File:A golden age of authors - a publisher's recollection (1919) (14595279997).jpg

Identifier: goldenageofauth00ells (find matches)
Title: A golden age of authors : a publisher's recollection
Year: 1919 (1910s)
Authors: Ellsworth, William Webster, 1855-1936
Subjects: Authors and publishers Publishers and publishing
Publisher: Boston : Houghton Mifflin
Contributing Library: The Library of Congress
Digitizing Sponsor: The Library of Congress

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andframed for many walls, and the line, * Drawn byWyatt Eaton. Engraved by T. Cole, became famil-iar to thousands. Cole himself is a simple man, of great kindliness,who has had at various times some interesting no-tions about food. Years ago, in the days whenHorace Fletcher was just beginning to publish histheories of eating, I made some good-natured funof them (we dont do this any more) and describedthe visit of guests at my house while my family wasendeavoring to Fletcherize, and the impatience ofthe guests when they did not have enough to eat.Some friend sent my screed to Cole, then in Bel-gium. He took it very seriously, writing me of hisgreat interest in all food .matters and gravely in-forming me of a discovery which he had made — noother than that the color of the skin was affectedby food. He was accustomed to eat for a long timeonly one kind of food, and once he went swimmingwith his son, who suddenly cried out, Why, father,youre turning green. And sure enough, wrote ( 72 )
Text Appearing After Image:
TIMOTHY COLE, ENGRAVED ON A WOOD BLOCK BY HIMSELF Made many years ago and in the size of a chimney tile. Used in the menu-book of the dinner in honor of Alexander W. Drake, February 25, 1913 TIMOTHY COLE Mr. Gole, I looked down at my body, and observeda green tinge. *The spinach/ I said, for I had beenmaking my sole diet spinach for six months. I mustchange my food! Whereupon he ate beets and atthe end of another six months found his body in ahealthy, ruddy state, which he felt was largely dueto the beets. To-day Cole and his wife are living in quiet re-tirement on the outskirts of Poughkeepsie, over-looking the Hudson, in a two-roomed bungalowwhich they built to suit themselves. It has a largepiazza enclosed in winter, and a cellar that wouldtake a prize in Spotless Town. Here in the smallerof the two rooms, his studio, with a north lightilluminating a small stand on which is a fixed mag-nifying glass, Timothy Cole does his work, engrav-ing what he pleases, a bookplate for a friend,

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