The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1879-12-25
ONE LITERARY VENTURE.


A cool, frosty October morning with
sun shining in spotless, sapphire sky,
and delicious, gentle western wind blow:
ing the crimson and bronze, russet and
golden, leaves in tropical -hued showers.
Grace Eayne walked slowly along the
country road, toward the little red school
house, where, as teacher over the forty
scholars who comprised the winter class,
she was earning her own living, and sup
porting her invalid mother and little Sis
ter. -,
She was fair, womanly looking girl,
with sweet, regular features and thought
full eyes, that were this especial morning
wearing an expression of mutual visit
fiIness, as she walked through the fra.
grant, fallen leaves, her skirts rustling
over them with little musical sound.
And the reason why was, that q question
was bothering Grace's brains that has
bothered many wiser. and older head
than hers-the question of how to man.
age her financial affairs so that both ends
would meet. For the finances was not
only the question Grace had to settle, but
the wherewithaIs she had to earn as well
and of late days it had come rather start
lingly home TO her that cratic of ne
cessaries imperatively demanded, and the
money to buy; them with, were In an
alarmingly inverse proportion.
Sc, walking along to her daily duties,
beneath such q glorionsly blue sky, this
fair-faced, ,loveiy-eyed girl, who would
have gracsd any position with her rare
gentleness, and modest refinement, and
sweet womaniiness, was yexing her soul
with fearful doubts as to how she could
possibly contriye to get Lily her thick
boots for the winter so near at hand, and
{ the warm, woolly fannels that must be
had, whether or no, for the delicate little
mother.
There was not q thought of self in all
Grace's planning one thought of her
shabby wardrobe. All was for the dear
ones for whom she was 80 glad and eager
towork, the best she could.
Somehow the yexed question was no
nearer being settled than ever when Grace
reached the school house door, and un-
Iockedit, with Just 9 faint, little th.ill, at
the days weary ordeal ahead of her, yet
smiling cheerily as the earliest scholar,
her most incorrigible, came-came shut
fling up the aisle, intent on reading from q
torn piece of newspaper, and only look
ing up. at her pleasant greeting, and
question as to what had 30 interested
him. -
In after days, Grace thought what q
fate there was in it--in Rob McCoy's ea-
ger, clumsy answer:
sIts q bully old story, ] tell you
Pretty near as good as what you kin tell,
Miss Layne. Say, why don't you have
them stories of youPn printed, SOS we kin
read 'em over'n over~
True to her teacher instinct, Grace
grayely and gently corrected Rob's lapses
in grammer, pronunciation and manner.
And then, sudden rushing all through
her veins told her the deep, sudden hold
his eager question had taken on her.
HHave her stories printed"-those
pleasant, little half-hour recreation sto-
ries, which she gave her pupils every
Friday afternoon, as a sort Of reward for
their weeks well.doipg. "Print them,"
as Rob rudely put it, in other words.
Could she, oh, dare she hope she might
have them published if she wrote them
And, for one exquisite, dazzling mo-
ment, Grace Layne realized that there
was solution to her vexed question
that there was opened before her glori-
GUS vista, at the end of which was any
abundance of warm, cosy fannels and
thick, comfortable boots.
That was how it came to her; and
twenty-four hours later there was neat
package of manuscript lying in the viii
liage postofice, addressed, in Grace's
bold round hand, to the editor of. the
Plume PArgent, with modest little note,
saying that the smallest sum would be
gladly accepted for it..
The days of waiting began then, that
are SO long, so full of alternations of hopes
and fears, of doubts and uncertainties
Days when Grace wondered at her pre-
sumption in ever supposing there was the
slightest literary ability about her; when
she was ready to despise herself for max
ing her hopeless attempt. = -
And other days, when she did not de-
preciate herself SO, and almost felt ready
to be sure of an answer, and favorable
answer, when she paid her afternoon visit
to the village postofice, where the jolly
grocer who kept it used to chaff her be-
cause her @beau" vas so dilatory in his
love-letters.
By-and-by, there came letter, in an
envelope bearing the legend in one upper
corner, "Regamy & Willard, Plume d'Ar-
gent office, New York City," and Grace
went almost blindly from the postofice
to the deserted little school-room, to learn
her success or her defeat in the fight with
fate.
And then little cry of thanksgiving
went up from her quiyering lips as first
there fiuttered from the letter ten-dollar
greenback.
And then great estate gladness went
thrilling all over her as she read the
short note, which asked for story, SIM
liar in style and subject matter, every
week until further notice, at the same
price.
And as Grace walked home through the
October dusk, her eyes were shining like
stars for very happiness.
X X II
The sanctum sanctorum of the Plume
PArgent was q tasteful, cosy place, with
the winter sunlight streaming in on the
crimson -carpeted floor, lighting up with
ayivid warmth the'pictures on the walls.
the few excellent bronzes, the handsome
walnut furniture, upholstered in crimson
leather, the tall, intelligently-flled book
: cases, and-the handsome head of MIR.
BERTHE Willard, the Junior member of the
firm of publishers and editors.
AT tie extreme end of the room
was another desk, at which sat an older
gentleman, of fine, stern face, and grave,
almost forbidding, manner. but who
turned partially round in his revolving
desk.chair, as Mr.. Willard's voice rang
suddenly out:- +.
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