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pubOne.info present you this new edition. When The Rose of Dixie magazine was started by a stock company in Toombs City, Georgia, there was never but one candidate for its chief editorial position in the minds of its owners. Col. Aquila Telfair was the man for the place. By all the rights of learning, family, reputation, and Southern traditions, he was its foreordained, fit, and logical editor. So, a committee of the patriotic Georgia citizens who had subscribed the founding fund of $100, 000 called upon Colonel Telfair at his residence, Cedar Heights, fearful lest the enterprise and the South should suffer by his possible refusal.

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Publié par	Pub One Info
Date de parution	06 novembre 2010
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9782819933298
Langue	English

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by
O. Henry
“THE ROSE OF DIXIE”
When The Rose of Dixie magazine was startedby a stock company in Toombs City, Georgia, there was never but onecandidate for its chief editorial position in the minds of itsowners. Col. Aquila Telfair was the man for the place. By all therights of learning, family, reputation, and Southern traditions, hewas its foreordained, fit, and logical editor. So, a committee ofthe patriotic Georgia citizens who had subscribed the founding fundof $100, 000 called upon Colonel Telfair at his residence, CedarHeights, fearful lest the enterprise and the South should suffer byhis possible refusal.
The colonel received them in his great library,where he spent most of his days. The library had descended to himfrom his father. It contained ten thousand volumes, some of whichhad been published as late as the year 1861. When the deputationarrived, Colonel Telfair was seated at his massive white-pinecentre-table, reading Burton's “Anatomy of Melancholy. ” He aroseand shook hands punctiliously with each member of the committee. Ifyou were familiar with The Rose of Dixie you will rememberthe colonel's portrait, which appeared in it from time to time. Youcould not forget the long, carefully brushed white hair; thehooked, high-bridged nose, slightly twisted to the left; the keeneyes under the still black eyebrows; the classic mouth beneath thedrooping white mustache, slightly frazzled at the ends.
The committee solicitously offered him the positionof managing editor, humbly presenting an outline of the field thatthe publication was designed to cover and mentioning a comfortablesalary. The colonel's lands were growing poorer each year and weremuch cut up by red gullies. Besides, the honor was not one to berefused.
In a forty-minute speech of acceptance, ColonelTelfair gave an outline of English literature from Chaucer toMacaulay, re-fought the battle of Chancellorsville, and said that,God helping him, he would so conduct The Rose of Dixie thatits fragrance and beauty would permeate the entire world, hurlingback into the teeth of the Northern minions their belief that nogenius or good could exist in the brains and hearts of the peoplewhose property they had destroyed and whose rights they hadcurtailed.
Offices for the magazine were partitioned off andfurnished in the second floor of the First National Bank building;and it was for the colonel to cause The Rose of Dixie toblossom and flourish or to wilt in the balmy air of the land offlowers.
The staff of assistants and contributors thatEditor-Colonel Telfair drew about him was a peach. It was a wholecrate of Georgia peaches. The first assistant editor, Tolliver LeeFairfax, had had a father killed during Pickett's charge. Thesecond assistant, Keats Unthank, was the nephew of one of Morgan'sRaiders. The book reviewer, Jackson Rockingham, had been theyoungest soldier in the Confederate army, having appeared on thefield of battle with a sword in one hand and a milk-bottle in theother. The art editor, Roncesvalles Sykes, was a third cousin to anephew of Jefferson Davis. Miss Lavinia Terhune, the colonel'sstenographer and typewriter, had an aunt who had once been kissedby Stonewall Jackson. Tommy Webster, the head office-boy, got hisjob by having recited Father Ryan's poems, complete, at thecommencement exercises of the Toombs City High School. The girlswho wrapped and addressed the magazines were members of oldSouthern families in Reduced Circumstances. The cashier was a scrubnamed Hawkins, from Ann Arbor, Michigan, who had recommendationsand a bond from a guarantee company filed with the owners. EvenGeorgia stock companies sometimes realize that it takes live onesto bury the dead.
Well, sir, if you believe me, The Rose ofDixie blossomed five times before anybody heard of it exceptthe people who buy their hooks and eyes in Toombs City. ThenHawkins climbed off his stool and told on 'em to the stock company.Even in Ann Arbor he had been used to having his businesspropositions heard of at least as far away as Detroit. So anadvertising manager was engaged— Beauregard Fitzhugh Banks— a youngman in a lavender necktie, whose grandfather had been the ExaltedHigh Pillow-slip of the Kuklux Klan.
In spite of which The Rose of Dixie keptcoming out every month. Although in every issue it ran photos ofeither the Taj Mahal or the Luxembourg Gardens, or Carmencita or LaFollette, a certain number of people bought it and subscribed forit. As a boom for it, Editor-Colonel Telfair ran three differentviews of Andrew Jackson's old home, “The Hermitage, ” a full-pageengraving of the second battle of Manassas, entitled “Lee to theRear! ” and a five-thousand-word biography of Belle Boyd in thesame number. The subscription list that month advanced 118. Alsothere were poems in the same issue by Leonina Vashti Haricot(pen-name), related to the Haricots of Charleston, South Carolina,and Bill Thompson, nephew of one of the stockholders. And anarticle from a special society correspondent describing a tea-partygiven by the swell Boston and English set, where a lot of tea wasspilled overboard by some of the guests masquerading asIndians.
One day a person whose breath would easily cloud amirror, he was so much alive, entered the office of The Rose ofDixie . He was a man about the size of a real-estate agent, witha self-tied tie and a manner that he must have borrowed conjointlyfrom W. J. Bryan, Hackenschmidt, and Hetty Green. He was shown intothe editor-colonel's pons asinorum . Colonel Telfair rose andbegan a Prince Albert bow.
“I'm Thacker, ” said the intruder, taking theeditor's chair— “T. T. Thacker, of New York. ”
He dribbled hastily upon the colonel's desk somecards, a bulky manila envelope, and a letter from the owners of The Rose of Dixie . This letter introduced Mr. Thacker, andpolitely requested Colonel Telfair to give him a conference andwhatever information about the magazine he might desire.
“I've been corresponding with the secretary of themagazine owners for some time, ” said Thacker, briskly. “I'm apractical magazine man myself, and a circulation booster as good asany, if I do say it. I'll guarantee an increase of anywhere fromten thousand to a hundred thousand a year for any publication thatisn't printed in a dead language. I've had my eye on The Rose ofDixie ever since it started. I know every end of the businessfrom editing to setting up the classified ads. Now, I've come downhere to put a good bunch of money in the magazine, if I can see myway clear. It ought to be made to pay. The secretary tells me it'slosing money. I don't see why a magazine in the South, if it'sproperly handled, shouldn't get a good circulation in the North,too. ”
Colonel Telfair leaned back in his chair andpolished his gold-rimmed glasses.
“Mr. Thacker, ” said he, courteously but firmly,“ The Rose of Dixie is a publication devoted to the fosteringand the voicing of Southern genius. Its watchword, which you mayhave seen on the cover, is 'Of, For, and By the South. '”
“But you wouldn't object to a Northern circulation,would you? ” asked Thacker.
“I suppose, ” said the editor-colonel, “that it iscustomary to open the circulation lists to all. I do not know. Ihave nothing to do with the business affairs of the magazine. I wascalled upon to assume editorial control of it, and I have devotedto its conduct such poor literary talents as I may possess andwhatever store of erudition I may have acquired. ”
“Sure, ” said Thacker. "But a dollar is a dollaranywhere, North, South, or West— whether you're buying codfish,goober peas, or Rocky Ford cantaloupes. Now, I've been looking overyour November number. I see one here on your desk. You don't mindrunning over it with me?
“Well, your leading article is all right. A goodwrite-up of the cotton-belt with plenty of photographs is a winnerany time. New York is always interested in the cotton crop. Andthis sensational account of the Hatfield-McCoy feud, by aschoolmate of a niece of the Governor of Kentucky, isn't such a badidea. It happened so long ago that most people have forgotten it.Now, here's a poem three pages long called 'The Tyrant's Foot, ' byLorella Lascelles. I've pawed around a good deal over manuscripts,but I never saw her name on a rejection slip. ”
“Miss Lascelles, ” said the editor, “is one of ourmost widely recognized Southern poetesses. She is closely relatedto the Alabama Lascelles family, and made with her own hands thesilken Confederate banner that was presented to the governor ofthat state at his inauguration. ”
“But why, ” persisted Thacker, “is the poemillustrated with a view of the M. & O. Railroad freight depotat Tuscaloosa? ”
“The illustration, ” said the colonel, with dignity,“shows a corner of the fence surrounding the old homestead whereMiss Lascelles was born. ”
“All right, ” said Thacker. “I read the poem, but Icouldn't tell whether it was about the depot of the battle of BullRun. Now, here's a short story called 'Rosies' Temptation, ' byFosdyke Piggott. It's rotten. What is a Piggott, anyway? ”
“Mr. Piggott, ” said the editor, “is a brother ofthe principal stockholder of the magazine. ”
“All's right with the world— Piggott passes, ” saidThacker. “Well this article on Arctic exploration and the one ontarpon fishing might go. But how about this write-up of theAtlanta, New Orleans, Nashville, and Savannah breweries? It seemsto consist mainly of statistics about their output and the qualityof their beer. What's the chip over the bug? ”
“If I understand your figurative language, ”answered Colonel Telfair, “it is this: the article you refer to washanded to me by the owners of the magazine with instructions topublish it. The literary quality of it did not appeal to me. But,in a measure, I feel impelled to conform, in certain matters, tothe wishes of the gentlemen who are interested in the financialside of The Rose . ”
“I see, ” said Thacker. “Next we have two pages ofselections from 'L