The sun. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1833-1916, 1915-01-10

not deemed sufnClent, the note went
on, he had only to name what sum he
considered fair and the additional
amount would be RENTED to him.
Porter, who probably vas the least
vainglorious writer of equal fame that
ever lived, smiled a sort of cherubic
smile as he passed the note over to me.
When l had finished reading it, without |
comment, he, saying never a word, adj
dressed an envelope to the editor of
the publication, slipped the check into ,
the envelope. stamped the envelope and |
went out into the hail and deposited it |
in the drop. Not a word passed be- |
| tween us about the offer. But he would |
have been more than Humankind he |
was neither more nor less than just that, |
| but very greatly that-had he not en- |
| joyed a moment OF sharp qualification |
| over such an incident.
do not think l have heard It men
toned. by the way. that he treasured
i employ the word that seems best
to ft-treasured a large collection Of
| rejection slips and letters Of rejection
that he had accumulated during his
years OF literal literary adversely.
Among these were a good many small
| unsigned slips torn from scratch pad
| with the words with THE Suns
thanks" neatly written in purple ink
| These slips had been enclosed by the
editor of the New York Sunday Sun
with stories which o. Henry had SUBJ
mitted during the early and mid COS
These stories were nowhere near his
best mark, but all Of them were after
ward bought at very high rates by
! magazines.
I met o. Henry through Gilman Hall
| Of EUerUbOdUS. There have been and
are a number of writing men who
claimed or claim to have been very
close to o. Henry. None Of them ever
was nearly so close to him as Gilman
Hall. Hall was the only man OF whom
| ever heard Sidney Porter speak in
terms Of positive affection, for he was
anything but demonstratlve in his mani
festations OF friendship; his natural
pose in the domain Of friendship was
one Of cheerful and non-injurious rail-
lery. But for Gilman Hall he had an
affection as great as any man can feel
for another. He always alluded to him
as "the Colombian odd term in its
application 10 so distinctly unmilitary
gentleman as Mr.. Hall-and in his more
, serious moments, when he permitted
, himself to speak at all OF himself and
} his literary life-which was rare-he
attributed his breaking out OF the
mob" Of writers TO Gilman Hall. who. as
the editor of Ainslce's, really did earn
, the credit of discovering o. Henry.
was one of the favored ones to be
freely admitted TO the Twenty-sixth
street sanctuary after the meeting
through Gilman Hall, and II may be
| that for about five years before his
= death ] spent as much time with Sidney
t Porter as any other man in the writing
business. We often lunched together
G at the Imperial. dawdling over the coffee
I until or o'clock in the afternoon.
: Before his second marriage we would
5 go occasionally TO the theatre. Porter
invariably picking out some vaudeville
n house where there would be an anna
tours night" of fun, sort Of thing
1 from which he never ceased TO extract
l. an immense amount of entertainment.
Many times dined with him at a
i now too noted Italian table d'hote in
: Seventh avenue; a restaurant which
! then was achieving its far flung reputa-
u ton as a so termed bohemian" insti-
' tuition. Porter delighted to watch the
: great throng Of entirely respectable and
~ sedate people, mostly strangers in New
!, , York, who repaired TO this Italian res
= taurant for the purpose of imagn.n
: themselves to be very quick and devil
9 ish bohemian" indeed. There would
. scarcely be New Yorker at the tables
: the great majority Of the diners Away:
e were people from the little towns, who
:, having heard all about this gay res
:, taurant, could not have gone home con
:, tent had they not encompassed dinner
there. submerged themselves in III,
hot % lal n
a and played "bohemians."
70 Porter watched them at their would
in be bohemian antics with his broad fac'
Iy creased with merriment, and / woul,
10 that it had been possible TO get phono
a. graphic records of his comments, mad
nj in his extraordinarily low pitched voice
70 so low pitched, indeed, that with tn
as rattle Of dishware and the hum of tail
is and the blare of music 1t was very DIFF
ne fcult indeed to hear what he said RICH
he in ones ear; as, indeed, It was ofte
II difficult to understand o. Henry whe
IN he talked amid the most quiet surround
II ngs, so confirmed was he in the hab
Of speaking in his queer under one,
fe But, as was natural, ! came to kno
A. the real o. Henry mainly through jos
tn ging about with him when no thir
he would occasionally throw off the mas
sh of raillery which he invariably VOL
at in a mixed company; not, be it under
o. stood, the doleful raillery of deliberi
to tive would-be funnyist, but the purel
n defensive manner of cheerful CONNER
ne which seemed to him to be the be-
en- means of meeting an occasion and pas
en- Ing the time thereof For IL shou
or be said here that O. Henry despite Il
an interest IN life which bubbles up al
through his stories, absolutely was or
tn or the most world weary men | hay
en- ever known. lie was not so pessimst
of as he was thoroughly tired. He did n
he put on the foolish blase pose; he d
ne not profess the WEAKNESS whiC
all smouldered in his vaguely seeing bit
NJ eyes: bitterness OF the usual sort WI
ng apart from HIM; but by the time SUI
ng cess came his way he had come to vie
les the game of life as a not very interes
ng ing or inviting ola podrida OF farce ar
his tragedy, a game which he no long