The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1942-11-26

boy completed manuscripts. sue
ceedlng only in starting an argu-
ment among ourselves over the pos
slbIe meaning of certain signs that
had vague resemblance to Eng
Hsh words. We began to suggest
as gently as we could that Harold
cease boring us with recitals con-
corning his Wondrous genius and
turn his efforts to the more remu-
neratiVe subject of potatoes and
corn.
"Unr4fIled, Harold continued to
scraWl out his so-called stories and
to berate us with predictions of
what the future held in store for
him. And at last, as means of
protection Ned Feeley lost his tenn
per and advised poor Harold that it
was high time he snapped out of the
state into which he had let himself
fall, that his opportunity Of becom-
ing writer was nil when you con-
sldered that there wasn't an editor
IN the world, including the most eX-
pcrlenced translatOrs of foreign Ian
guages, who could decipher his pen
manship; and that every one in
MillstoWn was fed up on hearing
about it. Ned ended his little speech
by offering to bet Harold that the
boy would never make a cent out of
writing, if he lived to be a thousand.
This last remark served to 81
lence Harold He stood in the lobby
Of the post office, looking from one
face to another, as though it were
only now that the realization of how
his fellow toWnsmen felt about it
all, was brought home to him. There
was a silence, during which some
of us shifted uneasily and knew a
sense Of regret of Ned S condemning
tone.
But presently Harold shrugged
his shoulders and turned away. At
the door he paused and looked back,
d hurt expression in his eyes, d
grim determination about his mouth.
III take the bet, Ned he said.
And We'll make the time limit a
year instead of a thousand Then
he went out.
For time the bet between Ned
and Harold stirred up no little ex-
element OF course we all knew
that Ned's money was safe, yet
there was that hurt expression in
Harold's eyes and the grimness
about his mouth to remember and
wonder at
However, a week later Har-
old Brickell was seen through
the day blowing the lower lot
on his farm and sowing it to
corn. And it was generally
n0ised about that the W0uld-be
author had conceded the bet.
"Of course we had no way of
knowing that during the time Har-
old was following along behind the
pillow, his mind was at work. None
Of us were artistically inclined and
we could not be blamed for not sus-
pecting that it is at just such times
as this that geniuses give birth to
their most astounding inspirations.
And when, three months later,
the excitement over the bet having
died down and everyone having
practically forgotten about Harold S
ambition, it was noticed that the
lad was not hoeing corn in his lower
lot for three days running, no one
guessed what he was up to. They
attributed his absence to such things
as pains in the stomach, or sun
stroke.
Little did we know that Harold
in the very act of extracting a jun
gle weed from a potato hill, had
been smitten with the idea of ideas
promptly dropped his hoe, returned
to the house and for three days
thereafter labored with pen and ink
in giving expression to the inspira-
ton that he was sure was going to
make him famous and win Ned's
5000 bet
AT the end of three days Harold
emerged from his abode, a stubble
of beard on his chin, his eyes red,
and a carefully wrapped manuscript
under his arm. He went at once
to the post office and dispatched his
precious burden by the evening mail.
Then he sat down to wait, conf
dent, triumphant, elated"
Ebcn paused in the telling of his
tale and chuckled. And | urged i'm
patiently: We'll, what happened?
Was the story good one? Did
Harold win the bet?"
Eben shook his head. Harold
won the bet, but no one knows to
this day whether the story was good
or not You see Harold was so posi-
tive that his yarn was a master
piece, so afraid that it might be-
come lost, that he insured the pack
age for 500. Dave Sampson, the
postmaster, managed with Harold S
help, to read the address on the
envelope, and dispatched the thing
to New York. However, that was
as far as it ever got.
mo one in New York could read
Harold's writing hence the package
was lost and Harold collected his
$500 insurance money. He also col
Iectcd his bet from Ned Fceley, be-
cause Ned was a good sport and aft
er all, it couldn't be said that the
lad hadn't made money from his
writing. There was another induce
mcnt, too. Harold promised to go
back to farming, which he did, and
has been doing so every since"
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