The Lamoille news. (Hyde Park, Vt.) 1877-1881, 1878-06-19

| Pflnteu them WAtnout making any
charge.
81 am afraid he has lost money, poor
man, " sighed the poetess.
"Oh, Miss Filmer What was the
name of the review that attacked you p
"The Blank ReUie,O," replied Mrs.
Sinclair for her friend. "Did you ever
hear of itP"
eyes, said 1, az carelessly as Icould,
but bit of lump began to rise in my
throat; "I have seen the periodical.
Did Miss Filmer publish under her own
name ?"
"No, she took the nom de plume Of
Dora fortunately; think she would
hardly ever have got over the attack, il
it had not been lrs the shelter of q
pseudonym."
"Mr. Jones will think me very thin.
skinned" said Miss Filmer with smile
"but l do not think that / should have
taken any fair criticism of my book,
however severe, to heart. Indeed, some
were kind and some were harsh, and ]
set them against one another. But this
particular notice seemed to be dictated
by personal malice, for it sought to turn
me into ridicule, as well as my work. II
made me feel as if 1 had done bold
and unwomanly thing, and certainly
cured me forever of authorship. Nc
success would compensate one for being
made the subject of such attacks"
If give you my real name, which OF
course is not Jones, you would recog.
nize the fact that 1 am not generally
considered deficient in that useful foren-
sic quality-er-suppose we call it brass.
Even in those early, y,days 1 was not easily
put out of countenance. But on that
occasion 1 did wish that the bottom of
the boat would open, and friendly bar
bel of whale-like proportions absorb me
quietly.
For once in my life did feel most
utterly and intolerably ashamed of my
self, That pretty little, delicate, gentle
girl, so refined, SO sensitive it was
just as if had struck blind man, or
an infant!
"That is the old FORM" gasped Sin
clair. But I-say-you know-we
have-to come-back-again."
"You will knock my poor husband
quite up If you row so fast, said his
wife with smile that had a touch of
anxiety in it. And, in truth, trying to
escape from my reflections, and not
aware what 1 was about, had set him q
racing stroke, and we were tearing
through the water at a grand pace.
easied at once, and preshut'y we turned;
I was so thoroughly disc concerted, how
ever, that 1 made my bli stored hands
an excuse for changing places, and to
shifting the brunt. of conversation to
Sinclair.
Before we retired that evening I bor-
rowed the volume of poems. 1t was in
deed the "Echoes of the Heart" which
I had treated so unkindly; but why did
they let her choose such provok-
ing title? I read every line before 60
ing to bed, and felt more ashamed of
myself as L proceeded. 1t was not merely
the merit of the verses which rebuked
me, though they were more than meri.
torious, but the kindliness, the broad
charity, the flashes of eloquent admira-
ton, excited by all that is most noble in
humanity, should have guaranteed the
book against insult, at all events.
passed bad night over it, but recov-
cred my self-possession in the morning,
and at breakfast expr6ssed myself in
terms which brought color into the
cheeks and light into the eyes of the
poetess. AS for the hostile critic, I al
luded to him in way which prevented
the ladies' ever mentioning his libel
again, for fear, as Sinclair told me, lest
L should find out who the culprit was
and become engaged in some personal
conflict with him. That I might be
spared no element of remorse, Miss Dali
sy proved to be an orphan and poor;
her father, retired colonel, having fal,
len into the trap which catches SO many
old officers, and become director of some
company which broke down and swal-
lowed his little property.
However, managed to calm myself
down, and tried to make amends by be-
ing as agreeable as could to the young
lady had unwittingly injured. 1t was
rather dangerous operation, consider
ing that L was several years short of
thirty, and she was still younger, but it
had the fascination about it which danger
GUS games often have. What with bath
ing, boating and making amends, fort
night slipped away pleasantly, and when
returned to town at the end of that
time could scarcely be called free
man. CdsSeWs Magazine.
nawsnanar of January 1901 man