I remember a time when he was inordinately grave for several days and pursued a tireless course of special reading through the office encyclopaedias and some books he had borrowed. At last he drew aside the veil of reserve which concealed his family affairs from even his closest friends and inquired if I could direct him to any recent authority on cancer. I divined the sad truth that his tenderly beloved mother was suffering from the dread disease. That was the day before serums, and nothing that he found to read in books or periodicals gave him a faint hope that his dear one could be cured. Thenceforward, mother and son awaited the inevitable end with uncomplaining patience which was characteristic of both. His cheerful smile returned, and while the blow of bereavement was impending practically all these “Tales from Bohemia” were written. To follow the career of “R.N.S.” and trace his development after he gave up newspaper work in the fall of 1893 is not required in this place. “Tales from Bohemia” will be found interesting in themselves, apart from the fact that they illustrate another phase of the literary gift of a young writer who contributed so materially to the entertainment of playgoers and novel readers for a period of ten years after the work in this book was all done. J.O.G.D. CONTENTS I. THE ONLY GIRL HE EVER LOVED II. A BIT OF MELODY III. ON THE BRIDGE IV. THE TRIUMPH OF MOGLEY V. OUT OF HIS PAST VI. THE NEW SIDE PARTNER VII. THE NEEDY OUTSIDER VIII. TIME AND THE TOMBSTONE IX. HE BELIEVED THEM X. A VAGRANT XI. UNDER AN AWNING XII. SHANDY'S REVENGE XIII. THE WHISTLE XIV. WHISKERS XV. THE BAD BREAK OF TOBIT MCSTENGER XVI. THE SCARS XVII. “LA GITANA” XVIII. TRANSITION XIX. A MAN WHO WAS NO GOOD XX. MR. THORNBERRY'S ELDORADO XXI. AT THE STAGE DOOR XXII. “POOR YORICK” XXIII. COINCIDENCE XXIV. NEWGAG THE COMEDIAN XXV. AN OPERATIC EVENING TALES FROM BOHEMIA I. -- THE ONLY GIRL HE EVER LOVED When Jack Morrow returned from the World's Fair, he found Philadelphia thermometers registering 95. The next afternoon he boarded a Chestnut Street car, got out at Front Street, hurried to the ferry station, and caught a just departing boat for Camden, and on arriving at the other side of the Delaware, made haste to find a seat in the well-filled express train bound for Atlantic City. While he was being whirled across the level surface of New Jersey, past the cornfields and short stretches of green trees and restful cottage towns, he thought of the pleasure in store for him--the meeting with the young person whom he had gradually come to consider the loveliest girl in the world. Having neglected to read the list of “arrivals” in the newspapers, he knew not at what hotel she and her aunt were staying. But he would soon make the rounds of the large beach hotels, at one of which she was likely to be found.