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Updated: May 11, 2025
I felt somewhat uneasy at this lumping of the actress and the author, and I confess that after having enlisted Mr. Pinhorn's sympathies I procrastinated a little. I had succeeded better than I wished, and I had, as it happened, work nearer at hand.
Pinhorn's, was to be the first to perch on the shoulders of renown. Mr. Rumble's studio was a circus in which the man of the hour, and still more the woman, leaped through the hoops of his showy frames almost as electrically as they burst into telegrams and "specials."
Relief!" was the threefold exclamation with which the young man was greeted. "What do you mean?" Jack inquired. "General Howe! You! Message to Mr. Washington! To-night!" "Do you mean General Washington?" "No. Mister! "I shall take no message to 'Mr. Washington," Jack answered. "If I did, I am sure that he would not receive it." Mr. Pinhorn's face expressed a high degree of astonishment. "Pride!
Pinhorn's, should render the problem incalculable. It only half- reassured me that the sketch itself was so copious and so eloquent that even at the worst there would be the making of a small but complete book, a tiny volume which, for the faithful, might well become an object of adoration.
Eliphalet Pinhorn, who had so distinguished himself on the stage trip to Philadelphia some years before. "It is a long time since we met," said Jack. Mr. Pinhorn's face seemed to lengthen. His mouth and eyes opened wide in a silent demand for information. Jack reminded him of the day and circumstances. For a moment Mr. Pinhorn held his hand against his forehead and was dumb with astonishment.
Pinhorn's note was not only a rebuke decidedly stern, but an invitation immediately to send him it was the case to say so the genuine article, the revealing and reverberating sketch to the promise of which, and of which alone, I owed my squandered privilege. A week or two later I recast my peccant paper and, giving it a particular application to Mr.
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