The Vancouver independent. (Vancouver, W.T. [Wash.]) 1875-1910, 1882-01-12

in a position of authority, should very
soon dismiss the cut and-dr hack
writer's whose contributions, although
smooth aud polished, lack the freshness,
the spontaniety, which is characteristic
of the contributions we sometimes re-
ceive from unknown writer's, and notably
from you. But, as you see, am merely
an assistant editor, and person of no
consequence at all, except as am useful
to do the work, all the glory of which
goes to the distinguished individuals
whose names are emblazoned at the head
of the paper. Therel That sounds bet
ter, am afraid; bnt, my dear Miss
Bell, the fates have not been so kind to
me as to You, and it is not for fame I
write, but for the ~herewithal to keep
me fed and clothed. What makes it per-
haps harder is that have known what it
is to have my bread and butter fresh and
sweet-ay, and honey with it, too-and
therefore the thin slices that are doled
out to me now taste the drier by compar-
ison.
Forgive me for boring you with so
again. Your luxurious stationery, with
idiut, uellcdbo peTlumc perNduluS IL, 10
in itself delight. Sincerely yours,
miss FRANCES BBRTRAM SoREvEN."
As read this letter I felt myself a
scoundrel. Ny first impulse was to
write letter of confession to Miss
Screven; but the desire to keep up the
correspondence and try my hand at COM
posing letters that should be sweetly
feminine overcame my scruples, and l
sent off the following reply:
"DEAR Miss ScREvEN. of
boring me, the glimpse you gave me of
your life interested me more than l can
tell. But, at the same time, the con-
trast between your life and mine made
me envious. Perhaps your lot is a hard
one, but it is at least brave and indie
pendent. Here am /, an only daughter,
petted and spoiled to shameful degree,
and bound by letters of luxury. Yes, l
envy you. Sitting here this morning in
my silly, pink-curtained boudoir, with
Dresden shepherdess simpering at me
from the top of my escrotoire, feel my
idle, luxurious life hemming me and
overpowering me, as the perfume of
tuberoses makes heavy and sickening the
atmosphere of room that should be
flung open to the fresh air and sunshin
1 would change places with you to-day if
I could"
When 1 reached this point of my let
ter, I read over approvingly what l had
written. Arrived at the lines descrip-
tive of my boudoir, I smiled as my
glance fell upon boot-jack in one cor
ner and the shaving apparatus in an
other. CHANGING at the place where the
Dresden shepherdess ought to have been
my eyes fell instead upon pipe, which
I took down and filled and then resumed
my writing with considerable compla-
cency:
'This may sound to you rather school
girlish, and 1 may as we'll confess that it
is not many years-perhaps months
would be more accurate-since left the
precincts of finishing school. Finish
ing school, indeed! Much I learned
there beside the art of doing up my
hairl However, the defects Of my edu-
cation / must remedy myself, and try
every day to devote few hours to seri-
Gus study. But it is very hard to seclude
myself long enough to accomplish any
self. People call; must go to garden
parties; must drive out with my mother;
I must hold solemn conclave with my
milliner and dress maker; in short.
have constant demands of most frivo-
lous nature upon my time.
"All this you will probably laugh at I;
and lest write you more toolishly yet,
will bring this letter to a close. If you
are not quite disguised with me, do
write soon again.
Faithfully yours,
JANE BELL"
may as we'll confess that thought
this letter successful imitation of some
of the epistles that had myself received
from feminine hands. 1t sounded enthu-
siastic and the very "missish," and
sent it off that afternoon with bold
heart.
Jack, "quoth my uncle, who met me
as came from the postofiice. II verify
believe you are making an ASS Of your
self over some girl. don't believe it is
the muses. you are counting; it is no
muse: it is o miss" And with this he
passed on, chuckling to himself at his
own wit.
As the days went on, however, my
uncle's words seemed in fair way to
prove true. l thought only of Miss
6creven. My novel left untouched,
and my rhyming dictionary accumulated
dust slowly, but surely. Fled were my
visions OF astonishing the world with
my genius. / lived only for the mail
from Boston.
As re.read the letters received from
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