The Owosso times., 1882-01-06

letter prompts me to write you reply
not as an assistant editor, but as wO
man like yourself, who is toiling 'uI
the steep path that leads to Parnassus
/ might have known you were :
woman, and young one at that. be
cause, although there is touch Of
masculine strength in your essays ant
poems, still there is, too a sweetness
that is only feminine. think thai
women more often have this favor OF
masculinity than men have of thai
tenderness which is~ essentially and
purely feminine. Were in positior
of authority, 1 should very soon dis
miss the cut-and-dried Underwriters
whose contributions, although smooth
and polished, lack the freshness, the
spontaniety, which is characteristic OF
the contributions we sometimes receive
from unknown writers, and notably
from you. But, you see, am merely
an assistant editor and person of no
consequence at all, except as L am
useful to do the work, all the glory of
which goes to the distinguished indi-
viduals whose names are emblazoned
ut the head Of the paper There! that
sounds better, / am afraid; but, my
dear Miss Bell, the fates have not been
80 kind to me as to you, and it is not
for fame / write, bat for the where
withal to keep me fed and clothed.
What makes it perhaps harder is that
1 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 drier by comparison.
Forgive me for boring You with so
much about myself. Pray write to me
again. Your luxurious stationery,
with FAINT. delicate perfume pervading
it, is itself a delight,
'Sincerely yours,
MISS FRANCES BERTRAM SCREvEN.'
AS ] read this letter I felt myself q
scoundrel. My frst impulse was to
write a letter of confession to, Miss
Screven; but the desire to keep up the
correspondence and try my hand at
composing letters that should besweet-
ly feminine overcame my scruples, and
1 sent off the following reply:
DEAR Miss SCREvEN:-Instead of
boring me, the glimpse you gave rae
of your life interested me more than |
can tell. But, at the same time, the
contrast between your life and mine
made me envious. Perhaps Your lot is
a hard one, but it is at least brave and
independent. Here am L, an only
,petted and spoiled to shame
full degree, and bound by fetters of
luxury. Yes, envy you. Sitting here
this morning in my silly pink-curtained
with Dresden shepherdess
at me from the top of my
/ feel my idle, luxurious life
me and overpowering me, as
the perfume of tuberoses makes heavy
and sickening the atmosphere of a
room that, should be flung open to the
fresh air and sunshine, l would change
places with you to-day if l could
When 1 reached this point of my let
ter, read over approvingly what 1 had
hlllNCu OilC llIlCo uOoSllp
tive Of my imaginary boudoir, smiled
as my glance fell upon boot-jack In
one corner and the shaviAg-apparatus
in another. Glancing at the place
where the Dresden shepherdess ought
to have been, my eye fell instead upon
a pipe, which took down and filed,
and then resumed my writing with con-
siderable complacency:
This may sound to you rather school
girlish, and may as well confess that
it is not many years-perhaps months
would be more accurate-since / left
the precints of a finishing-school. Fin
ishing-school, indeed! Much 1 learned
there besides the art of doing up my
hair! However, the defects of my ed
ucation / must remedy myself, and l
try every day to devote few hours to
serious study. But it is very hard to
seclude myself long enough to accom-
plsh anything. People call; / must
go to garden-parties; Imust drive out
with my mother; 1 must hold solemn
conclave with the milliner and dress
maker; In short, l have constant de-
mands Of q most frivolous nature upon
my time.
All this you will probably laugh at;
and, lest / write more fOolishly, l will
bring this letter to close. If you are
not quite disgusted with me, do write
again soon.
Faithfully yours,
JANE BELL
/ may as we'll confess that L thought
this letter successful imitation of
the epistles that / had myself received
from feminine hands. 1t sounded en-
thusiastic and very 'missish, and sent
it off that afternoon with a bold heart.
jack quoth my. uncle, who met me
as 1 came from the post-office, Il verify
believe you are making an ass of your.
self over some girl. l don't believe il
is the muses. you are counting; it Is .
miss And with this he passed on
chuckling at his own wit.
AS the days went on, however, my
uncle's words seemed in, a fair way to
prove true. 1 thought only of Miss
Screven. My novel I left untouched
and my rhymipg dictionary accumulat
ed dust slowly. Fled were my visions
of astonishing the world with my
genius. 1 lived only for the mail from
Boston.
As re-read the letters I received
from Miss Screven, / can make som,
excuse for my infatuation. They wer'
frank and outspokeR, and -sometimes
indeed, tinged with cynicisrh; but
through them there abreathed sym
pathy, tenderness, that touches m,
even now as / read them over. Final
ly, at my solicitation, she sent me hel