Ellsworth American. [volume] (Ellsworth, Me.) 1855-current, 1891-02-19

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pen lay idle. In vain her parents and
friends expostulated with her, in vain her
| own earnest efforts.
1t is useless to try" she would say,
| MY genius has failed me"
1t did not greatly grieve her seemingly.
Her days were rarely idle, there was so
much work to be done. A dear lover (
| the society of her fellow beings. she
there was vacancy in her life, and in the
effort to Ill that vacancy with other work
and cares she became worn aud weary
An invitation from an old school friend
to spend the summer at her coun-
try home was eagerly accepted, and She
FASTENED there with the vague hope that
the country air and the companionship Of
nature would restore her lost art But
the long dreamy days were drawing to a
close and there was no change.
why 80 sad and torlorn. fair madden
The low. laughing voice aroused her. aud
she lifted her eve. to the merry face above
her
Il was thinking-ho~ disappointed |
am had hoped so much from my stay
in this beautiful place
In what wsy?" he asked. sitting down
beside her
DO YOU not kuow-how | am a bank
rupt suthores>:' expected that the
me"
Il think it has You came here in June,
pale and thin. and looking like the last
rose of summer Now-in September
you resemble the rose in June"
Thank vou," with low, half mocking
laugh. In regard to my health you are right
leaving out the roses know, however.
that papa and mamma fully expected that
| should do a quantity Of literary work
this summer, and have done-nothing "
You have enjoyed YOURSELF"
That is too tame a aTord. | have been
enchanted intoxicated. | fear that is the
trouble Nature in all her moods has ney-
er before been so dear to me, it has intoxi-
Gated me to such an extent that could do
and study Of 1t until my soul is flled with
its beauty and fragrance"
Then you have only 10 let some Of It's
charms flow from your pen for the world
To enjoy
She gave gesture of despair. II can
motor rather, can write nothing but
what has been written over and over
again"
There are so many writers"
"Multitudes of them. read book and
| find expressed in its pages my own
thoughts, and think. now some one has
got in advance of me, | cannot offer that
to the public now And SO it is lind my
self supplanted in every direction. For
myself do not particularly care, but my
family are bitterly disappointed in me"
why not create a new style of literature,
as Rider Haggard has done. for instance"
Il have thought of that, but what shall
create? Everything in nature and art
the supernatural or the strictly sensation
al. Society is being exhausted, and al
though it may be always interesting, is
not = satisfactory field in which to rise TO
fame. | will write nothing that will tend
to make my readers worse. | must have
something worthy of my own respect
that will lead minds higher or | will do
nothing. There are far too many books
for the fire"
You are quite right | have often
thought that something should be done to
prevent their publication, and in these
days of societies and clubs, why should
not one be devoted to banishing low liter
ature from our book stores?"
ut would be of nearly as much impor-
tance as the crusade against liquor. But
we are wandering. Have you ever MOTTO
ed or thought, that many of the novels
that We read now -a-days are merely repe-
titions of each other? The details may be
different, but the style. characters, scenic
descriptions and ideas conveyed are much
the same. Take, for instance, light ic-
ton. 1t always suggests to me-hash,'
Her companion laughed
Then you think that when one wish
es to write novel he has only
to take ideas from several others,
mix them together, write them out with a
81 - ;a
done"
THAT is precisely what l mean. 1t
would really be as nearly original as they
are generally in this day cf the world.
But it must have the appearance of origi-
nality and freshness. that will deceive the
people. and l have lost the ability to do
that Tell me, if you will, what am to
do?"
"'If will?' say rather, If can for |
fear that Is beyond me. Time alone may
help you"
so far time has only succeeded in tax
ing me backward" she answered despond-
emily. "And to- day as sat here,I was men,
tally taking my farewell of Starlight
They were silent for a moment, she
looking beyond him over the landscape
with dreamy eyes. and he watched her
gravely, feeling his own heart ache for
her.
A sincere friendship had sprung up be.
tween him and his sisters friend whom he
had met for the nrst time that summer.
They had been much together, and having
many tastes in common grew intimate.
Through all her cheerful demeanor, her
merry laughter over her own failures, her
frank discussions of her position, he dis
cerned underneath the empty place in her
life that even she herself could scarcely
put into words.
"Do you know" he spoke slowly. look.
ing straight into her eyes that turned to.
ward him at the sound Of his voice, 81
fancy that only necessity for action will