Barbour County index. [volume] (Medicine Lodge, Kan.) 1880-current, 1890-08-13

Another time built whole town in
the air on the strength of letter from
the publisher who has helped and guided
me on my literary career, and has paid
for my maiden efforts with the gener-
osity of rich uncle. ''Can you spare
time to run up and see me tomorrow"
he wrote; Il should like to speak to you."
Ireplied by return of post that would
be with him at noon next day, and went
to bed speculating. Was he going to
commission me to do three-volume
novel? Hardly probable; even to my
capacity of bolief, that didn't seem
likely. Then, as i pondered over the
riddle, suddenly solved it to my own
complete satisfaction. Jones, that pub
lisher's sub-editor. had been looking
seedy lately; he'd got a nasty cough,
and had complained of his eyes. 1t was
as plain as pike-staff; Jones had been
pensioned, and / was to succeed him.
Now, what salary should ask? Jones
got six hundred pounds, knew.
couldn't expect so much as that, but /
would ask four hundred, and take three
IL were offered it. / could manage
very nicely on three hundred pounds
year. Lodgings in Charlotte Square,
and-and-then perhaps l might ven
ture to speak to the then cher" To ac-
ceptance and marriage was brief step,
and having settled it all fell asleep.
Next morning went up to my publish
er's Office, and as wiped my boots on
the door-mat / resolved to take the sub
edltorship at two-ifty.
When got in, the publisher said: 81
thought I'd ask you to come and see me
about that last little thing of yours.
There are some excellent points in it,
some excellent points; but I'm afraid
I'm afraid
forgot how got outside again.
The habit is chronic, and incurable as
consumption. Twenty years ago, an
aunt of mine said something to me about
and casual; any sensible fellow would
have forgotten it ten minutes afterward.
didn't; ! weighed the remark, and
turned it about; and having, as sup
posed, accurately outlined the train Of
thought that gave it words, drew the in
ference that was to be her heir. / put
that inference away in corner of my
mind, and whenever l was hard up or in
the blues, pulled it out and furnished
it up, and got consolation and comfort
from it. That aunt died the other day;
but my name wasn't even mentioned in
her will. And yet, a week ago, because
another aunt said something of the same
kind, am at it again! drawing inferen-
ces and deductions which range from
fifty-pound legacy to the dear old lady's
entire fortune. know oughtn't to do
it. But l was born with this hopeful
nature, and suppose shall die with it.
/ trust, however, that may outgrow the
habit, for it has done me little good un-
til now.
And yet l don't know. When the
Present treats you hardly, and the Past
has not been kind, is it not we'll to cozen
the Future into promising better things,
if it gives you courage to press forward?
have been wrong all my life, and that
is poor reason for thinking / shall be
right at last. But leave me Hope as
long as she will stay. Let me bury "the
might-have-beens' out of Memory's
sight and borrow what / can from may
be-" This habit of inferriEg is one of
Hopes children; thriftless child at
best; but its mother will die one day, so
let me nurse the child. 1t will bring
forth only disappointments; but they,
when they are many, are short-lived,
with little power to pain.-Chamber's
Journal.