The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1884-01-17
The Unfinished Manuscript.

Literary men have, somehow, re
ceived kind of social black eye; that
is, no one believes that they are quite as
good husbands or as good fathers as
they should be; and, from the observa-
tory of casual view, this is correct
Few people know to what extremities
literary men are reduced. Few, very
few indeed, know how they court the
so-called muse of inclination. The
man who handles the drawing knife or
plane can, if he be in good physical
condition. do his work creditably; but
the literary man, though he be in ro-
bust health, and though he may not
have an ache or PAIN, is frequently
unable to do acceptable work. This is
curious freak which no student of
metaphysics can explain, for the mind
of man, although it is constantly be-
coming clearer and more capable of
comprehension, is still something
which Newton cannot define, nor
Bacon perfectly explore. A mans
mind seems to have but little to do
with his affections, for, although his
heart may be warm, his words are
sometimes cold.
Il want you to go to bed said Mr..
Mecklamore, the well-known novelist,
to his little girl. every night when L
sit down to work you persist in snort
ing around. Go to bed; I've got work
to do"
"She can't understand you,' said
Mrs. Mecklamore; Il don't think that
she is we'll"
She's always i'll when / want to
work. She seems to study the time
What do you want to snort that way
for? You are enough to drive man
crazy"
Robert, I don't think the little girl
can help it," the wife replied. "She is
too young to know anything about the
importance of your work.
"Well it's time she was learning"
the author exclaimed, turning, with an
angry air. "Other people can work
without interruption. don't see why 1
should be imposed on. I'll go down
town, 1 can write there without inter-
ruption,' and he gathered up his pa
pers and left the house.
Quietly, and without interruption, he
worked for several hours. Occasion
ally, when his mind was deep in the
molding of a character, he would see
little anxious face, and hear an excla-
nation of gladness; but he waved aside
the vision and worked on. Late at
night boy came with note. The mes
sage ran:
Il am very uneasy about Dora; L
think she has the diphthe,ia."
My work is done for tonight he
unused; and, arranging his papers with
a discontinued air, he went home. He
found the doctor there. The little suf-
ferer smiled at him when he entered
She tried to say something. but ~papa's
come" was all he could understand
An unfinished manuscript stared at
him.
as it very violent attack" he
asked of the physician.
ayes, very
The mother sat on the edge of the
bed The father approached. He could
not see the lines of the manuscripts now.
The little girl choked, and they lifted
her up. The father put his arm under
her head. The unfinished manuscript
was dim.
"She has been ailing for several
days." said the mother, "but we did not
think there was anything serious the mat
ter with her. She has been so gay and
SO full of frolic that we didn't think
anything could all her."
The sufferer looked at her father and
tried to speak, but failing, she put her
hand into his and smiled. The unfin-
ished manuscript was dim. With q
struggle she said:
"Am | bad%
"No, angel" whispered the father.
"Do you want me to go to bed?"
mo darling" The unfinished man
uscript was fading more and more.
4She is past all help" the doctor
said.
The mother hid her face in the win
dow curtain. The father took her in his
arms. She looked at him and was dead.
The unfinished manuscript had faded.
-1'eCdS SUtings.