The Daily Ardmoreite. [volume] (Ardmore, Okla.) 1893-current, 1911-02-05
Near the Wind
By The BARONESS Won HUTTON
Author of "Pam," Pam "Decides,"
Etc. Etc.
Copyright by the Red Book Corpo-
ration)

Biddulph Nettleford leaned back in
his chair. frowned at a spot of ink
on his thumb-nail,, yawned. and then
very slowly, with the physical lazi-
ness produced by prolonged mental
work gathered up the close.y-written
sheets and locked them away in the
big leather box that stood awaiting
them
He had written for three hours
and half and was contented with
his work.
He was one of those writers in
whom many people do not belieV e,
but who nevertheless very pHofitably
eAist; who write irregularly, as
something unnamed within them
chooses to dictate.
No regular two hours after break
fast, three after lunch, for him; but
long wastes of sterile idleness when
the very sight of pen turned him
nearly sick, when his Imagination
for the pen, and away he started
writing for hours without moving
from his place, his thin yellow hand
rushing over the paper as if propell-
ed by electricity.
For when he read the work done
In this way he discovered, almost
as If they had been written by
someone else, the maety good things,
the cynical flashes of wit, and the
wisdom which, combined and woven
together by one of the deftest brains
Of our day. made his books
the masterpieces they undoubtedly
were.
THE writing condition" he used
to say, ''is for me only to be com.
pared to state of hypnotism. Once
started, | really hardly know what
| write, and never, until / read it
over. how l have expressed it,
But this he said, being in way
wise man. only to one or two
people. for he knew the scornful
disbelief of the average mind for
what it does not understand.
iNettlefolds books being what they
are, are widely read and much dis.
cussed. French people consider them
the nearest thing in English litera-
ture to the Gallo ideal; Germany
calls them-and rightly-hoch-mod.
ern; Spaniards and Danes chuckle
over them in Spanish and Danish
Now this means fame, but Mr.
Podsnap does not at all approve of
them.
The young person must not read
them, for they are not written for
her, and all Podsnappia rolls its eyes
with horror when "The Beginning of
the End" Or "He Who viii Not
When He May" Or "Mr. Truscott"
are mentioned.
The book on which INettlefold was
working that November was called
Near the Wind" and as he mental
ly reviewed the chapters he had just
written-meanwbile daintily rubbing
the ink-spot from his thumb with
bit OF pumice-stone, and subsequently
making what his trans-channel admir-
ers call ''un bout de toilette"-the
great man smiled at the thought of
poor Podsnappia.
1t was very near the wind indeed,
the new book, but so deliciously
well done that positive shiver of
joy went down his spine as he care
fully brushed his thin hair and
thought about that last chapter.
Then, still smiling, he went down
stairs to the library, where he knew
that alteration and tea awaited him.
His hostess, LADY Lawless, was
a great comfort to him. She knew
how to make him very comfortable
in her thick-walled old house, and
cannily, in her mediocre brain. she
had long since come to the conclu-
sion that writer's do not, necessarily.
require subtle literary conversations
as a merssal nourishment-.his very
common mistake frequently leads
otherwise quite harmless and pleas
ant women into a perfect labyrinth
of idiocy-so she allowed him to
talk of whatever he liked, which