Montpelier examiner. [volume] (Montpelier, Idaho) 1895-1937, 1911-01-27

Wa LAG ASW Q0OPAG VIM va
Dzz MI themselves had value
VIZ NJ enough to know o. Henry
W well, perhaps loved him
4 -, best when, with this whim-
GEA Msicel depreciation, he would
&sT excuse his own penetrat-
ing humor or generosities that were
super-Quixotic. 1t was his personal
password, his humorous apologize, and
his saying it always seemed to break
one of the alabaster boxes Of life's per-
fume and difruse a warm essence OF
good feeling, enough to make the
hearer inwardly beam with some new
sontentment. He did not use 1t as an
affectation or stunt" such as liter
airy men of a cheaper grain go In for;
he had none of those traits. Never
was there .purer individuality than
that of Sydney Porter. whom America
claimed as the greatest living short
story writer with the exception OF
Rudyard Kipling.
It has been said Of him that he was
quiet, reserved, modest, fleeing from
the limelight" All that he was, but
more: the Quietness was the immeas-
q
tive consciousness. the modesty was
selfless yet beautifully sane perception
OF perspectives, and he was too real,
too busy observing, gathering and ap-
plying real life to be interested In
artificialties he could detect In mo-
ment. An English member Of nobil-
ity 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
lionizing.
I'm just a poor boy from the coun-
tryl"
That stirred depths in the few. for
they knew that with all the sharpness
of his genius, with all his power and
consummate Bohemianism, his was a
heart as sensitive. as questing as a
child's.
O. Henry knew his world, read its
closest secrets SO simply that his SUI
nreme knowledge of human nature of
itself formed that aspect OF reserve
which appeared even mysterious to
Iooser minds. He allowed himself
littla affectations where his feeling
for some things was concerned. Music
he claimed to detest. What do you
think of itg' some one asked him of
a lovely. minor-keyed song. Sounds
i've a wagon going down HILL" was
his cheerful reply. Music" he con-
iinued. In answer to a protest.
doesn't mean anything. It's the low.
nst of arts. 1t plays upon the emo
tons; 1t doesn't get at the brain.
would give all the operas ever harped
for the dull, concrete roar of one block
nf New York. That's music" But
later he said to friend. triie wist-
fully: you know | talk lot about
hating it; but / don't" AS a matter
of fact. his ear for music was perfect.
w correct, and his taste fine, even
though he did insist that Expert.
ence." of Hattie Williams fame, was
the prettiest tune ever written. TITS
got a trip and Tilt that takes me, =
be said. But the suggestion of the
name doubtless sang to him. too.
Devastation of Nature was another
of his personally conducted satires
and he carried into daily converse the
delicious distaste expressed In his
neurasthenic adventures. THE nexl
morning / went out on the porch and
looked at the mountains There were
forty-seven of them in sight, / shud
dered !"
How do you like 1t down here?"
asked him when | called at the "bis
neighborless cottage surrounded by 6
hundred mountains" where he was
resting and taking exercise"
well" he answered In that low