New-York tribune., 1910-07-24
0. HENRY -''POOR Boy
Sympathies and Humor of the
Man Who "Never Grew Up."

Man VINO NcVef OreW up.
I'm lust = poor boy from the country"
The few people who Of themselves had
x-a,,1e enough to know o. Henry well. per-
hans loved hin, best when, with this Thfn-
sicaI ,Ieprecation. he would excuse his own
penetrating hum0r OF generosities that
we're s,1per-ouixotic IT was his personal
password. his humorous apologize. and mis-
saving II always seemed TO break one Of
the aIabast.r boxes Of Iife's perfume and
diYuse warm essence of good feeling.
enough to make the hearer inwardly beam
with some new contentment He did not
,rse u as an affectation or stunt. sach
literary men of a cheaper grain go in for;
he had none of those traits Never vas
there lurer individuality than that Of sgd
ney Porter whom America claimed as the
greatest living short story writer with the
exception of Rudyard Kipling-
lt has been said of him that he was
quiet. reserved modest. fleeing from the
IirneIight-'N All that he was. but more: the
quietness was the immeasurable reticence
of a profound. aensitive consciousness, the
modesty was selfess vet beautifully sane
perception Of perspectives. and he was too
real. tco busy observing, gathering and ap
plying real life to be interested IN artificial
ties he could detect in a moment An Eng
lish member Of nobility who recently visited
this country, bringing the power next the
throne with her. asked in vain to meet o.
Henry; he was not to be corralled for lion
izing.
I'm just poor boy from the country
That stirred depths in the few. for they
knew that with all the sharpness of his
genius. with all his power and consumnate
Bohemianism, his was a heart sensitive.
as Questing child's. I've never grown
up he conf1ded to those who knew his
subtleties well enough 10 believe IT. Yet
that little leaven would never have been
suspected under his outward expression Of
perfectly calm reserve IL was only when
life spoke to him unaffectediy that his eyes,
with their odd. deep sea color. would show
intentness of interest.
0. Henry knew his world. read It's closest
secrets so simply that his supreme knowl-
edge of human nature Of itself formed that
aspect of reserve which appeared even
mysterious to Iooser minds He allowed
himself little affectations where his feel
ing for some things was concerned Music
he claimed TO detest- What do YOU think
of it?' some one asked him of . lovely
going down HILL" vas his cheerful reply
Music" he continued. In answer to a pro-
test, doesn't mean anything. It's the low
est of arts II plays upon the emotions; it
doesn't get at the brain would give al
the operas ever harped for the dun. con-
crete roar of one block of New York. That's
music" But later he said TO a friend.
trife wistfully. ''You know I talk lot
oh haiti jt h,,f r
of fact his ear for music was perfectly cor
rect. and his taste fine, even though he did
insist that Experience" of Hattie VIII
Jams fame. was the prettiest tune ever
written It's got trip and Hit that takes
me" he said But the suggestion Of The
name doubtless sang to him, toe
Detestation of Nature was another OF his
personally conducted satires. and he carried
into daily converse the delicious distaste
expressed in his neurasthenic adventures
The next morning went out on the porch
and looked at the mountains. There were
forty-seven of them in sight i shuddered-
How do you like IT down here?' / asked
him when I called at the big neighbOr-
less cottage surrounded by a hundred
mountains" where he was resting and
taking exercise"
Well he answered in that low. apollo
gctic Southern voice. as VIII Irwin calls IT,
1--WE breathed all the air and I've seen all
the scenery and I've got to 9.5s5 in count
ing the trees. and now I'm ready to leave
II the Southern Railroad only ran past the
door I'd De going this evening. Nothing
prevents my leaving except the fact that
am not able to get to the train IL could
only hear the Sixth avenue elevated go
past my window every seven seconds,
believe l could sleep at night. Nature in
this simple form is not for me-. Yet as
We walked dow= the hill to the trolley line
he waved his hand toward the umber CLINT
of bronzed weeds. Nice bit OF color" ne
murmured.
He was always going TO allow me TO in
te-vtew him formally. and once went so far
as to map out list OF questfons-thtngS
in connection with his work he cared TO
talk about. I remember his method Of
working: the knack or what he called the
trick of 1t was one. though he had never
submitted to reporting and
even the now famous Times interview.
he tolu me. was gained from him by the
strategy and connivance of the publishers.
You just write ME up II you want to. aS
you know me- he said at last But who
could do that? Who could gather into
words the subtle depths the infinite under
standing. the great generosities. the cIaS-
steal Bohemianism. the absolute humor the
humanities that went to the
making of him: Though 1 endeavored each
time that / saw him. to be the RoSw ell OF
the moment. the best things escaped is
they always do: the best witticisns ep;-
grams. penetrations. PHILOSOPHERS vanished
before the capturing notebook, leaving here
and there a story. Joke. an Incident yet
pcrvasivcly he impress OF his daily inGn
viduality-fineiy reserved naive. splendidiy
experienced: a calm. comprehending spirit
that turned it's light upon the best and the
happiest In the clouds that make up this
dream of life
New York. ne said, when he returned
from the rest and exercise he couldn't allow
himself. doesn't seem to agree with me as
II Used TO. I'm all run down ply sicaHy and
nave been ordered out OF doors for the
summer. Don't know where I'll goa sea
trip. maybe, or somewhere in the woods
Yet New York" he added In a voice
from a little greater distance. lis all the
and the streams the hills and
purple valleys OF mother earth. All the
daffodils of spring meadows are blooming
New York than In twenty daisied lanes.
Boy from the councy''-but his country
was the world. FLO FIELD