The Birmingham age-herald., 1908-12-27

today. He has written the novel he want ed to write. It Is big story; it is the last of his Alaskan stories, a sequel to-. ''The Barrier" which was a sequel to '"The Spoilers"
 Like all authors" he remarked, "I had to have 'trilogy.' Also, I had to tall the people what happened to Cher ry Malotte. I hope they like her finish" and he grinned a boyish grin at me.
 What's 1t all about?" I asked.
 Salmon fisheries. It's big thing, that business; next biggest thing to lumber on the Pacific coast. And it's typically American, too. My hero and heroine join forces to buck the trust Do they win out?" He polished his finger nails on his coat Sleeve in elephantine play fitness. well, rather!" was his reply.
 What's the name of it?"
 "The Silver Horde It will run serially in a new magazine-be sure you put it's name in the interview because have got some stock in it-Hampton's Broadway Magazine. That's right Then Harpers will bring it out in book form; and then ! I'll get hammer and ehisel and make it into a play. If there's any other way of getting money out of it, I'll do that" He lit his fourth cigar and waited pa tiently for the interview slaughter.
 How did you break into the writing game, anyway" I asked him.
 He yawned neatly. licked an imagin- ary piece of lint off his sleeve. crooked his little finger, crossed his legs, and be- gan:
 "Mine has been hard life. Ahi Yes, yes. You see, am not really an author. No, not really. know I am not an au- thor because authors do not have to carry thigs-you know-on my shoulders logs, trunks, small shlps-coils of rope sledges-sacks of ore. And finally, bricks. Large Illinois bricks. .''
 "One moment" I interrupted. Begin at the beginning of this terrible career, please
 He buttoned his neat blue coat and drowned down upon me-he is six feet | two, and half that across his shoulders
 q was born in 1877. My folks lived on a farm amidst the chilblains of Michigan
 until I had reached the precocious little age of [. The climate was fierce and the grub was worse. There was nothing to
 eat but frozen apples. At this period my father, suddenly discovering that he had frozen the feet off every member of the Beach family, decided quite wisely to move south-as far south as there was room to move. We started for Florida, via the hasty and interesting Mississippi | river.
 | "There were no railroads in our part of Michigan at that time, and if there
 
 nobody thereabouts had enough real mon ey to buy ticket anywhere, and we were shy about offering frozen apples to the conductor in return for transpor- tation So we joined out with fisherman who owned a schooner. He supplied the schooner; we gave him an interest in the Mississippi river. Thus everybody was satisfied There were other MichiganderS on the boat, thousands of them 1t seem ed-so many that was constantly in the way, Being the only child aboard l was hot favorite with that crowd. They couldn't keep their hands off me. l Tell overheard once but somebody mistook me for another passenger and rescued me. It was a great disappointment for all concerned, and it nearly spoiled the trip. "At Chicago, I saw for the first time a man smoking a cigarette. Once before, in Michigan, had seen two cigars which A travelling man had carried with him through that state. At St. Louis, father took me to my first theater. It was a
 minstrel show with a waxworks exhibit on the side; and I must have been over | awed, for frequently my father had to warn me to close my mouth and once he had to pry my knees loose from the neck of the man sitting in front of me. Little author already curious about hu- manity.
 well, we got to Florida, engaged In | the business of growing oranges and sending Rex to school, and froze out down there. We were sorry-it was so much like Michigan. Everybody went broke. This, too, was like Michigan. There was nothing to eat but frozen or anges. So went to Chicago to study I law. Every morning I packed a law book under one arm and an apple and glass of milk under the other and went lawing. All to no avail however; all to no avail. Then I learned to be a football player. q introduced myself to the captain of the Chicago Athletic Association team and said I felt in me the vicious hum ger to be brutal and wear shin guards and have my name in the sporting pa pers and board at training table. He looked me over and felt my bumps then asked me if was a good player. I'm mense,' I assured him with becoming modesty.
 "Where have you playedT he inquired. "I the south,' I answered vaguely.
 "What positionT
 "All of them. blush now at the mem ory It was my first and finest lie. would like to be a good liar but can't make 1t stick I don't know football from an electric belt, but I steeled my self with thoughts of that training ta- ble, and he tried me out. I met the team and played all that season. I got hurt
  thereafter something worse happened to me had sprains, lesions, and compound fractures, but I stuck to that training table, for there were no frozen apples nor frosted oranges on the menu. We won the championship and when the sea- son had closed went to the captain and acknowledged my deceit, for my con- science was water-logged.
 and never saw football game till this
 and never saw football game tillthis | fall said I.
 "So I judged when I saw yau play | he remarked, which went to show me that good lie can't be improved upon. ''Then learned to swim. Record swim ming you know. Every time news | paper man came around to the gym, we would gather by the gentle tankside,
 hold up our index fingers. and say:
 Record, sir? Very well, sir. What kind, | sir?' Then we would dip in and bat out a new record for the waiting representa- | tive of the press.
 Meantime I was reading Blackstone, but I didn't like the plot; there wasn't l any action. How he ever got into the six best sellers I don't know. I put my feet on the desk and read what a lot of I | 4 .1s<.E.A It<w wSrt IN4x.