The new Northwest. [volume] (Portland, Or.) 1871-1887, 1876-09-01
The Miseries of Being Famous.
BY THOMAS BEALE.

summer.' cried Louisa Leighton, the
''rising young authOress," early one
lovely morning last June.
"Oh, tired of being liOnized at home,
are you ?" said her friend Nell Brown,
bending to pull her tiny slipper up at
the heel; for, if the truth must be told,
Nell, though beauty, was rather SLOW
enly.
mo; but you know that l have an
engagement to write a serial for Peter
sons Magazine, and that [ have too
many interruptions at home TO perform
it satisfactorily"
"Of course; for everybody is anxious
to pay court in some way to the re-
nOwned authoress," interpolated Nell,
merrily.
81 want you to 90 with me into the
country and pass for the authoress,
while [ remain unmOlested writing in
my chamber when l please, or strolling
out unnOticed."
at would be capital fun," cried Nell,
clapping her hands. "When shall we
start ?"
A week later the pair found them
selves enscOnced in two pleasant rooms,
parlor and sleeping-room, in a village
in the interior of Massachusetts,.
'How do you like the looks of things?"
asked Lou.
"Much. Did you notice that two gen
tlemen-nice-looking yOuths-fOllowed
the hack from the cars to this very
door?u
''No, Nell; did they? In truth, I was
lost in noticing the gorgeous blue of the
sky. 1t strikes me that the sky is bluer
in the country than in the city"
MAYBE tits" said Nell, with a yawn.
Hearing the sound of horses feet, she
rushed to the window that commanded
a view of the road, when she exclaimed,
"Here they are again? How ought /
to stand to look classical, ETC., hey? Is
this the right attitude ?"
"Stand as you always do. Don't 90
to affecting anything" said Lou, mer-
Tily, while taking from her trunk her
writing materials and placing them
upon the table near the window where
Nell stood.
'If those gentlemen are not dismOunt-
ing" gasped Nell, a moment later
"Do you hear me? DismOunting at
our door nr
Here the farmers voice was heard.
''Ah, boys, Pm right glad to see you
Walk in"
''Those gentlemen can't be sons of
that rough old man! Lou, come and
peep out, will yOu?"
"Ihey are fiue-lOOking youths. Maybe
they are his sons. A large portion of
OuI leading men were born in the coun-
try-had farmers for fathers, you know"
whispered Lou, furtively glancing upon
the trio below.
The farmers greeting was answered
in as kindly a spirit, and the horses
were speedily led round to the stable by
the farmers son, a mirthful lad of in
guiring mind, whose name was Jim.
"Have your boarders arrived ?r asked
one of the young gentlemen, when
seated in the parlOr.
'Ha, you rogue, just like your father
at your age! Well, Will, they have. ]
guess you'll want to stop here a spell,
now, hey?" laughed the farmer
shouldn't wonder, uncle" laughed
Will.
Just here the farmers wife, Mrs.
Smollet, entered. On her rubicund face
there also shOne a smile.
''There, boys, I knowed jest as soon
as you'd heerd We were a-gOiu' TO have
live author board here, you'd visit us
quick enough. l charged Jim not to
tell your folks word about it, when he
rode over last Sunday. But catch him
to keep a secret! You see, l wanted
ye, when We did come, to come to see
mind, I'm glad to see you, anyway.
Jim's put yer bosses up. Where's yer
baggage?"
"We haven't got any. We intend to
pass tonight and tomorrow morning
only with yOu," said George, the elder
and more grave of the young men.
"Sho, you don't say ?" replied Mr..
SmOllet, about to fill his pipe. YOU'D
better reconsider that 'ere, boys"
'Now, that's too bad Hadn't We bet
ter let Jim 60 over to Granville aud
get ye change of clothes, some time
tomorrow" asked Mrs. Smollet.
"You are very kind, aunt; but, as we
are about to take a trip to the White
Mountains, we must Decline" replied
George.
aunt" whispered Will, "do tell me
which is the author. was at the depot
when they arrived"
''The one with the golden locks and
blue eyes"
Impossible ~ said George. "She
don't look intellectual"
81 can't help that; she's the one, and
no mistake. She is frOlicsome cretur,
too. Would make a nun laugh. And
mOre-she's awful careless of her clothes,
tore her handsome check silk gown in
gittin' out of the hack, when she needn't
done it, and never cared a mite about
it. l said to her, My dear, you've tored
it awful, haven't ye p an she said, with
a cunning little toss of her lovely curls.
La, it's nothing; Pm always tearing
my clothes; l never hev whole rag on
me long at time.'n
"Don't go to falling in love with her,
Will. A woman that pretends to know
more'n she ought ter, don't never make
a profitable wife. Writing is above a
wOman's sphere" observed the farmer.
"Besides, she's destructive"
"Poh a CRATE deal you know what's
above wimmin's sphere. ! think wim-
min are ekal to men in brain any day."
replied Mrs SmOllet.
$50 do 1, aunt" said George, with an
animated look
"Do? Then go in and win," was the
laconic observation of Jim, who stood
leaning in the doorway. This caused q
laugh. When it had subsided, Mrs
Smollet said:
81 hope, Jim, you haven't been a.
telling everybody who we've got to
board here ?"
81 can't say hev. But old Marin
Sykes means to have a couple of verses
writ for her tombstone, and Nancy Bell
wants new autograph in her album.
and Peggy Lowering has got a boouej
to offer the authoress."
HNoW linn as thOugh tho iadios mo -,