The Sauk Centre herald. (Sauk Centre, Stearns County, Minn.) 1886-current, 1913-07-31


| ing down the road. The house dog
saw him, too. and set up furious
! barking. which died gradually down to
| a whine as the man cane on. and be-
! fore be reached the porch the dog skunk
! away with his tail between his legs.
! The good woman Of the house saw the
! man coming and Involuntary looked
were all indoors.
Etherdge had pen and paper on the
| table, so, after greeting the conner cold
! ly, said he was ready to proceed. He
said he would use a motif that he had
| intended to use during the coming au-
tumn and winter. To this his model
! or his coach or whatever he purpOrted
to be replied that he might userany
motif or any plan he chose. Etheridge
had already written the opening in a
dialogue between his hero and the foil,
who was to bring out the shero's
strength of character. his manliness,
his breadth of soul, his virtue. He
handed it to his coach. who read it and
tossed it back to him contemptuously.
write it over" he said. Il will
start your story for you. Take my die
tation." . =" -:
For an hour Etheridge wrote while
his coach dictated. As the dialogue
between the two characters proceeded
the villain of the story doomed up as a
splendid man, while the hero percepti-
bly, dwindled. Not a word did the hero
speak that was not good. and not q
, word was uttered by the villain that
was not evil, and yet the evil was
beautiful as the blue heavens and the
good sounded like mockery of right
eOuSness.
"Now," said the man who had pro-
duced this effect. Il have given YOU
the pitch. You can sing the song your
self, only to keep you up to the key l
will sit here and chat. with yGu, <as
portrait painters do with those sitting
for them in order to draw their souls
out into their. faces, Proceed:r.. r.
Curious to discover whether this re.
markable master in the art Of writ
ing could infuse genius into him &C
cording to his boast, Etheridge took
his pen and began to write. The
stranger ratified on, at times to him
self, at times to the novelist. 1t seem
ed to the latter that he was sitting in
bower of flowers. each flower ex-
haling it's own delicious perfume. The
light seemed broken into its COM
ponent parts, each color intensified in
beauty. Thoughts-such thoughts as
he had never known before-crowded
in upon his brain. Evil was endowed
with the attributes Of the good; good
was endowed with the attributes Of
the evil. The woman foil, too, was
ravishing. She attempted to draw the
hero from the pure woman he loved,
and. although he resisted her seduc
tons, he seemed despicable that he
did so.
When noon came Etheridge desired
to continue the work. but his coach
declared that he had written enough
for one day and must break of. Ris-
ing. the stranger bowed himself away.
and as he receded Etheridge heard
him talking and chuckling to himself.
growing on the mountain side there
came back the echo of laughter.
The next morning the work was re-
newed under the inspiration of the
coach, and the next and the next. AS
the plot developed it seemed that it
! could have been invented only by Sa-
tan. 1t was in itself a thing Of
ISxI 81
with it and with his characters. When
the clock in the cottage struck II his
coach would go no further. Once after
he had gone Etheridge undertook to
proceed with the work himself, but
when he stopped to read what he had
written he tore the paper into frag
ments. .-.- '1*s@ ~
When the story rounded to its close
it seemed to Etheridge that: .all his
characters had become evil and that
evil was the great desideratum Of shu-
| man existence. The good and the bad
were whiring before him in a merry
| dance. The hero and heroine. who had
passed from the good to the evil. were
! making merry over their fall, and the
others were clapping their hands and
shouting. What a waste of time to
have been good!' And the chief fea-
ture of it was that the author found
| himself sympathizing with vice tri
umphant. Z. -. :. -:
As he was writing the last pages
Etheridge heard the creaking Of a We
hicle and. looking down the road. saw
hearse approaching surrounded by
uncovered mountaineers. CHANGING at
his coach. he saw a sardonic scowl on
his face.
This is DEATH" he said. that men
| so much fear. 1t makes men towards
But shall overcome it in the end
When the procession came opposite
| the cottage, suddenly. without warn
| ing. the stranger covered. Sinking
down like a whipped cur. he endeav-
ored to get away from the hearse. but
| there was no way to do that except by
| first advancing. Trembling in every
! limb, he remained covering till the
funeral party had passed, then with
out farewell darted away in the op-
posite direction.
| AS he did so the woman of the house
| threw up a sash and said
lnoVu -