a new version of Omar,
in hendecasyllabics or something's"
"Ah, yes" said Russell. The wild
ass stamps DER his head, but cannot
break his sleep But he can do bully
translation sometimes. Did you see
his version of La Citta Mortar"
"D'Annunzio's isn't it? No. l don't
read D'AnnunZio. l am unable to see
why moral and physical perversion and
disease should pose as literature.
even
SSH interrupted Russell You
must not say those things to McGann.
He won't let you contribute to his
magazine"
It's the old questlon-art and
ethics" Mccain observed YEARLY.
But that was no merely abstract
question to Lindsay. He had thought
upon it to exhaustion. The justffica-
ton Of his whole conduct of life hung
upon its answer, and be entered upon
a statement of the necessary and es-
sential morality of art and, as a corol-
larry, of the artist. 1t was not particu-
larry original, and it was colored with
the peculiar crudity of the man who
believed in all his convictions.
Nobody seemed inclined to pursue
the subject any further when he
stopped but Lindsay, flushed with his
discourse, joined largely in the succeed
ing talk, attempted epigrams and tried
TO show that he was not the raw out
slider he might appear
Lindsay could not sleep for hours
after he went to bed. Physical fatigue.
the novelty of his late experiences, the
last upon the real struggle Of his life.
excited his overtaXed nerves, and there
was depressing undercurrent of
alarm at the completely and speed of
the strange currents upon which he
had cast himself
Russell had advised him to loaf
about for a few days till he should be-
gin to feel at home, and next day he
loafed asSiduOusly-up and down
Broadway from Madison square to
the Battery, along the water front and
in that amazing whirlpool that swirls
daily round the placid tower of Trinity
church. He was not much refreshed
| thereby. The turmoil of conflicting
energies stunned his nervous system
and hammered into his soul the sense
of the terrific speed of the race for
existence here where the race was to
the strong. The idea of failure over
took him with a species of terror He
seemed to see himself falling beneath
an avalanche of he knew not what
| filthy and abOminable but all but ire
sistible forces. He had not made much
progress toward feeling at home, but
he began to experience a restless de-
sire to be at work without further
waste of the precious time
He declined to go to Zinfandel's that
night. SO Russell went alone, and,
meeting McGann at the door, they went
in together.
where's your friend?" inquired the
editor. Il like a man with convictions.
Does not his presence make you feel
like the idlest of decorative objects-a
mere flower, little vioet?"
I'll tell you what it does do, Nc
Gann-it makes me madr calculated
Russell, sitting up and forgetting his
soup. You and Lindsay are my old
est friends, l suppose, and l wouldn't
tell this to any one else, but, by Jove,
it's worth telling. He and were in the
same class at Yale, and everybody
thought there was no end to his genius.
Oh, | know what college reputation
Is! But tell you he turned out a story
Or two and some poems that the best
man living mightn't have been asham-
I'd to sign. He had things in the best
magazines, and his style had just that