publishing "stories" about deformed and sightless infants. "The
office of the 'Eclipse' was at the top of an immense building on
Broadway. It was a sheer mountain to the heights of which the
interminable thunder of the streets rose faintly. The Hudson was a
broad path of silver in the distance." This leaves little doubt as
to the fortunate journal which had secured Rufus Coleman as its
Sunday editor. Mr. Coleman's days were spent in collecting yellow
sensations for his paper, and we are told that he "planned for each
edition as for a campaign." The following elevating passage is one
of the realistic paragraphs by which Mr. Crane makes the routine of
Coleman's life known to us:

Suddenly there was a flash of light and a cage of bronze,
gilt and steel dropped magically from above. Coleman yelled
"Down!" * * * A door flew open. Coleman stepped upon the
elevator. "Well, Johnnie," he said cheerfully to the lad who
operated the machine, "is business good?" "Yes, sir, pretty
good," answered the boy, grinning. The little cage sank
swiftly. Floor after floor seemed to be rising with
marvelous speed; the whole building was winging straight
into the sky. There was soaring lights, figures and the
opalescent glow of ground glass doors marked with black
inscriptions. Other lights were springing heavenward. All
the lofty corridors rang with cries. "Up!" "Down!" "Down!"
"Up!!" The boy's hand grasped a lever and his machine obeyed
his lightest movement with sometimes an unbalancing
swiftness.

Later, when Coleman reached the street, Mr. Crane describes the
cable cars as marching like panoplied elephants, which is rather
far, to say the least. The gentleman's nights were spent something
as follows:

"In the restaurant he first ordered a large bottle of
champagne. The last of the wine he finished in somber mood
like an unbroken and defiant man who chews the straw that
litters his prison house. During his dinner he was
continually sending out messenger boys. He was arranging a
poker party. Through a window he watched the beautiful
moving life of upper Broadway at night, with its crowds and
clanging cable cars and its electric signs, mammoth and
glittering like the jewels of a giantess.

"Word was brought to him that poker players were arriving.
He arose joyfully, leaving his cheese. In the broad hall,
occupied mainly by mis