The Durham recorder. [volume] (Durham, N.C.) 1879-19??, 1911-10-13
LITERARY NOTES.

There is one novelist who is firmly
convinced that the smoking room OF
a transatlantic steamer is the worst
place In the world in which to write
a novel. The novelist is Harold
hfacGrath, anthor Of The Man on the
Box, The Lure OF the Mask and a
long list of other best-sellers. Mr..
MacGrath returned from Europe
last spring on the Lusitania. He had
completed a tour OF the world, lin
gering long In Greece, Turkey, Persia
Arabia and India and industriously
iotting down his Impressions of thoSe
mysterious lands with view to con-
yerting their color and charm to his
own literary uses. He filed his
eyes and ears and notebooks and
had embarked happily for New York
when the thing happened.
Three days out from Liverpool.
MacGrath decided to retouch some
Of the preliminary chapters Of the
novel he had eyolved--The Carpet
from Bagdad. He was sitting in the
smoking saloon Of the Lusitiania
busily writing away when gust Of
wind struck his table and the sheeis
of the manuscript few in dozen
directions. The steward helped him
pick them up, and MacGrth gave no
further thought to the matter until
afternoon, when he had 'stroiled up
to watch the wireless" operator at
his work. Among his other bits OF
curious knowledge MacGrath had
picked up an ability to read" the
lsDuttering signals of the wireless
He listened awhile carelessly then
stiffened in attention as he caught
his own name at the end Of long
message.
"MacGrath'. the instrument was
saying. will hold him New York"
The novelist wondered who his
namesake might be, and why the man
should face arrest in New York: but
1t was not until later that he IndeT-
stood. Two days more wore on. and
MacGrath worked away at his mana-
script; but whenever he looked Up
from.his work it was to see certain
foreign-looking gentleman seated
near him. The man got on Mac
Grath's nerves; he followed him all
over the ship. Finally the voyage
drew near its end. The great
steamer entered the lower bay. Mac
Grath was in his stateroom, packing
his hand luggage when a knock at
the door was followed by the APP
lpearance OF the mysterious foreigner,
two husky men in uniform at his
heels.
Your baggage, sir" he demanded
sharply.
MacGrath started in amazement.
The intruder did lot repeat his re-
quest. but began at once to upset the
contents Of the noyelist's bags. Mac
Grath, startled and raging, was for
ed to submission by the burly at
tendants. and the strange visitor
completed search which occupied
an hour and took into consideration
even the lining OF the noyelist's
clothes,
Finally Maccra:h burst out once
again.
do you take me for smugglers'
he demanded.
'vot else?' said his captor. This
is your own writing. yes?" He ex-
tended toward MacGrsth a sheet Of
paper on which the author recognix-
ed his own handwriting. But as
he glanced at is MacGrath broke inso
laugh in which amusement and ex-
ASPIRATION we're mingled. The
sheet OF paper read:
Smuggling is fine art, a keen
sporting proposition, and the con-
sequences of discovery are never
very serious. What's a fine OF a
thousand dollars against the profit
Of many successful excursions into
the port of New York? Nothing,
comparatively. For several yea
now we nave carried on this business
with the utmost sdroitess. Never
have We drawn serious attention.
We have prospefed. Here is a gem
let us say worth on this side thous-
and: over there we sell II for enough
to give US q clean profit of three Of
four hundred. Forty per cent. upon
our jnvetment. That ought to be
enough for any reasonable person. /"
II was a page OF MacGrath's manu-
script Of The Carpet from Bagdad
that had blown from the table and
had not been recovered.
MacGrath finally convinced the
jealous secret-service man of his in
notence; but he has resolved to
write no more novels on shipboard
GOOD ROADS IN THE South