A golden age of authors : a publisher's recollection . so heedless ofus all. What a short-lived creature is man (myself ex-cepted, by-the-by, 75 next birthday)! In a few yearswe shall be sweet little angels, wings and all, and as theold gambler said on his death bed, If we meet Ill flyyou for $5. Till then. Sincerely yours J. Jefferson Gilder encouraged a number of authors besidesJefferson, and one, Hopkinson Smith, he actuallystarted on his career. Smith was a great story-teller, and Gilder asked him to make a record of hisstories for The Century, with the result that Hop-kinson Smith produce
A golden age of authors : a publisher's recollection . so heedless ofus all. What a short-lived creature is man (myself ex-cepted, by-the-by, 75 next birthday)! In a few yearswe shall be sweet little angels, wings and all, and as theold gambler said on his death bed, If we meet Ill flyyou for $5. Till then. Sincerely yours J. Jefferson Gilder encouraged a number of authors besidesJefferson, and one, Hopkinson Smith, he actuallystarted on his career. Smith was a great story-teller, and Gilder asked him to make a record of hisstories for The Century, with the result that Hop-kinson Smith produced Colonel Carter of Carters-ville, planning it simply as a vehicle for the coloredservant Chad to tell his stories, but when it wasdone the stories were subordinate to the charmingrecord of the Virginia gentleman, * Colonel Caarter,in New York. One day Smith came into my oflSce saying, Ells-worth, how do you think my stories would go onthe stage.^ Why should nt I give readings, and howdo you get I took him into Major Ponds [86] CP —^ —. LAST PARAGRAPH OF A LETTER FROM JOSEPH JEFFERSONWRITTEN AT PALM BEACH, FLORIDA, DECEMBER 11, 1903 F. HOPKINSON SMITH office, next door, in the Everett House, and he wassoon as great a success at entertaining the pubUc ashe had been at engineering and writing and paint-ing. I think it was as a painter, perhaps, that hetook the most pleasure. His vacations, for twenty-seven consecutive summers, were spent in Venicepainting — and if a man can go where he wants togo and do what he wants to do for three monthsand then sell the product for some thousands ofdollars, I cant imagine anything much better thisside of Paradise. The world does nt seem quite the same worldwithout Hopkinson Smith. No one could be morealive. I can see him as he was at a Twelfth Nightrevel of the Century Club. He came as the GermanEmperor — it was years before the war — clad in asnow-white uniform, with a brass helmet, and hislong mustaches having an upward t
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