over all the city. I swore
some when the copy boy came in and said that there was yet a column and
a half to fill, and that the foreman wanted to "close up the page
early." The true cause of my indisposition was due to the rumors rife
in the office that morning. Rumors which emanate from the managing
editor's room are usually of the sort which burden the subordinate ones
with anxiety. The London correspondent was "going to pieces." He had
cabled that he was suffering from nervous prostration, supplementing a
request for a two months' leave of absence. For "nervous prostration"
we read "drink." Our London correspondent was a brilliant journalist;
he had written one or two clever books; he had a broad knowledge of men
and affairs; and his pen was one of those which flashed and burned at
frequent intervals; but he drank. Dan's father had been a victim of
the habit. I remember meeting the elder Hillars. He was a picturesque
individual, an accomplished scholar, a wide traveller, a diplomatist,
and a noted war correspondent. His work during the Franco-Prussian war
had placed him in the front rank. After sending his son Dan to college
he took no further notice of him. He was killed while serving his
paper at the siege of Alexandria, Egypt. Dan naturally followed his
father's footsteps both in profession and in habits. He had been my
classmate at college, and no one knew him better than I, except it was
himself. The love of adventure and drink had ended the life of the
one; it might end the life of the other.

The foreman in the composing room waited some time for that required
column and a half of editorial copy. I lit my pipe; and my thoughts
ran back to the old days, to the many times Dan had paid my debts and
to the many times I had paid his. Ah, me! those were days when love
and fame and riches were elusive and we went in quest of them. The
crust is hyssop when the heart is young. The garret is a palace when
hope flies unfettered. The most wonderful dreams imaginable are dreamt
close to the eaves. And when a man leaves behind him the garret, he
also leaves behind the fondest illusions. But who--who would stay in
the garret!

And as my thoughts ran on, the question rose, Whom would they send in
his place--Dan's? I knew London. It was familiar ground. Perhaps
they might send me. It was this thought which unsettled me. I was
perfectly satisfied with New York. Phyllis lived in New York. There
wo