The Baltimore County union, the Towson news., 1909-11-27
A Human Interest Story,
(From Munsey's Magazine.)


The story was a good one, as even
the managing editor said, written as
only Blake knew how builded OF lit
tie, common. every day words, but in
such fashion that the pathos and
tragedy of the whole hing-the
young widow suddenly made husband
less and poor by disastrous accident,
and now half starving with the child
whose every other Thanksgiving day
had been so happy-went straight
to ones heart and made score OF
readers of the Daily Star reach for
their pocketbooks.
Blake was the best writer on the
paper, although not so good o news
gatherer as some other men on the
staff. He was rarely sent out of the
office except on special occasion
where descriptive writing was wanted
His special tack was to shape other
mems work into the form demanded
by the Star, which was bit yellow
in it's tone, but readable, well writ
ten paper with a decided preference
for human interest stories" s"-records
of great city's daily tragedies, come
dies, love affairs, not to forget its
scandals.
Blake's real ideals clustered about
certain other work-which he filed
and polished and groaned over in lov'
ing, honest labor-at his table in his
up town boarding house, and there
were whispers of Book among his
fellows. He never talked about il
himself. He was a silent man, well
liked by the other reporters because
he had always money to lend chap
and would lend it, too, having no ex.
pensive habits himself except fol
books and he gave that up when he
started work on his own.
1t puzzled those that knew him to
know why he who really seemed made
for ioviality-with his open, good
humored face that always seemed
ready to break into the smile that Sc
rarely illumined twas so serious
and at times so somber. Blake never
gave answer to the question, he never
told about-ah, how could he tell oi
that love romance in the South,
among the pines of his native North
Carolina, of the girl whom he had
loved, and who, he had thought,
loved him, but who disappeared, SO
far as he was concerned, into wedlock
with another man that time when he
lay in the unconsciousness of fever in
Cuba with his regiment No, he
could never tell of that. The war
over, he had drifted North, exchang-
ing the sword for the pen, and now he
was writing human interest" stories
for the Daily Star, and stories and
verses which the magazine EDITORS re-
turned to him-because, said they,
of the uncheerfulness of their tone.
Lost love does not sing in the key OF
laughter.
Blake had been at his desk but a
little while when a messenger boy
staggered into the office carrying a
turkey nearly as big as himself, with
card dangling from one of its claws
inscribed: For Mrs. Mitchell, care
of the Daily STAR and bearing the
name of its donor, who evidently
wished to see printed mention of his
generosity. Four others followed it
in rapid succession. The city editor
swore irritably at first as the legendary
birds of Thanksgiving cheer, accom-
panied soon by other things-little
dresses, a pair of shoes, hat with a
gigantic red plume, and the like
were heaped in more or less pic
turesque profusion about his desk
but, as might be expected, an idea
soon struck him for turning the situa-
tion to advantage for the Daily Star
He called Blake over to his desk.
Get a cab," he told him, and
take this truck over to that woman
and her kid. I'll send photographer
with you. Get good story from the
widow and the little girl, with pictures
of 'em, and of the tenement. It'll
make a good secondary story, and
we'll play it up for tomorrow. You
know what we want
"All right, SIR" said Blake, but he
looked bit embarrassed. He tele'
phoned for the cab and then called up
Brock, the man who had brought in
the tip" for the story. Brock was a
police headquarters man.
Brock" he said, I owe you five
dollars on that widow woman story
of yours.
Mighty glad to hear it p Brock
called back cheerily.
but see here" Blake continued
THE story is straight goods, isn't it I
l played it up pretty stiff, you know
and now have to cart lot of tur'
keys over to the woman and her little
Elsie"
Brooks laughter buzzed in Blake's
ear.
Why, there is no little blue eyed,
golden haired Elsie. At least, | don't
know of any"
do you mean the story is fake p
Blake demanded.
"Oh," said Brock cheerfully, j
guess not-not altogether. A COP
told me about the woman, and when
l tried to tell you about it over the