Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1888-11-01
beauteous c1ay-no1d

or the k1ndest thing to do For, to the
living, more especially to the young, the
| sight Of death is horrible It is such a
| fearsome comment on their health and
strength. Youth and strength are merry;
but who can be merry with yon dead thing
in the upper chamber? Take it away!
| thrust it under groundl it is an insult to
US: it reminds US that we, too, die like 9TH
ers. What business has its pallor to show
itself against our rudy cheeks?
81 beg your pardon" whispered Angus
ia, realizing something of all this in a
fash. 81 forgot; you do not know-you
must be shocked Forgive mer'
''Who is it," he said, gasping to get back
his breath.
try and save her life that I wanted the
money When I told her that could not
get it she gave up and died. Your uncle
killed her. Gomez
Greatly shocked, he followed her back
into the sitting room, and then-as soon as
! he got lis composure- apologized for hay
| ing intruded himself upon her in such an
hour Of desolation.
| 81 am glad to see you" she said simply;
81 have seen nobody except the doctor
| once and the undertaken twice It is
so face with the irretrievable If I had
not been so foolish as to enter into that
agreement with Aessrs. Meeson I could
have got the money by selling my new
| book easily enough, and I should have
been able to take JEANNE abroad, and I
believe that she would have lived-at least
hope so. But now is is finished and can
| not be helped
II wish had KNOWN bIundered Eus-
tace. II could have lent you the money.
I have hundred and fifty pounds"
''You are very good" she answered,
| gently, ''but it is no use talking about it
now, it is finished"
| Then Eustace rose and went away, and
| it was not till he found himself in the
street that he remembered that he had
never asked Augusta what her plans were.
| Indeed, the sight of poor JEANNE had put
| everything else out of his head. How
! ever, he consoled himself with the refiec-
ton that he could call again week or ten
| days after the funeral.
Two days later Augusta followed the
remains of her dearly-loved sister to their
last resting place, and then came home on
foot, (for she was the only mourner) and
| sat in her black gown before the little fire
and reflected upon her position. What
was she to do? She could not stay in these
rooms It made her heart ache every time
| that her eyes fell upon the empty sofa Cp-
| posite, dinted as it was with the accus-
| toned weight Of poor Jeannie's frame.
| Where was she to so, and what was she
| to do? She might get literary employ
ment, but then her agreement with Messrs.
Aeeson stared her in the face. That
| agreement was very widely drawn. 1t
bound her to offer all literary work Of any
sort that might come from her pen during
! the next five years to Messrs. Meeson at
| the fixed rate Of seven per cent. on the
| published price. Obviously, as it seemed
to her, though perhaps enormously, this
clause might be stretched to include even
a newspaper article; and she knew the
malignant nature of Mr.. Meeson well
enough to be quite certain that, if posi-
bic, that would be done. It was true she
might manage to make d bare living out
of her work, even at the beggarly pay of
| seven per cent; but Augusta was q person
of spirit, and she was determined that she
would rather starve than that Meeson
should again make huge profits out of her
! labor. This avenue being closed to her,
she turned her mind elsewhere; but, look
where she might, the prospect was equally
dark
Augustus remarkable literary success
had not been of much practical advantage
to her, for in this country literary success
does not mean SO much as it does in some
Others AS g matter of fact, indeed, the
average Briton has, at heart, considera-
BILE contempt, if not for literature, at least
for those who produce it. Literature, in
his mind, is connected with the idea of
garrets and extreme poverty; and. there
fore, having the national respect for money,
he in secret, if not in public, despises it, A
tree is known by its fruits, says he Let
a man succeed at the Bar, and he makes
! thousands upon thousands year, and is
promoted to the highest offices in the
State. Let man succeed in art, and he
will be paid one or two thousand pounds
apiece for his most ''pot-boiIery'' por-
traits. But your literary men-why, with
a few fortunate EXCEPTIONS the best of
them barely make a living. What can lit
erature be worth if a man can't make a
fortune out of it? So argues the Priton-
no doubt with some of his sound conmon
sense. Not that he has no respect for
genius. All men bow to true genius, even
when they fear and envyit But he thinks
a good deal more of genius dead than gen.
Jus living. However this may be, there is
no doubt that if through any causa-such,
for instance, as the sudden discovery by
the great and highly civilized American
people that the seventh commandment
was probably intended to apply to authors
amongst the rest of the world-the pecun-
larry rewards Of literary labor Sho uld be
put more upon an equality with those of
other trades, hterature-as a profession
will go up many steps in popular esteem.
At present, if a member of a. family has
betaken himself to the high and honorable
calling for, surely, it is both) of letters,
frie nos and relations are apt to talk about
him in shy and diffident, not to say apol-
ogetic, way; much as they would had he
adopted another sort of bookmaking as a
means of livelihood.
Thus it was that, Notwithstanding her
success, Augusta had nowhere to turn in
her difficulty. She had absolutely no lit
erary connection. Nobody had called upon
her or sought her out in consequence of
her book. One or two authors in London,
and a few unknown people from different
| parts of the country and abroad, had writ
| ten to her-that was all. Had she lived
| in town it might have been different; but,
unfortunately for her, she did not.
| The more she thought the less clear did
| her path become, until, at last, she got an
| inspiration. Why not leave England al
| together? She had nothing to keep her
here. She had a cousin-a clergyman-in
| New Zealand, whom she had never seen,
| and who had read Terminals Vow," and
written her kind letter about it. That
was the one delightful thing about writing
| bookstore made friends all over the
| world. Surely he would take her in for a