The Arkansaw traveler., 1886-02-06

linR cal tAa insinsac weahness of ny fl kisaas writings and tho sksechiness of Ais characters; there vas jesking dis ccorse, which laughed at the public tor having taken seriously what was only worth a passing thought; there were other papers in other styles The sub stance of all was the same, but the forms were different and each, as wrote it, addressed to the magazine for which 1t vas most suited, among those to which l was an accepted contTiSator.
 did this work without pause or hesi- tation. When 1t was done 1 had my breakfast, packed up my portmanteau. and departed. posted my productions en route, paid flying visit to my lodg- ings, and took the earliest train to Dover. My next letter to Alison was dated from Paris told her that had been sud denly obliged to go abroad on busiHess, that should travel from place to place, and that could not at present give her any address to write to.
 | My great desire at that time was to get out of the reach of letters and mag galines, IL my papers were printed, 1t must be without any proof correction from me. was determined to have nothing more to
 
 hands again, it could only be to renew the old struggle, which l hoped to have concluded forever.
 When next saw Alison more than three months had passed away. had written to her several times, but always when on the point of changing my quar- ters, and had taken care to avoid giving any instructions for the forwarding ot lei, ters. lfthis thing had to be done, let 1t bs done iTvetrievably before l had any more knowledge of it.
 1 spoke to Alison ip my brief letters of much business and travel in which was involved and spoke tru,htully, for 1 had chosen to absorb myself In an ex. haustive study of certain districts on the continent. on which, with their people and their history, had been invited to write a series of papers.
 "l cannot create" wrote to her, with ghas,ly effort to be playful, but can at least amass; and am trying hard to lay the foundation of some future tame before come back to you. This sort of iTavehng will be out of the question for you, and after we are married shall not like to do 1t alone"
 When had actually started on my re- turn journey, telegraphed the time al which expected to arrive at home, and on reaching my London lodgings found a note from Alison awaiting me. It was very brlef, and only stated where she was to be found but l guessed from the tone of 1t that something was wrong, and that she had some revelation to make.
 When actually stood before her, she looked very pale and sad. The mourn ing which she wore for her brother before went away had no, been changed for anything brighter; it had not even been modified. She listened to my greetings quietly, and then sat down, clAsping her hands in the intensity of some emotion,
 want to tell you" she said, "of something dreadful that has happened since you went away" and then l knew that the thing had been done, and tha, my wild Shots had not missed thelt mark. A heap of papers and magazines lay beside her she took them up nov, and began to hnger them in an agitated man. neT.
 "Some one," she said, mas done a wicked thing-some one who must have hated my brother, and been aBgry that justice had been done him at last. Soc p she went on, ,sholding the papers toward me, every one of them contains some thing written against hts books."
 took them from her and was glad to hold my head down, examining them As turned ovz the pages rapidly, pes- ceived that the writing ip question was all mine. Some af it had been ahbrevi- ated, some a little altered, the editors ha ting taken the responsibility of cor. rectiou in my abscAce Ono little essay. light and aaTcAsttc In tone, had evidently fallen In altogether with tho editorial mosd It had becn polished to koones intensity Of mocking evil, and some very sharp strokes of severity had been added to t.
 "What is 90 srange,' said Alison, in her low, treubied voice, - is, that people believe those wicked things. know they do. can seo It by the way they begin to look at me, as if they weFo lit tle sorry, but it did not matter much. They arc not interested as they were be- fore, and glad to talk of my brother they just look at mo for a moment In an observing sor1 of manner, and then turn away. The most they will now say is, What pity your brother died % young as if he did not do enough to make his fame firys
 "You must be mistaken" answered, still turning over the leaves. and wondsr Ing how could have thought of 70 much severe cridcism in one night "such a change cannot take place all ., once"
 "Yet It has; and oh how have wished for you 10 come back and do something My friends talk 10 me, and say that my brothers lame had not bcen established long enough to rcsis, this as- tack that your praise of him had started IL; and that now every one remem oers that yos were his particular friend. No body cared for his writing, really-thats what they try 10 tell me in oth@ words, to make me patient, bat people we've ashamed of not seeming to rare wAsa they beard that he WIS = clever. and