Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1915-12-29
THE MAN WHO SOLD HIMSELF
By

THE mems wages aren't paid up" said
the builders son; they're going TO stop
work"
Very we'll" said John Paul, 'T'n find
the FIVE hundred. But that must be the
end. l can't raise another cent"
Then he drove out from the village to
have a look at his new house and his
heart fell. It did not look as IL It would
ever be finished dt never was); but the
builders son and the carpenter-they all
had frank. honest, blue eyes-reassured him
This long story must be made short.
John Paul's home cost him not S2500, but
s6000 And he had no redress. He con-
suited a lawyer.
Ibid you have anything in the nature
Of written contract7"
HE has letters of mine In which I
state definitely that $500 is all that
can or will raise"
HAS he?" said the lawyer. and he
smiled.
81 will fight" said John Paul.
Don't" said the lawyer. Pay. Al
ways pay"
But it's cheat, a steal"
What" exclaimed the lawyer CON
vince the court that respected, white
haired old man. grandfather many
times, Just risen from sick bed, has
cheated a healthy young man. who wears
smart clothes and belongs to the stratum
to have plenty Of money! 1t will be
cheaper for you to pay. Verdlcts in such
cases are not for such as you. There
was no writing. The man was your
agent. You have to stand for what he
has spent"
But said John Paul, "he has done
expensive things that 1 told him not to
do, and he has left undone inexpensive
things that were necessary. The house
isn't house. It's a mess. The beastly
blank old blank has gone and put colored
glass in the front door"
"The proof of these things?'
Are in my letters to him."
"You can produce them?"
He can"
ASK the July fireplace to give back the
Christmas log" said the lawyer.
Your advice" said John Paul, doesn't
even comfort me; but 1 suppose 1t will
cost nothing"
TT will" said the lawyer, but when
think how much l am saving you. feel
glad that this should be so."
That night John Paul walked the streets
of New York until daylight. For the first
time In his life he was in genuine despair,
and felt that he had failed in everything
and must go on falling. Night after night
he thrashed about in his bed and could
not sleep Everything that he had ever
known, thought about or touched rose
up In his mind to make him unhappy.
Where were the friends he had loved
and who had loved him? He had had to
work too hard; he had had no time for
them; they had fallen behind; they had
gone ahead. Where was that high ideal
that he had set for himself of prose mar
rative? Buried with Stevenson on the
Samoan mountain. What of the truth
that he was going to seek and speak?
Was there never to be an end of writ
ing love stories for revenue only? Once
he had wasted three months of income
producing possibilities upon a play He
cursed plays, actors, managers a little
himself much. Bills that whined to be
paid. bills that threatened him with the
law. danced and pranced and insulted in
his tired. restless brain. And there was
no way out, no way out. What happens
exactly If you just sit still and let things
happen? He did not know. But all sorts
of humiliation and disgrace. He knew
that. Could he ever hope to lift the in
cubus of his debts one story's worth at
n time? Yes. If he could double his out
put and editors would double his price.
Then came to him in the dark horri-
BILE need of tears. He felt that If he
could have a good honest cry 1t would
calm his nerves and send him to sleep
But he could no more cry than he could
pay his bills. And mornings when he
went to his desk 10 work he could no
more pay his bills than he could write,
But John Paul ought not to have been
discouraged. knowledge was what he had
always been seeking--knowledge of the
truth; knowledge of the world in which
he lived and of the peoples hearts in 1t.
That knowledge he was getting-in buck
cts. And weary and heart-sick and brain
sick as he was, the desire to speak out
and tell the truth about anything surged
within him.
CONTINUED TOMORROW.