The Washington herald., 1913-04-06

pared with KittrelTS master OF line that
he was, but kittrell saw that 1t had the
thing his work how lacked, the vital.
primal thing-sincerity, belief. love. The
spark was there, and Kittrell knew how
Hardy would nurse that spark and fan
II and keep II alive and burning until 1t
should eventually blaze UP In a fine white
flame. And Kittrell realized, as the days
went by, that Banks work was telling
and that his own was falling. He had
from the first missed the atmosphere Of
the Post. missed the camaraderie Of the
congenial spirits there. animated by a
common purpose, inspired and led by
Hardy. whom they all loved-loved as he
himself once loved him. loved as lie loved
him still-and dare not look him In the
face when they met.
He found the atmosphere Of the Tele-
graph alien and distaseful, There all was
different; the men had little Joy I'm their
work, little interest In II. save perhaps
the newspaper mans Unborn love of a
good story or a beat. They were all
cynical, without loyalty or faith; they
secretly made fun of the Telegraph. OF
its editors and owners: they had no be-
respectability. its parade of virtue. ex-
cited only their derision. And, slowly
II began to dawn on Kittrell that the
great moral law worked always and
everywhere, even on newspapers, and
that there was reflected inevitably and
logically In the work of the men on that
staff the hatred. the lack of principle.
the bigotry and intolerance OF its pro-
prietors; and this same lack of principle
tainted and made meretricious his own
work. and enervated the editorials SO
that the Telegraph, no matter how care
fully edited or how dignified in typo
graphical appearance. was. nevertheless.
without real influence in the community.
Meanwhile Clayton was gaining ground.
X was less than two weeks before cleo
ton. The campaign waxed more and
more bitter, and as the forces opposed
to him foresaw defeat, they became ugly
In spirit and desperate. The Telegraph
took on a tone more nacing and
brutal. and Kittrell knew that the crisis
had come. The might of the powers
RAISED against Clayton appalled, Kittrell;
they Numbered at him through many
brazen mouths, but Clayton held on his
high way unperturbed. He was speak
ing by day and night to thousands. Such
meetings he had never had before. Kit
trell had visions of him before those i'm
mense audiences in halls, In tents, in the
raw open air of that rude March weather
making his appeals to the heart of the
great mass A fine. splendid, romantic
Inquire he was, striking to the imagina-
ton, this champion of the peoples cause,
and Kittrell longed for the lost chance.
Oh, for one day on the Post now.
One morning at breakfast, as Edith
read the Telegraph. Kittrell saw the
tears well slowly In her brown eyes.
oh" she said. 1T is shameful" She
clenched her little fists. "Oh. IL were
in her impotent feminine rage. say
what she would do: she could only
grind her teeth. kittrell bent his head
over his plate; his coffee choked him.
Dearest" she said presently. in an
other tone. tell me, how is he? Do
you-ever see him? VIII he VIM
mo; never see him. But he'll win;
l wouldn't worry"
He used to come here" she went
on, Ito rest 4 moment, TO escape from
all this hateful confusion and strife.
He is killing himself! And they aren't
worth it-those ignorant people-they
aren't worth such Sacrifices"
He got up from the table and turned
away. and then. realizing quickly. she
few to his side and put her arms abou;
his neck and said:
Forgive me, dearest; 1 didn't mean
ooh. Edith he cried. this is killing
me. l feel like a dog
Don't. dear. he is big enough, and
good enough: he will understand"
Yes; that only makes it harder, only
makes It hurt the more"
That afternoon in the car he heard
no talk but of the election. and down.
own in cigar store where he stopped
Tor cigarettes he heard some men talk
ing mysteriously in the hollow voice
1f rumor of some sensation. some scan F!
ial. 1t alarmed him. and as he went A.!
INTO the office he met Manning, the |
relegraph's political man.
Tell me. Manning" Kittrell said. !
how does it look?"
Damn bad for us
For u.s."
Well. for our mob of burglars and !
second-story workers here-the gang !
We represent" He took a cigarette |
rom the box Kittrell was opening.
And will he VIM?
Twill he VIM" said Manning, eXhaling !
he words on tn. thin level stream of !
smoke that came from his lungs. .'Will |
lie win? In walk, 1 tell you. He's got |
EN- beat to standstill right now.
That's the dope"
But what about this story Of"
"Ah, that's all a pipe-dream OF Burns.
m running il in the morning, but it's
it's a shine. They're big fools
o print it, But it's their last card;
hey're desperate. They won't stop at
lnything. or at any crime, except those
-equiring courage. Burns is in there