The new Northwest. [volume] (Portland, Or.) 1871-1887, 1876-04-28

behind the chimney tops, aud the sane
tum became dark and gloomy all at
once.
"How pretty she is ~ Karl Rubens
thought; "but, pshaw the idea of her
writing for the papers Poor child,
how little idea she has of the life that
lies before her. However, I'll take the
papers to Di, and see what she says
about 'em."
Miss Diana Rubens was strong
minded young lady of a certain age,
who read Carlyle, translated Hebrew,
kept house for her brother, and did
nearly as much of the "heavy workn of
the Weekly Sinner as did the editor him
self
"Fiddlesticks ~ said Miss Diana, as
her brother, over his evening cup of tea,
tossed the manuscripts toward her and
related his story. "Little Blanche
Ainslie could no more write for the pa
per than my canary bird But every
woman thinks she's born an authoress,
and nothing but personal experience
will grind the idea out of her."
Then Miss Diana read the neatly
written pages one by one.
Scented with rose" said she, scorn-
fully. ''Stuff and nonsense P'
"Well 2" said Karl, at last, looking
up from his own writing, as Miss Diana
laid the packet down, with a loud
''Hem ~ which signified the completion
of her task.
"Fiddlesticks :" was the brief yet sig
ni6cant reply.
Karl rubbed his nose with the end of
his penholder, evidently little disap-
pointed.
"You think they won't do ?" said he
"Of course they won'tw said Miss Di
"Dishwater and adjectives-trash and
sentiment-what are the girls thinking
of nowadays? If she had sent me a
few good table recipes, now, or a way of
cleaning marble, or taking out mildew;
but an impossible love story, with the
hero on stills, and the heroine mere
milk-and- water PshawW
"Poor child !" said Karl, compassion
ately-but he never once thought of an
appeal from his sisters decision. "And
she was so sure of success ~
"They always are" said Miss Di.
Karl Rubens was a little provoked at
his strOng-minded sister; but he remem-
bered the palliating circumstance that
Miss Diana had never seen Blanche
Ainslie.
The editor did not sleep very soundly
that night. He could not help thinking
of the beautiful girl so suddenly re-
duced from luxury and wealth to utter
poverty; and when at last he fell asleep,
it was to dream of blue eyes and chest
nut hair braided with shining lights of
gold.
Karl had always admired the brokers'
pretty niece from a respectful distance.
Now it seemed as if she were fairer and
more attractive than ever. In fact, our
editor, although not aware of it himself,
was lowering dangerously near the
magic ground of love.
He called at Miss Ainslie's the next
evening with the condemned manu-
scripts in his pocket, and do believe,
had he not stood in righteous fear of his
strong-minded sister Diana, he would
have told Miss Ainslie that her pro-
ductions were accepted" and secretly
burned them on the sanctum fire. AS
it was, it was too late for any such sys-
tenn of double dealing.
Blanche was at home, sitting among
the splendor that was to be hers only so
brief time now, and her bright, up
ward look, as he entered, went to his
very heart.
az feel like Crookback Richard" he
thought, 'going to murder the innocent
little princes in the Tower"
And when he told her, as gently as he
could, that the stories and poetry would
not pass muster, she burst into tears.
Mr.. Rubens could not endure those
bright, sparkling drops.
"Blanche % he faltered, "don't cry.
Dear Blanche, it is not worth it,"
And before they parted that evening,
Blanche Ainsley had half promised to
consider the possibility of accepting the
editors love, since the editor could not
accept her contributions.
'The idea of supporting yourself is
very Ridiculous" said Karl. at is a
great deal better to let me support you"
And so Blanche Ainslie became an ed
itor's wife, and the happiest of little
matrons, and Karl keeps the little
packet that was respectfully declined" )"
to this day.