The Warner sun. (Warner, Brown Co., Dakota [S.D.]) 1885-1???, 1888-07-27
A STORY OF A .


/ should like to tell nv story. for
it seems to me that in the great null
titude of companions which pour into
the world every year, little ones like
me are forgotten.
Every one knows what the outside
Of a hook 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
It. 1t is true we come in tribes-by
hundreds after n pattern-and lately
the most popular cover or dress a 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 fromP
Whittier r we goingp are ques tions
which | think / may ask, without run
ming the risk of being thought vain.
know where / came from-that is,
the heart and core Of me; and / wish,
as | said before, to relate my history.
| 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 a dull, dreary back street in
London. / was born there. When
the baby was asleep in the cradle,
when the husband was away at his
work in the postoffice, when-notice
this-the last stocking was mended-
my author would get out an old case,
open sundry sheets Of lined paper,
and with a 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
pure, bright thougts they were
and whatever merit / possess came
from her. who told out her thoughts
on the lined paper, and made me.
She kept this work of hers a secret
Sometimes / 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
rooms, the flowers and the brightness,
'like my old, old home. babyp'
And little by little / grew, and the
old case was full. and at last l was
finished. Rather this first part of my
life-my best part-was over. Then
came many a journey for me. AS ]
was born in London, from whence
books are all sent out into the world,
/ was not committed to the post, but
my dear author would tie me up neat
", and tuck me under her arm and
set forth with ME.
She would wait patiently to see
some great pundit who was to pro-
nouHce on my merits. She was SO
anxious about my fate that | could
feel her heart beating, as she waited
with me, and even when she received
me back a tear dropped upon me, and
/ often heard her say;
Il must give you up, my poor little
book; you have no chance among
thousands, of course not. / was SO
silly to think so. ] will not try any
MORE
But she did try 1t again. and I was
received. had been received before,
bat now / was unrolled and read.
When my dear author came back TO
hear my doom, the man who had me
laid his hand upon me and said:
This Isl nice story; it is not a
novel and yeti I is full Of interest. |
VIII undertake to publish 1t.
evil you pay for ltPn she asked.
ssNell, no; / will bring it ont, and II
you deposit thirty pounds. / will share
the profits If it SUCCEEDS
II a not pay you any money, :,
was the answer in a low tone, ''for /
have none. / want money from you.''
The publisher stroked mis- beard; he
had a long beard, forit tickled me as
he bent over me.
ssMy dcGr young lady, thatis always
the CRY of young authors; but the har-
vest is not Yeaped directly the seed is
sown. You must be patient.
s'Give my story back to me-" my
author said in a trembling voice. II
Fan not let you haze il for nothing =
! was being rolled up, and 9 thick
elastic band clicked over me, when an
other voice was heard:
-Ar. Best, lct me speak with you a
moment.
Then / was laid down on the table,
and ! could hear the sighs of my dear
author al she sat near me.
After q few minutes, tbs gentleman
with the beard came back, and q
Younger gentleman with him.
ave think. medame, we will under
take to publish this book, and--pay
you ten pounds on the day of icsue.
The truth IS ms partner thinks hlSh1y
Of it: forgive me, more highly than ]
10, ard 81 his desire I make yod this
Dffer.n
So + was Left on the table, then
thrown into a deep DRIVER, from
whence Z was taken one morning and
torn assnnder.
A small part of me was sept of to
The printers. being first mgrkAd BIZ the
hand q scmeg0 zone who readsme.
Very soon after my arrival at the
printers Office nay fair cages were
smeared with black dn9eys and / was
set up before a man with q pair
Of keen eyes. and | hoard him
mutter;
'sPlain writing for once, that's q
meTcy--a woman too"
Then another voice called out:
"Yoa are lpekY 1 have been pun,
cling over this sentence for an hour
can't make head or tail Of ii, while
another gFnmbled;