magazines, and in 1890 scored his first real success in this field,
with "Gallegher," which appeared in Scribner's. This was shortly
followed by "The Other Woman," "Miss Catherwaite's Understudy," "A
Walk up the Avenue," "My Disreputable Friend, Mr. Raegen," "An
Unfinished Story," and other stories that soon gave him an established
reputation as a writer of fiction. But while Richard's success was
attained in a remarkably short space of time and at an extremely early
age, it was not accomplished without an enormous amount of hard work
and considerable privation. When he first went to New York his salary
was but thirty dollars a week, and while he remained on The Evening Sun
never over fifty dollars, and the prices he received for his first
short stories were extremely meagre. During the early days on The
Evening Sun he had a room in a little house at 108 Waverly Place, and
took his meals in the neighborhood where he happened to find himself
and where they were cheapest. He usually spent his week-ends in
Philadelphia, but his greatest pleasure was when he could induce some
member of his family to visit him in New York. I fear I was the one
who most often accepted his hospitality, and wonderful visits they
were, certainly to me, and I think to Richard as well. The great event
was our Saturday-night dinner, when we always went to a little
restaurant on Sixth Avenue. I do not imagine the fifty-cent table
d'hote (vin compris) the genial Mr. Jauss served us was any better than
most fifty-cent table-d'hote dinners, but the place was quaint and
redolent of strange smells of cooking as well as of a true bohemian
atmosphere. Those were the days when the Broadway Theatre was given
over to the comic operas in which Francis Wilson and De Wolfe Hopper
were the stars, and as both of the comedians were firm friends of
Richard, we invariably ended our evening at the Broadway. Sometimes we
occupied a box as the guests of the management, and at other times we
went behind the scenes and sat in the star's dressing-room. I think I
liked it best when Hopper was playing, because during Wilson's regime
the big dressing-room was a rather solemn sort of place, but when
Hopper ruled, the room was filled with pretty girls and he treated us
to fine cigars and champagne.

Halcyon nights those, and then on Sunday morning we always breakfasted
at old Martin's on University Place eggs a la Martin and that wonderful
coffee and pain de me