Perrysburg journal. (Perrysburg, Wood Co., O. [Ohio]) 186?-1965, 1877-01-12
ACCEPTED"


y
numerous rebuffs, l could not give up
the dream of my lifetime - the dream
that began in my early girlhood-that of
becoming an author. And no disap-
pointment, no adverse criticism, had, as
yet, shaken my belief that many would
read and like my httle fancies, if could
only get them published.
But how to get them publishedf that
was the question.
Editor after editor had returned them,
sometimes with kind note regretting
that want of space, owing to great
many contributions on hand, prevented
the acceptance of so charming story or
80 graceful verse" sometimes with
polite printed declination, which, Of
course, proved "a joy forever" know.
ing, as | did, that the same honeyed
words must be dispatched to hundreds,
perhaps thousands, of other literary as
pirants, Independent of their degrees Of
merit; and sometimes without word
either written or printed, save the hor.
rid one, rejected" scribbled on the
outside of the last page, thereby running
that page forever.
One solitary, glittering, silver half dol
lar was all that remained in my shabby
purse-thc only thing that stood between
me and utter want.
had friends, but / was too proud to
let them know of my destitution, for had
they not one and all laughed me to scorn
when, the old aunt with whom had re-
sided since babyhood, having died and
left all her money to an orphan asylum,
totally forgetting her orphan niece,
boldly avowed my intention of earning
my living with my penP They hadl
And the memory of their mockery, the
echo OF their derisive laughter, made me
doubly determined to succeed, orwell,
| wasn't at all sure what the alternative
would be; but, as l said before, had ar.
rived at state Of desperation.
The last drop had been too much; my
cup of misery overfowed and so did my
eyes. l had taken such pains with that
story, Loves Dream" Ihad preserved
the incognito of my hero with (as l
thought) such delicate skill, and after
preparing my imaginary readers to weep
with my heroine, l had suddenly and
deftly dispersed the clouds that hung
over her life and left her smiling amid
flowers and sunshine, and yet it had
been returned from the Office of the
weekly NeptuSuttrd, paper greatly
beloved by romantic young men in trade
and their sentimental sweethearts in
service, and to which had sent it sorely
against my will because, bitter as the
truth is, I'll confess it, it had been re-
fused by half dozen better publications
with but one line Of comment, and that
n fp or |
sat looking at this short, but not at all
sweet, criticism, mechanically reading it
over and over, when suddenly the ludi-
crousness of the thing burst upon me. l,
who aimed to adorn the pages of our
leading magazines, to be told wasn't
up to the standard of the Weekly
N6pIusuItral Good graciousl how
funny. With the tears still clinging to
my lashes l laughed aloud. That laugh
brought back my courage. "La patience
est anicre, nlais son fruit est dour," or
will be when I get it, said to myself.
l try again, and having stopped so low
the last time, I'll stand on tiptoe this.
To the editor of the best journal know
shall Loves Young Dream" be sub
mitted, and if again l fail, and no fruit
drop into my pleading, outstretched
hands, I'll go to binding shoes, provided
tbsge AEsn ANY, shoes Il tn aR&iedi In ulpIa pIaIh e seS:
ing, if l can find some very plain in.
deed.
"Oh! that / had friend at court"
went on, glancing abstractedly from my
back garret window, and as uttered the
wish thought flashed into my mind
that flushed my cheek and made my
heart beat fast.
The house directly opposite, the back
OF which faced-to use an Emerald Isle
like expTession-the back of the one in
which lived, had the honor of shelter
ing well.known and much liked author.
l had often watched him, during the
summer months, bending over his desk,
which stood by one of the windows of
his study-a back-room like mine only
story nearer the drawing-room. But
with the coming of the autumn days
fair-haired girl had made her appearance
in the room, taken possession of the
chair and pen, and while he paced up and
down she wrote, apparently from his die.
tation.
His face pleased me, the high, full
brow, the pleasant eyes, the kindly mouth
and bright smile. And his manner TO
his young amanuensis pleased me no less.
(She looked wonderfully like him-his
sister, supposed her to be.) He would
often pause and lay his hand gently on
her pretty head, while she looked up at
him with as fond look as he bent on her,
and one day saw him reach from the
window to the hanging shelf of flowers
and pluck scarlet geranium, which he
fastened in her sunny hair
"I'n go to him." resolved, impetu-
ously. ON ask him to read my story
lie shall be my final judge. If he thinks
II unworthy III tear ii into fragments and
write no more; if worthy, I'll beg him to
say so in tiny note, and with this tiny
note I'll send it forth once more. He
will, at least, be kind to me-Im sure he
will. Should be mistaken-if from the
sunshine of his success and prosperity
he can spare no little glance for poor,
forlorn, wee thing like me-Ill never be.
lieve in faces again"
Hastily, lest my sudden resolve should
take flight, arranged my hair in the
most becoming manner-being woman,
should have found strength enough to
do that If i had been wholly instead of
half tarved-pinned a crimson rose in
my hat-brunette, not that it's of any
consequence-and in a few moments
found myself ringing the door.b bell Of the
house around the corner, and asking the
trim maid-servant who answered my
summons; II could see Mr.. Actoun.h
AS she hesitated stammered "On lit
erary business-Ill only detain him a
gerry short time"
She ushered me into pleasant parlor
and ran upstairs, and soon returned |
with request that should follow her.
followed her to the well-known third
story back room. With cordial smile |
my author rose from his soat--a formda- |
BILE rise 1t was, toO-at least six feet-as