New Orleans Republican. [volume] (New Orleans, La) 1867-1878, 1870-09-11

| esA~~A
alarm that she beheld herself whirled
/ along until trees, and fields, and houses
seemed to melt into confused mass.
Ere she had ceased to tremble and won
der the cars went more and more slowly,
and she was informed that she had arrived
at Brooklyn. She hurried out, and follow
| ing the stream, found herself on board a
ferryboat, and in a few minutes across the
river and in the great city. Now having
been in New York but once before, sister
Anne knew nothing whatever about the
town, but being a stout little body, and
| having learned q sort Of fearless freedom
| from her friends, the birds, she asked the
| first person she met to direct her to the
office of the Aloe newspaper. The man
said he was going in that direction, and
that if she would keep him in sight he
would point out the very door. So sister
Anne, with her precious bundle in her
| hand, trotted off after her civil guide I'M
! til they reached the cluster of streets
that all merge into the Park, and where
newspaper offices are as thick as blackber-
ries.
..There, Miss, said the man, pointing
to tall, dirty-looking building, '.there
| is the office of the Daily Aloe. Editors
rooms are on the third floor
''Thank you, sir, answered sister Anne,
with little bird-li Ike nod Of the head,
and in moment she was climbing up
steep stairs, dimly lighted, leading to the
editor room.
No one seemed to take the slightest no.
tice of her as she entered Seven or eight
men were all sitting at desks, cutting up
newspapers, writing as if by steam, turn
ing over new books, amidst horrible
litter of papers and pens, and all the par
aphernalia of an editorial room. Sister
Anne timidly inquired if the editor could
be seen. The SC ratching Of pens ceased
for an instant; one of the men looked up,
pointed with his pen to an inner door,
and went on writing again. In the inner
room the child found a handsome bearded
gentleman alone, and very busy writing.
She stood for some time little inside the
door, expecting that he would look up
He seemed, however, as unconscious Of
her presence as if she did not exist.
"Please, sir! p said sister Anne, after
waiting to be spoken to as long as she
thought was reasonable.
The gentleman looked quickly up.
''What can 1 do for you?" said he,
kindly enough, but still looking as if he
wished that she had not interrupted him.
"Please, sir, said the intruder, I'm
Filbert,"
This singular announcement seemed to
cause immense surprise to the editor of
the Aloe He opened his eyes very wide,
and looked with an incredulous smile at
the childish figure before him.
''You Filbert!' he cried. "You the
author of those charming poems that have
appeared from time to time in the aloe :?
Why. it's impossible! You can't be more
than fourteen"
I'm fifteen" answered sister Anne,
land indeep, sir, I'm Filbert.
.'Sit down, said the editor, g and tell
me what l can do for YOU"
Sister Anne took her seat and put her
hand in her pocket, from which she ex-
tracted a paper bundle. ''Here, she
said, ''are ten more poems, sir. think
they are as good as the first ones.
Tie editor took them with a smile,
glanced at the handwriting seemed con
WINGED of the little authoresss indenity,
and said
"Who taught you to write such charm
ing poetry
II don't know, sir" answered sister
Anne, flushing but [ think l learned it
in the fields, and from the birds and
trees.
''And your name is
''Anne Plymott, sir l live on Long
Island, but have come to New York to
see if l can earn some money by writing.
'.It's hard trade answered the edi-
tor, gloomily.
An trades are hard, said sister Anne,
with hopeful smile, ''butpeople succeed
in making money by them.
Yes" answered the man of letters,
''but cabinet-maker has a better chance
than a book-maker. There is greater
call for mahogany than for mind.
but my poems are surely worth some
thing" said the innocent, with conf
dent glance
.'Of that there is no doubt. But you
won't get any one to give you anything
for them.
what" exclaimed sister Anne.
Don't you pay for poetry
my dear young lady answered the
editor Of the Aloe, 1--WE only pay for news
and valuable matter"
so you won't pay NE for any of my
poems:'
sit would. I assure you, be deviation
from our established rule
ssIf they are not valuable, why, then,
did you publish them asked sister Anne,
with untaught logic.
because We thought them good, and
some of our readers like good poetry"
'Then, if your readers like It, it is worth
paying for.
al; &c. Io ii
| sionately at the innocent poetess who eX-
| pected to receive money Ill return for her
| labor and her mind. It was certainly a
very absurd expectation.
''Gfve me my poems, sir said sister
Anne, very brusquely, Il can't afford to
| give them for nothing"
'And we can't afford to buy them an
swered the editor, very cou,teously hand
ing back the bundle Of manuscript.
Sister Anne bowed majestically, took
her bundle, and stalked Indignantly out OF
the Office. When she got into the street,
| however, a sick, hopeless sensation
seemed to crawl over her heart. And he1
| anticipations We're destroyed at single
blow. The poems which she had labored
at in secret, and which, when she saw
them published, had given birth to such
wild hopes, We're then Of no actual value,
and ali her expectations OF making money
end supporting herself were at an end.
She would have given worlds TO have
gone back into the Office and asked the
editors advice as to what she should do,
but her pride was wounded, and she
would not stoop to ask a favor of one who
she thought had treated her so badly
Oh ! if she could only meet Mr.. Stephen
Basque. SO she walked on through the
crowded street, where she was jostled an6