Natives of western Pennsylvania are familiar with two very characteristic names, “Frisbee” and “Gilhooley.” A short, stout, rather good looking young man of twenty-eight or more is the father of both cognomens, and every grown up resident in smoky Pittsburgh will tell you who he is. Will W. Clark, the paragrapher of the Pittsburgh Leader, does not enjoy a national reputation, although he deserves it. His character sketches signed “Frisbee” and “Gilhooley” are choice tidbits of humor, while his “All Sorts” column in the Evening Leader is rarely dry or out of humor. Clark was born in Pittsburgh, and will probably die there. He is married and is the happy parent of three children. Although but six years in the journalistic harness, Will is already an old hand at the business and is an accomplished reporter. He is a hard-working journalist, who looks ahead for bread and butter rather than for fame. His humor is peculiar, and I can give no better example of it than a life of himself, written by himself, for himself. It is as follows: “MY DEAR CLEMENS: “My biography is not a particularly interesting chapter, and is in fact the romance of a poor young man. Still I think I am a humorist. Away down in the innermost recesses of my system I feel I am a humorist, but by some unfortunate combination of circumstances the public has never tumbled to the fact, with the proper precision and accuracy; the public wouldn’t tumble if a marble front would fall on it. That is probably the reason I am on the ragged edge of genteel poverty at the present time instead of rolling in luxury. “I was born in the classic precincts of Hardscrabble, of poor and presumably honest parents. I took a fancy to literature from my mother, who was a Scotch-Irish woman, a great reader, and knew Burns by heart. “The old man was an Englishman with a bald head and side whiskers, and had a faculty of accumulating money, a faculty, I regret to say, which is not hereditary in our family. He used to remark, with some of that fine humor which I possess to such an intense degree, that he came from Derbyshire, ‘where they were strong in the arm and weak in the head.’ “The most striking evidence of weakness on his part was his presenting me with a watch, in consideration of which I was not to enter the army. On this occasion I became apprised, for the first time, that I was a humorist, as I had no notion of going to the front. I think it is much better to be a miserable poltroon during a war than a one-legged organ-grinder after it.