The Corvallis gazette. [volume] (Corvallis, Or.) 1862-1899, 1885-09-04
A STORY OF A BOOK.

fitude of companions which pour into
Che world every year, little ones like
me are forgotten.
Every one knows what the outside
of book is-red, yellow, green or
purple in color, lettered IN silver, let
tered in red, oblong and square, fat
and thin. Every book has some shade
of difference, which may distinguish
1T 1t is true we come in tribes-by
hundreds after one pattern-and lately
the most popular cover or dress book
can wear is paper lettered with black,
and the letters stretched across the
cover, and are not at the back of the
volume, as used to be the case.
Where do we all come from?
Whittier are we going? are ques tions
which think I may ask, without rum
:uIng the risk of beng thought vain.
know where came from-that is,
the heart and core of me; and 1 wish,
as L said before, to relate my history.
I must go back some way to get to the
beginning of things, and that begin
ming takes me to a dull, dreary lodg-
ing In dull. dreary back street in
London. 1 was born there. When
the baby was asleep in the cradle,
WHICH SuO 1uSOeiuu WI d" dI LIS
work in the postoffice, when-notice
6his-the last stocking was mended-
my author would get out an old case,
and with smile on her lips, dip the
pen into the ink and let me grow
under her hand.
She was very happy when she was
making me the vehicle in her thoughts
l>riorht fh0r1ofc
and whatever merit l possess came
from her. who told out her thoughts
on the lined paper, and made me.
She kept this work of hers secret.
Sometimes I heard her telling her
baby that mother was writing a story
that, perhaps, when it was published,
it would make her fortune-and then,
OH the joys that would come-the
country home instead of furnished
gooms, the flowers and the brightness,
<tlike my old, old home, baby!''
And little by little l grew, and the
old case was full, and at last l was
finished. Rather this first part of my
Gfe-my best part-was over. Then
came many journey for me. As l
was born in London, from whence
books are all sent out into the world,
L was not committed to the post, but
my dear author would tie me up neat
4y. and tuck me under her arm and
set forth with me.
She would wait patiently to see
some great pundit who was to pro.
uouHce on my merits. She was SO
anxious about my fate that l could
feel her heart beating, as she waited
with me, and even when she received
%me back tear dropped upon me, and
L often heard ner say:
81 must give you up, my poor little
book; you have no chance among
thousands. of course not. I was so
silly to think SO. 1 will not try any
more"
But she did try 1t again, and 1 was
received. had been received before,
but now 1 was unrolled and read.
When my dear author came back to
'aear my doom, the man who had me
taid his hand upon ME and said:
-'This Isl nice story; it is not a
uovel and yet is full of interest. I
wlll undertake to publish it.''
N4Will you pay for 1t?'' she asked.
%EWell, no; l will. bring it out. and if
you deposit thirty pounds, will share
the profits If it succeeds" q
Il can not pay you any money!"
Qyas the answer in low tone, ''for |
have none. / want money from vou."
The publisher stroked his beard; he
aad long beard. for it tickled me as
ne bent over me.
<@My dear young lady, that is always
the cry of young authors; but the har-
sest is not reaped directly the seed is
sown. You must be patient"
<tGive my story back to me-" my
author said in trembling voice. 81
1an not let you have it for nothing"
L was being rolled up, and thick
elastic band clicked over ME, when an
1ther voice was heard:
MIR. Best, let me speak with you a
moment"
Then was laid down on the table,
and could hear the s1ghs of my dear
author as she sat near me.
After few minutes. the gentleman
with the beard came back, and a
younger gentleman with him.
eve think, madame, we will under
Bake to publish this book, and-pay
You ten pounds on the day of issue.
The truth is my partner thinks highly
IF it; forgive me, more highly than [
10, and by his desire make you this
'affer."
So I was left on the table, then
drown into deep drawer, from
whence was taken one morning and
torn assunder.
A small part of me was sent off to
che printers, being first marked by the
aand of some one who read me.
Very soon after my arrival at the
1rinfor,S nffiop NV fair ,oanos uoro
snleared with black fingers. and was
set up before man with a pair
IF keen eyes, and I heard him
aiutter:
.sPlain writing for once, that's a
a1ercv-a woman's too.
Then another voice called out:
3.You are lucky. l have been puz-
zling over this sentence for an hour;
can't make head or tail of it, while
another grumbled: