The San Francisco call., 1906-05-27

models intensely, and in his Christ
! Preaching from the Waters his 'Zeuxis
at Crotona and Hnany other pictures
there are several Very faithful portraits
of me. while there is no doubt that his
brilliant pictures of ancient Egypt first
sowed those seeds in my mind which
brought forth BY the Gods Beloved
While studying art 1 met my future
husband. Montagu Barstow, already
then a weil-known black and white and
water-color artist. For few years after
my marriage / Joined him in doing num-
| berless illustrations for books and maya
zines.
1T was less than six years ago that
L first discovered-quite by accident
that / had any talent for writing. The
story of how this happened is so COM
monplace that it becomes quaint from its
very simplicity. My husband and my
self were house hunting at that time,
and in the interval were staying as pay
ing guests with a family whose chief
recreation consisted in writing short
stories which they would read out aloud
to one another or to such of their guests
as would care to hear. One evening,
having heard one of these not very bril-
liant stories read. 1 suddenly said to
my husband: Now look at these people
who have never been outside their own
little narrow circle; they write stories,
and presumably sometimes get them pub
lished, so why shouldn't /, who have
been all over Europe and have known SO
many people that are worth knowing,
why shouldn't l write stories, tooy'
Why shouldn't you?' was my husband S
simple comment And that was the be-
ginning of my literary career.
Less than six years ago 1 had never
taken up a pen for any other purpose
than to write my letters. Fired by the
example of some simple minded strangers
began to write short stories. The first
few ] ever wrote were at once accepted
by 'Pearson's Magazine. This was en-
courag ging.
Then one day, travelling on the tor
of an omnibus just beyond Westbourne
Park station. over one of the squalid
bridges that cross the canal at that
miserable corner of London 1 looked
down one of the most desoate streets
1 know. the one that skirts the canal al
that point; dark. wretched. lonely; and
| it struck me what a number of mys-
terious and forgotten crimes must have
been perpetrated down thu ill-lit, suualid
portions of mighty London. That brief
thought-it was mere flash, led me to
conceive and evolve those detective
stories told by The Old Man in the
Corner
My first novel was the .Empero.ss
! Candlesticks, but published during the
anxious time of the Boer war, it failed
to make headway against the mass OF
military and political literature of tha,
season. Since the great success of The
Scarlet Pimpernel'' it has been reprinted
and has met with. unqualified success.
The Scarlet Pimperner was first
written as play by my husband and
myself in collaboration = Unlike the
habitual outcry of the unknown dra-
matist, we arc bound to confess that
we had no difficulty in getting our play
read and accepted by the very firs,
management to whom we submitted it
We had no connection with the stage
in any capacity MY husband was ar
artist and / was then only a writer a,
short magazine stories, and with the
exception of an extremely able and KIND
critic knew not soul connected with the
stage.
1T would be difficult for me to name
my favorite authors. / think, on the
whole, though, that the author who mos
appeals too me is Bret Iarte
The Baroness is charming little wo
man, frank and unaffected in manne,
and not a bit spoiled either by her sue.
cess or extraordinary good luck.