“On the last day of January 1887 paralysis set in, and for fourteen days, he lay speechless as well as sightless, but at last he was asleep and at peace. Looking at his serene face on the day ere the coffin lid enclosed it, where something lovelier than mortal sleep subtly dwelt, there was one at least of his friends who forgot all sorrow in a great gladness for the blind poet—now no longer blind, if he be not overwhelmed in a sleep beyond our ken. At such a moment the infinite satisfaction of Death seems beautiful largess for the turmoil of a few ‘dark disastrous years.’”
The Spring of 1887 brought a more kindly condition of circumstances to us, in the form of good steady work. Mr. Eric Robertson had then been selected to fill the vacant chair of Literature and Logic at the University of Lahore, and, on accepting, he suggested to Mr. Joseph Henderson that William Sharp should be his successor as Editor of the “Literary Chair” in The Young Folk’s Paper—the boys’ weekly paper for which Robert Louis Stevenson had written his “Treasure Island.” “The Literary Olympic” was a portion of the paper devoted to the efforts in prose and verse of the Young Folk who wished to exercise their budding literary talents. Their papers were examined, criticised; a few of the most meritorious were printed, prefaced by an article of criticism and instruction written by their Editor and critic. The work itself was congenial; and the interest was heightened by the fact that it put us into touch with the youth of all classes, in England, Scotland, and Ireland, in town and country, alike. Several of the popular novelists and essayists of to-day received the chief early training in the “Olympic.” Many were the confidential personal letters to the unknown editor, who was imagined by one or two young aspirants to be white-haired and venerable. This work, moreover, could be done at home, by us both; and it brought a reliable income, a condition of security hitherto unknown to us, which proved an excellent tonic to the delicate Editor.
In August a letter came from Mr. Theodore Watts-Dunton suggesting the possibility that an original poem, The Ode to Mother Carey’s Chicken contributed to my little anthology Sea-Music, should be re-printed in The Young Folk’s Paper:
“I do especially want it to be read by boys,” he wrote, “who would understand and appreciate it thoroughly.” The poem appeared; and drew forth an appreciative letter from a young blacksmith who had sent contributions to “The Literary Olympic.” Mr. Watts-Dunton’s acknowledgment to the “Editor” was thus expressed:
“I have seen the poem in the paper and am much gratified to be enabled to speak, thus, to thousands of the boys of Great Britain, the finest—by far the finest—boys in the world as I always think. It was a friendly act on your part and the preliminary remarks are most kind and touching.
“I sincerely hope that your indisposition has, by this time, left you, and shall be glad to get a line to say that it has. The young man’s letter is most interesting. What pleases me most is the manly pride he takes in his business. A blacksmith is almost the only artisan whose occupation is tinged with the older romance as Gabriel[2] often used to say. I love still to watch them at the forge—the sparks flying round them. I hope he may not forsake such a calling for the literary struggle.”
In the early part of the year “The Sport of Chance” had run serially through The People’s Friend. Its success incited the author to write a sensational boys’ story for The Young Folk’s Paper; and accordingly in the Xmas number of that weekly appeared the first installment of “Under the Banner of St. James,” a tale of the conquest of Peru. This story was followed at intervals by others such as “The Secret of the Seven Fountains,” “Jack Noel’s Legacy,” “The Red Riders.” Although the weaving of these sensational plots was a great enjoyment to the writer of them, he at no time regarded them as other than useful pot-boilers.
A letter written about this time to the American poet E. C. Stedman led to a life-long friendship with him of so genial a nature that, on becoming personally acquainted in New York two years later, the older poet laughingly declared that he adopted the younger man from across the seas as his “English son.”
In an article on “British Song” in The Victorian Poets, the Scottish poet was referred to as a Colonial. He wrote to the author to point out the mistake “since you are so kindly going to do me the honour of mention in your forthcoming supplementary work, I should not like to be misrepresented.”
In replying Mr. Stedman explained that no great harm has been done: