Daily national era., 1854-01-13
LITERARY MISCELLANY.
[wRrrrRs ron rHr NATIONAL KRA.l

1-sN'~-~~~
ribbons, and how the more sere and matronly
among us may keep our growing boys in shoes
it is resolved to profit upon the llustrious La
MARITIME precedent, and sell our Condolences
to the highest bidder We are all eminently
confidential persons and pos sessed of rich stores
Of private history, from {" thrilling down to
/" pleasing The least attractive morcedur will
be first thrown out Judicious encouragement
may then elicit the more sacred and inviolable,
for which, of course, prcportlonate charge will
be made.
Wherefore we pray you, Mr.. Editor, if you
have any compassion for feminine requirements
in this cool-sprinkled atmosphere, or any mem
ory OF nhoe-bills, for those unique payemcnts, to
accept our sacrifice, ior confederation, and
take, MS mol,
MRS CRUPPs CONTRIBUTION.
GIRLs: don't believe this writing book is
any Joke after all My Aunt Hepsy told me
something about it the other day and sus-
pect we had better save new ribbons off the
ends Of onr old ones, or wash our gloves with
hartshorn and milk, or wear black velvets in
stead OF under-slecyes, than tell printed stories
for love or money But my part Of this will be
easily done, between quotation marks---lor this
is Amt Hepsy's story, not mine; and she is
Mrs. Crupp only by courtesy, the little being
somewhat younger than her marriage certlii-
cate--my brother Jim--who is in college, and
feels bound to nickname everybody, gave it to
her, not ut all because she drinks brandy, or
wears nankeen, or let's furnished lodgings but
because she ia, "a he says, like superannuated
vinegar, "all mother The ungrateful boy
il she were less than that, wonder who would
hush up his scrapcs, or sew on his million of
buttons or mend those awful yawning knees
of hs2
My aunt Hepzibah is not a handsome wo-
man, though.
A long, pale face, scanned by time and rough
weather; Blue Ridge Of nosa, the more prom
inent for an excavation each side, where cheeks
used to be; thin fiat hair, surmounted by fun
ny little caps always rather scrimped for rib
bon STOPPING shoulders, and lanky figure
these are parts Of her personsiLe. Then her
black dresses look, Jim says, as if she had a
scant pattern at first, and then pinched out
enough, in making up, for child's frock, be-
sides. Certainly, Aunt Hepsy is not per se, an
ornament. But she has way OF fixing up
other people, and making herself generally nse-
ful, with that perpetual thimble OF her's-lend-
ing herself so completely to every matter-of-
fact occupation - turning with such grave
steadness from one to the other, in their un.
ceasing round-and seeming altogether, such
stereotyped Amt Hepsy, that surely, tnevcr
occurred to rae to suspect her OF Imagination
But, one day, when was condolng with,
rather than helping, little Sue who had Just
discovered, over her competition that to
construct story was q matter as far beyond
her art, as to build a house. Aunt Hepsy
looked at us both 80 earnestly, and caught
for the first time a Quick gleam in her eye re-
minding me so curiously OF the exhalations said
to rise over grayeyards, that was sure some
long-buried hope, or far-shining memory, bright
ened the gray quiet OF her vision: and, with
little Sues help, | coaxed out Of her fingers
the work, over which it turned to pore again,
and, out OF her treasury, a bit of confidence !:
Aunt Hepsy once wrote a story
How funny! to think you ever did such a
thing!n exclaimed little Sue, her round ewes
opening wide and wider. DO tell us all about
il, Aunty. And were you little girl like
met
No my dear--no girl was |, even then-sev.
eral years beyond that but not beyond the
companionship Of q merry group, with whom
had been 1one of the girls before circum-
stances rather than years, separated me to
moro mature experiences Oar set had n
well-used circuit, and sessions Of the pleasant
est; and though could not always 90 with
them, they graciously camo TO me-my snug
gerry OF sitting-room becoming in lapse Of
time, one poiut in the round And here, one
day, as we sat in busiest conclaye she who was
Oar Lady of Miracles for deyising in her
overfiowing kindness, such very liberal things,
that she sometimes ran blank against q high
wall Of forgotten necessity, burst upon me with
the aggravating question, 'Oh dear Hepsy-
why mil you sew 80 much?' A glance at my
work basket and at the several waiting claim
ants for its unfinished pile, seemed to me suiIi-
cient reply
Why don't you write storyq, was the
desperate question, upon which she vaulted
over this cotton battery. Two or three other
voices chimed in, and we all made merry over
the novel notion.
"Never wrote a story in my life-never told
one, worth q whipping
Well, but better people than you have.
Mrs So-and-So writes stories; why should not
you?p
A lady whom we had all known--not as
altogether such an one "a ourselycs,D but
still too nearly to realize in tho free use Of her
name, tine liberty we were taking with public
property, had just startled the world by won
derfnl book, not only spreading her fame
aboad, but accomplishing for herself the rare
fate to be accounted prophecies in her own
country, and that country's most skillfal de-
fender OF right and truth, even with the light
lance of fiction. With her and her strangely
powerful creations before me, il was impossible
20 say, what was ON my tongue, that always
thought story telling a small trade: and 10 add,
for the other significance Of tho encouragement,
Mr. Shakespeare wrote verses; why shouldn't
lf' would | knew, have been putting the case
just about a. modestly Nevertheless, glanced
at my needIc-bitten finger, and again at my
towering work-baskct and the temptation was
born.
The whim Of the hour went by acclama-
t'on, Sew no more Hepsy sew no morei A
book book 7,
"Youh all have TO go 10 press in the SER
vice, then--l haven't bit Of constrnctiveness,
and must have rcady-made charactersv
II should like to zee myself pressed - said
our Queen Elizabeth, Strengthening her bodice