Fisherman & farmer. [volume] (Edenton, N.C.) 1887-19??, 1888-07-13

tunate ones, for the editor was extremely
fastidious, and inferior articles never
appeared in his columns, consequently
the aspirants TO the heights of excellence
contained in that paper were kept IN
continued and decidedly uncomforta-
bic state of suspense regarding their
articles.
One there was among the number that
particularly pleased the young editor. a
sket short and lively and interesting,
interspersed with plenty of dialogue,
the language beautiful and fowery, the
sentiment tender and pure, and that was
unhesit atingly accepted.
A new writer, it seemed, and the rather
euphOnious nom de plume of ''Pansy
Blossom was given, the real name Mil
lie Mckay, and the editor repeated it to
himself musingly.
She was evidently writer of ability,
and he would ust write her little note
of acceptance, with a request, also, that
she would become regular contributor
to the paper.
Then he thrust it into an envelope and
laid it beside another undirected wrap
per which contained the little poem with
the fateful words, mot available, s"
branded upon its first page.
1t was almost dinner time and editors,
as well as more commonplace mortals,
feel the cravings of appetite. Herman
Seville began to think Of the wants of
his inner man; then his thoughts went
back to the sentimental note he had writ
ten to the girl he loved, and glancing at
the first lines, that there should be no
mistake, he placed that also i'll an en-
velope.
Just then the telephone set up such a
jabbering that he sprang up and answered
a message; then he directed those letters
and mailed them on his way to dinner.
And, as he seated himself at the hotel
table, and a trit1e impatiently, perhaps,
awaited the filling of the bill of fare, he
had the calm self consc: Ousness of having
done a big stroke of business.
Yes, he had really done much more
than he gave himself credit for.
That same evening he called at the
home of Ethel Vinton, the young lady to
whom he had that forenoon penned such
tender little note.
He was to be her escort TO an opera,
and the anticipation of spending the
evening by her side was very pleasing.
His surprise, therefore, may be imagined
when, instead of his charmer, he found
note awaiting him. he had decided
not to attend the opera, and the maid
handed him a letter. All! that would
doubtless explain Perhaps the dear girl
was i'll; and with that regretful thought,
the editor consigned the note to a breast
pocket in the immediate region of his
heart. Then he went back to his
sanctum.
A lady, tall and angular with her
head and face enveloped in a bright,
green veil, that quite enshrouded her
features, arose from his Office chair as he
entered, with bow which did credit to
her early training. Then, in precise and
measured words. she proceeded to ex-
press her qualification at being at last
appreciated. That her little poem must
be success she had been confident, and
she was delighted at his request. Ger
taInly, she would furnish poem week
ly, on any sub. .ect, in any style of verse,
and Of any desired length.
cit was so easy for her to rhyme" she
said, and she threw back the folds of
vivid green that had concealed her face,
and revealed the thin, lank visage of a
maiden of forty-five summers.
She had a sallow complexion, her
piercing black eyes were small and gilt
tering, and about her temples she wore
short, cOrkscrew curls that bobbed up
and do wn in her earnestness.
Her gaze was fixed upon the editors
face, and he seemed quite mystitied re
garding her meaning; but when at last
she paused for breath. he gave utteranCe
to his thoughts.
'My dear madame" he said, concilia-
tingly, as the elderly aspirant for poetic
fame stepped expectantly forward, 81
think there must be a mistake
How, or where the mistake had been
made he was still at loss to determine.
"a mistaken" exclaimed the woman,
in high-pitched tone. How can it
be? You needn't deny that you wrote
this; your own name is signed to it; "
and she held before him the note which
he had written to Mile Mckay, the &C
ceptance of her sketch, the request that
she should become a regular contributor.
Yes, there at the bottom of the page
was his name, but the address on the
envelope was to Meh!table Smith.
''The dickens. What have l done?"
Herman Seville e CALCULATED, and he drew
from his breast pocket the note win CHI he
had been so impatient to read; the pre-
cious note that was to explain why rthel
Vinton had refused to attend the OEe a
in his company. The wrapper only en-
closed his own note to Ethel, but inside
Of it instead of the tender sentiments
which he had written, was Mehitable
Smiths poem, the mot available" and
he passed it to the indignant lady.
went on, alphabetically. "This, madam,
I i