The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1855-05-24
For the National Era.
REJECTED MANUSCRIPTS or, THE STRANGE
MOUNTAIN.

| John p. Jewett, the noted publisher of Uacie
Toms Cabin, said to me, "Not more than
one-twentieth of all the manuscripts offered for
publication are accepted"
The remark came into my mind one even
ing, as sat IN my rockingham. ] was alone
/ in the house 1t was perfectly still, and the
hush OF twilight was upon everything around.
, As | sat wondering what became OF the reject
ed manuscripts, lost myself in a dream.
! dreamed | stood upon the edge Of a vast
/ plain. Away in the distance was a strange
mountain; it looked different, very different,
| from any mountain / had ever seen before.
! The plain was grassy and pleasant, and had
innumerable paths, all leading towards tine
mountain.
/ thought would walk along one of thee,
paths; and as | walked fancied / could sec
! other persons going towards the mountain
though l was not quite sure, as it was evening.
But as | drew nearer, / met several: each one
was alone, and seemed pilgrim. Some bore
themselves gloomily along, as if in sorrow
others with defiant air, if Drawing an enc
my others, again, had that calm, placid look,
that reaches beyond the present
The moon rose, and shone upon the mount
ain, which reminded me Of the chalky cliffs Of
England and yet, on coming nearer, | was
sure it must be very unlike them and / could
think of nothing that / had ever seen which il
/ resembled-it was too white for the marble hills
| Of Berkshire
/ | walked on, till l stood at the very base,
and then | saw that it was composed of " biz
paper books Yes, these were the rejected
manuscripts. They were not piled up in AN
orderly manner, layer upon layer. but thrown
down prOmiscuously, as if there were no fur
ther use for them. Then | knew the pilgrims
/ had met they were the disappointed authors,
who had come to deposite their manuscripts
upon the mountain. Some laid them down
sadly and gently, as we would part with liv.
! ing thing that we loved; others threw them
| down with violence, uttering strong impreca-
tons as they did so; these were those whom |
had met wearing defiant air. As the manu-
scripts had been thrown into such disorder. ths
corners of the huge reams of paper stuck ont
/ all over the mountain, not unlike the sharp
corners on mass of crystallizcd quart
sat down and unused long on this wonder.
full mountain; and queried with myself what
its name might be. Then it bethought me IT.
might well be called the Mountain of Lost
/ Hours.
! As turned to take a last. long look at 1t,
! the moon shOne brighter, and | beheld the,
manuscripts more plainly; and then / saw that
strange plants were springing from them, each
different from the other, and wholly unlike any
which had ever seen before. Here was a new
source of curiosity. | stool still musing: and
l soon observed that many of the plants had
strange, transparentlooking leaves, and all
along under the slender twigs were little crvs-
tai drops and as / looked, / knew they were
human tears, and these were all the fruit they
| bore. just then gentle breeze touched my
cheek, and moved lightly among the plants
that had no fruit OH them and every one of
the strange little leaves, as it was moved by
the breeze, gave forth a human sigh. The
breeze passed on; and, as it did so, | heard
direful sounds, and followed, to see from whence
they came AS drew near another part uf the
mountain, behold hidcOus plants, bearing ser.
penis for fruit; and as the wind touched them.
they writhed and twisted themselves around
each other, Kissing forth curses that made me
Shudder and turn away. These spraug from
manuscripts designed for "yellow-coyered lite
nature" which had been rejected by the pub
lishers-not because of the wickeduess thcv
contained, that, unfortunately, could never hap
pen-but because the market was already over
stocked. As | left these hideous, snake-bear-
ing plants, and passed along where the mount
ain lay in shadow, | saw several manuscripts,
so illumined from within, that they gave out a
quiet light, dispelling the darkness for some
yards around them.
These were works written in advance Of their
age, and so full of the pure radiance of DC
mus, that it could not be entirely hidden, even
in this Mountain Of Lost Hours.
And as L saw these, said to myself they
surely belong to the pilgrims whom met wear
ing calm look of resignation and conscious
worth, as if willing, like Calico, to bear with
patience their wrongs, till the world should be
wise enough to appreciate them.
CLARA CLAvERINC.