The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1878-07-10
boat-house, which was also arranged as

fastened by a paddock, was loosened z;
the ladies seated themselves in the stern,
Mrs. Sinclair taking the tiller, and as
her husband remembered that [ had
rowed on the stroke-side at the Univer-
sity I was placed on the after-thwart, in
easy conversational contact with them.
When Sinclair wanted to join in the talk
he had to raise his voice and to demand
repetition of any laughter-caueing OBJ.
servation with a "What's that ?"
l had not rowed for some time and my
hands we're rather tender, but 1 took 1t
easy and saved them.
It was a calm and glowing evening,
the scenery was that which [ like best,
the conversation Of the ladies was by nc
e of furbelows, as Sinclair had put
it, but clever, natural and interesting,
so that I was enjoying myself thorough
ly and no longer calculated on an early
departure"
t.Are you ticking about books 2" cried
Sinclair from the bows. Mind what
you say, Kate; Jones there is an author
ity."
INO, uO, DUN =, 80
er.on to journalism" 49,,
"Oh, I am so glad that you are a lit.
erary man. I do so really want a good
opinion about a certain book. Miss
Elmer, you must know, is an au'
thoress."
"Oh, no, Kate! !"
"You are, Daisy, and you are a great
deal too difident. Difidence is a great
bar to success, is it not, Mr.. Jones? ?"
SIN my proper profession. the law, il
certainly would be fatal" replied,
laughing. "And I think that in author
ship a little confidence is just as well.
But what is your work, Miss Filmer-a
novel?"
"No, though I am accused OF diff
dence, I was SO ambitious as to write
verses. But I was rightly punished fol
my temerity, and their worthlessness
was fully exposed"
"The most disgraceful, the most un'
manly, cowardly attack that was ever
pepned !" cried Mrs. Sinclair indignant
~. "Some of the poems are beautiful
all show originality and talent; you shall
See them for yourself, MIR. Jones, anG
Judge"
ooh, no, please |" said Miss Filmer,
who looked really distressed.
CT hope you will not refuse me the
pleasure of reading them,D said I.
"She cannot; you shall have my
copy." cried Sinclair from behind me-
I am no Judge of poetry myself, but
thought them capital, and 30 did the
enthusiastically, you know, because he
printed them without making any
charge.
81 am afraid he has lost money, poor
man." sighed the poetess.
"Oh, Miss Filmerl What was the
name of the''review that attacked you ?"
"The Blank Review" replied Mrs.
Sinclair for her friend. "Did you ever
hear of it?" -.
eyes" said I, as c~arelessly as Icould,
but a bit of a lump began to rise IN my
throat; ct have seen the periodical.
Did Miss Elmer publish under her OWL
name?"
emo, she took the non de plume Of
Dora fortunately; I think she would
hardly vel have got over the attack, il
it had not been for the shelter of
pseudonym." 49,.
"Mr. Jones will think mi very thin
skinned" said Miss Finer with a smile;
"but I do not think that I 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 we'll as my work. II
made me feel as if I had done a bold
and unwomanly thing, and certainly
tcured me forever of authorship. Nc
success would compensate one for being
made the subject of such attacks"
If T give you my real name, which o.
course is not Jones, you would recog'
nize the fact that I am not generally
considered deficient in that useful loren.
sic quality-er-suppose we call it brass.
Even in those early days I was not easily
put out of c~ountenance. But or that
occasion I did wish that the bottom Of
the boat would open, and a friendly bar.
bel of whale-like proportions absorb me
quietly.
For once in my life I did feel most
utterly and intolerably ashamed of. my
self. That pretty little, delicate, gentle
girl, so refined, so sensitive-oh ! it was
just as if I had struck a blind man, or
an infantl
"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 q smile thst had q touch of
anxiety in it. And, in truth, trying to
escape from my reflections, and not
aware what I was about, l had set him a
racing stroke, and we were tearing
through the water at a grand pace. I
easied at once, and presently we turned;
I vas 30 thoroughly disc oncerted, how
ever, that I made my blistered 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. It was in
deed the ECHOES of the Heart" which
I had treated so unkindly; but why did
they let her choose such a provok-
ing title? I read every line before 60
ing to bed, and felt more ashamed of
myself as I proceeded. 1t was not merely
the merit of the verses which rebuked
me, though they we're 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. l
passed q bad night over it, but recov-
cred my self-possession in the morning,
and at breakfast expressed 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 a way which prevented
the ladies ever mentioning his libel
again, for fear, as Sinclair told me, lest
I should find ont 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, q 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, I managed to calm myself
down, and tried to make amends by be-
ing as agreeable as I could to the young