.. Derek
sent me that weekly stipend of seven dollars and fifty cents!...
* * * * *
I settled down to consecutive literary work.
Lyrics I could write under any condition. They came to me so deeply from
the subconscious that at times they almost seemed like spirit-control,
which, at times, I am sure they had been, till I set the force of my
will against them. For I was resolved that what _I_ wrote should be an
emanation from my own personality, not from dead and gone poets who used
me for a medium.
But when it came to long and consecutive effort, the continual petty
worry of actual penury sapped my mind so that I lacked the power of
application....
With Derek's remittances this obstacle was removed....
I had soon completed the first act of my apostolic play....
And then I plunged into a scrape, together with my fellow members of the
press or "Scoop Club," as it was more popularly known, which halted my
work mid-way....
* * * * *
Our common adventure derived its inception from a casual remark of Jack
Travers', at one of our meetings....
Ever since Arthur Brisbane had come to Laurel, Jack had been on his
toes....
"Brisbane brought me a breath of what it must mean to be a big newspaper
man in the world outside," said Travers, as he stretched and yawned,
"why don't we," he continued, "_start_ something to show 'em we're
alive, and not dead like so many of the intellects on the Hill!"
"--s all right to talk about starting something .
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