Los Angeles herald., 1907-08-25


a few weak points which might be strengthened
by a few changes and touches. 1t was good story,
except"
'I can write English, can't II" interrupted Dave.
"I have always told you." said the editor, that
you had style"
"Then the trouble is the"
Same old thing" said Editor Westbrook. "You
work up to your climax like artist. And then
you turn yourself into photographer. don't
know what form of obstinate madness possesses
you, Shack, but that is what you do with every
thing that You write. No, will retract the COM
parison with the photographer. Now and then
photography in spite of its impossible perspective
manages to record feeting glimpse of truth But
you spoil every denouement by those fat drab,
obliterating strokes of your brush that have so
often complained of. If you would rise to the
literary pinnacle of your dramatic scenes, and paint
them in the high colors that art requires the post
man would leave fewer bulky, self-addressed enve-
lopes at your door,"
ooh, iddles and footlights!" cried DAVE de-
risively. you've got that old sawmi drama kink
in your brain yet. When the man with the black
mustache kidnaps golden-haired Bessie you
bound to have the mother kneel and raise her
hands in the spotlight and say: May high heaven
witness that will rest neither night day till
the heartless villain that has stolen child feels
the weight of a mothers vengeance!''
Editor westbrook conceded smile of imper-
vious complacency.
81 think said he, chat in real life the woman
would express herself in those words or in very
similar ones"
mot in six hundred nights run anywhere but
the STAGE" said Dave, hoty. "Ill tell you what
she'd say in real life. She'd say: What! Bessie
led away by a strange man? Good Lord! It's
trouble after another! Get my other hat,
wasn't somebody looking after her, I'd like to
know? For Gods sake get out of my way I'll
never get ready. Not that hat--the brown one
with the velvet bows. Bessie must have been
crazy; she's usually shy of strangers Is that too
much powder? Lordy! How I'm upset.
That's the way she'd talk" continued Dave.
people in real life don't fly into heroics and blank
verse at emotional crises. They simply can't do
1t. If they talk at all such occasions they draw
from the same vocabulary that they use every day,
and mudde up their words and ideas little more.
that's ALL
"Shack," said Editor Westbrook impressively,'
did you pick up the mangled and lifeless form
of child, from under the fender of street-car.
and carry it in your arms and lay it down before
the distracted mother? Did you do that and
listen to the words of grief and despair they
flowed spontaneously from her lips?"
'I never did, said Dave. Ibid you?"
''Wen no." said Editor Westbrook with slight
frown. But can we'll imagine what she would
say"
$50 can L. said DAVE
And now the fitting time had come for Editor
Westbrook to play the oracle and silence his
opinionated contributor. 1t was not for an un-
arrived ctionist to dictate words to be uttered by
the heroes and heroines of the Minerva Magazine,
contrary to the theories of the editor thereof
Cb IA
of life know that every sudden, deep and tragic
emotion in the human heart calls forth an Apostle
concordant, comfortable and proportionate express
ion of feeling. How much of this inevitable accord
between expression and feeling should be attributed
to nature, and how much to the influence of art 1t
would be difficult to say. The sublimely terrible
of the lioness that has been deprived of her
cubs is dramatically as far above her customary
whine and purr as the kingly and transcendent
utterances of Lear above the level of his sene
vaporings. But it is also true that all men and
women have what may be called sub-conscious
dramatic sense that is awakened by a sufficiently
deep and powerful emotion--a sense unconscious1y
acquired from literature and the stage that prompts
them to express those emotions in language be-
fitting their Importance and historionic value''
And. in the name of the seven sacred saddle
blankets of Sagittarius, where did the stage and
literature get the stunt?" asked Dave.
From life,'' answered the editor, triumphantly.
The story writer rose from the bench and gesti-
culated eloquently but dumbly. He was beggared
for words with which to formulate adequately his
dissent
On bench by frowsy loafer opened his
red eyes and perceived that his moral support was
due downtrodden brother
punch him one, jack" he called hoarsey to
Dave. Watts he maxim noise like penny
arcade for amongst gentlemen that comes in the
Square to set and Think"
Editor Westbrook looked at his watch with an
affected show of leisure.
Tell me-" asked Dave, with truculent anxiety,
what especial faults in The Alarum of the Soul
caused you to throw it DOWN."
when Gabriel Murray" said Westbrook "goes