The Washington times., 1913-06-13

fingers and face drawn white with pain,
he turned away from the crowded
streets toward Westminster. sank into
a seat. and, picking up the half OF a
of a journalist who had spent few
hours day. perhaps. in the slums.
As he read he laughed softly to him
self, and then, clutching the paper IN
his hands. he walked away to the EN-
bankment, UP Northumberland avenue,
quiries he found the offices of the
newspaper and marched boldly inside
A vast speculation, the enterprise OF
millionaire, the Daily Courier, though
1t sold for halfpenny, was housed In
a palace.
In Gothic chamber, like the hall OF
chapel, hung with electric lights and
hlled with a crowd of workers ana
loungers, Douglas stood clutching the
fragment of newspaper still in his hand,
looking round for some one to address
himself sto-a strange figure in his rags.
wan, starving, but something of per-
sonal distinction still clinging to him.
boy looked over a mahogany parti-
tion at him and opened trap window.
"Well?" he asked. sharply. do you
want papers to sell? This is the wrong
entrance for that. you know"
Il want 10 see some one in authority,
Douglas said; .'the sub-editor. If 1t Is
possible"
81
newspaper with it's vast circulation and
mighty staff, and visitors of all sorts
daily crossed its threshold Yet this
mans coat hung loosely about his per-
son in tatters. and his boots were al
What is the particular business?" he
asked curtly
"I will explain ito him-in a mo-
ment,'' Douglas answered. IF he is
busy, one of the staff will do. / am
In m II
The boy closed the trapdoor and with
drew. In a few minutes a young man,
snIartly dressed, with sparse mustache,
and a pince-nez, came out of door op-
want to see me-" he inquired terse-
ly. I'm an assistant editor.
Douglas held out the fragment OF
I've just read ;. that" he said Picked
The man glanced at 1t and nodded.
"Well?"
..It's badly done" Douglas said blunt
Iy. THE mans only sat down on the
outside Of the thing and sketched! 1t
isn't real. 1t couldn't be. No one can
write of starvation who merely sees II
written in the faces of other people. No
one can write of the homeless VINO Is
playing at vagabondage- To write you
The assistant editor looked his visitor
up and down, and nodded quietly.
"well?"
III this sort of thing is likely to in
terest your readers Douglas said,
give me pen and paper and will write
of the thing as II is. / am homeless.
and am starving. The loneliness that
your man writes of SO prettily ! VIII
set down in black and white. Man, !
am starving now, and I will write u
down so that every one who reads shaIl
understand. 1 have slept under arches
and on seats. / have lain dreaming
with the rain beating in my face, and l
have seen strange things down In the
underneath life where the soul Is tor
tured. Give me a chance and 1 Will
set down these things for you as no
one has ever set them down before
Douglas gave little lurch, swayeo'
and recovered himself with an effort.
The sub-editor looked at him with
slowly accommodating interest.
DO YOU drink" he asked quietly.
No" Douglas answered. I'm faint
for the want of food. that's all. Give
me pen and ink. and II you can use
what / write, pay me for 1t. You don't
stand to lose anything. and I'm-Tm-"