The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1854-01-26

myers. GU ought 10 DC thankful TO get over
that really longest of forenoons, with so little
description
| wrote rapidly; for, as | said, went to
work in earnest this time, and warmed to it,
in spite of all hindrances. But, when it came
to the reading over! A highly. fgurative cler-
lcal friend, who moralized everything, from
undertook to a parallax, once assured me that
| his old sermons were "moral emeticsn to him
The elegant metaphor fitted my novel sensa-
tons at this crisis. My grand ideas, the har
monious combination of characters. incidents,
and principles, and their embodiment in the
rare" differed too grotesquely it was too
much
| And then, to forego the amusement of squib-
biug at other people, by going over into tie
ranks to be shot at myself-no; the expert
ment must kiudle the kitchen fre-its light
could no farther 60
| And forthwith fierce economy seized me
for my family, defrauded of the revenue which
my genius was to have supplied, were entitled
| to compensation IN somo form. | would not
put into your young heads al the vulgar f 10
tons that filed mine, or all the pinching ways
| by which | compelled myself to feel mean.
Perhaps / was not quite equal to one of my
friends, whose intense economy deserves to be
held in memory, and who, being just married,
and fully supplied with everything in the world
| BIG COutu Woue, Coulu ncr eager
ness to make sacrifices and help her husband,
| by restricting herself of comfortable clothing
thereby to save washing. But perhaps, too,
my expedients were not much more to the pur-
pose for, in my zeal to take care of the pence,
| the pounds did take care Of themselves most
unaccountably. And the conviction returned
| upon me, that should never become "a treas
ure to my husband" by my saving of candle
ends and bits of butter. So the writing mania,
no longer a merry thought, haunted me again.
And when, at midsummer, my room was dark
ened, lay in the old sunshine, peopled thick
with stories that would have told themselves,
could the hands that lay idly on the coverlet
have held pen. The first leisure Of health
was to be given to their etching; but that race
after leisure had in itself more funny items
than would bear any construction of probabili-
ty in the telling, as successive experiences; and
when, under any extra imposition of so-called
"help" | groaned, despairiDgly, "What shall
| do with her z" "Put her in the book,n was
the only answer that gave me the least conso-
lation. Months Of experiments and failures
in domestic &c ,nomy, but rich in specimens,
brought me, ono day, to such an extreme case,
in the shape of q cook and q character, that
was sure my fortune was made. Every day she
lived with me, it seemed a sinful waste of my
privilege not to be making book to frame her
in, if for no other purpose; only, there was a
hesitation about using her, as if it might be in
fringement of a copyright; for such an exagge-
rated form of humanity it was much easier
fancying as strayed out Of book, than as ever
born alive.
! Relieved from kitchen superintendent, then
did realize that an old fashioned practice had
of living with my children was not eminently
| conducive to literary success. Pen, ink, and
paper, were incontinently appropriated by
little fingers, when the mother in full "hands
and feet, and busy head" was not claimed by
the little people; and a slow suspicion dawned
upon me, that a woman, who world perform
"a special effort" must begin by quenching
her husband, strangling her children, and ig-
the way must be found So went we on, for
months more, in very suppressed stste-l
never daring to be " as funny as could " but if
ever bright thing rose in my throat, closing
my teeth upon it. to bottle it up, as, possibly,
five cents worth of lightning for the book"
That Jack-a-lantern book How it beckoned-
me on-how it tired mellow many petty
wastes and small breaches were repaired by
its visionary proceeds, before it could even
borrow leave to be-"
Working by inches, in odd corners between
calls and claims innumerable-with aching
shoulders, quivering nerves, and paintully-com-
PEELED attention-in the midst of highly ava
kened babies, dusty rooms, failing wardrobes,
and kitchen clamors, all which were to be
renovated or beatifed in some miraculous
way as recompense-I did eventually, bring
the task to completion.
Stern duly taking counsel Of my husband,
who after patient reading and judicious pru-
ming, thought it would do, the important man.
uscript was offered to respectable publisher,
with whom we believed its appearance might
be negotiated Shall ever forget the dead
weight Of the packet that was brought to me,
a few days AFTER or the silly trembie Of the
fingers that opened it! With my returned
manuscript lay folded note, addressed to my
husband, under whose care the application
had been made. have always remembered
its words-thoy ran in large, easy text, and
short paragraph
"Sir: We could do you no service by farther
| detention OF your manuscript.
"No experienced house would hazard the
publication of what must prove wholly unsafe
able.
If your lady friend is not Over-sensitive to
advice, allow me to recommend to her the
study of Proportion.
Every member Of her romance suffers plot
scenery-fgures, personal and Illustrative, for
anatomical adjustment.
| off as il probable the lady understands real
better than fictitious relations, she will do WISE
ly to adhere to those, and will fad nothing Of
fensive in my freedom
"With due respect, yours, &c,
| SELLERS & Co"
Slowly, and with becoming disgust, the con-
demned manuscript was examined-strip after
strip those diSjecta nlen,bra read and laid up
on the fire slowly the fallen thimble was pick
ed up, and fingers cold but no longer trem-
bling-fngers that never strayed toward the
broad road again - resumed their stitching
And this is the end, though not the WAole, of
my story about story, my single contribution
to the "calamities of authors"
"Then came the black time" added Aunt
Hepsy, between two pauses, leaving me to fill
the silence with that shadow of death, which, |
! knew, had wholly changed her life; then
my hands grew strong with desperation-not
hope; then this kind home was opened TO me,
and since then my poor Aunty reused up
her crooked shoulders to the climax, with an
homogeneous air of pride, that quite kept me
from crying-"I have, perhaps, done as much
| sewing az any woman Of my age"
Little Sue puckered her pretty mouth, and
muttered sometbing-in very rainy whispers
about the greatest shame, land that hateful
publisher" and g she knew it was a beautiful
story" while | fell to wondering, seriously,
whether Aunt Hepsy might not, even now, by
exchanging the needle for the pen, hberalize
the cut of her mourning Doubtless, it would
be private qualification, and Jim suggests,
surely public improvement.
The CALoRIc SHIP-Cspt Ericsson. in a
note to the editors of the NJ Y Express. saws
"The new engines are completed, and have
been at work for several days, their operation
proving conclusively that the practical difficult