The Sunday morning news. [volume] (Jersey City [N.J.]) 1886-1891, 1891-05-24


her giftsin her dodgers confidence.
The color, whether of Indignation or
embarrassment, rosed the young lady's
neck and cheeks and touched the tips of
her beautiful ears. 1--WE were left with a
little property, she said in constrained
voice 'Our poor father was very I'M
fortunate in his last years, but there
was a small sum remaining, and it was
placed in the hands Of our guardian
Miss March reserved the fact that the
said guardian had invested the little
patrirnony in wildcat stock, and there
was not a penny left She had taken
the greatest pains to conceal this fact
from her young brother, and why should
she confide it to her landlady9
oh said the landlady, deliberately
stirring her coffee, .'then you don't keep
him at college. Northup and me had
taken the notion into our heads that you
was educating your brother by your
writings shaving away for good and all
to keep him suppied-but if you have
only yourself to look ont for its different,
of course. | should like to know" and
Mrs. Northup settled back in her chair
prepared to put a leading question,
awhether there's much money to be
made in writing for newspapers and
magazines"
q never thought of it in that light"
said Miss March slowly, as sbecrumbled
bit of bread on her plate. "Then
suppose you write to get your name in
print, or just to pass the time"
mo, nor that either IN a faint voice;
Il had to do something"
sWell, do you know there was man
named Sparks who lodged with me
three years ago. He used to get up comic
pieces for some paper out west, and
mercy mel how he did work at these
jokes. Sometimes he would come down
stairs into the kitchen where was baking
or ironing. and say she, Miss Northup,
I'm stuck. | can't think of anything
today but funerals and graveyards and
executions if my life depended Ofall the
gol dong trades any man ever lookup, this
writing for comic newspapers is worst.
Sometimes I'd hear him walking the
floor, a-tearing his hair to raise a joke.
1t was dreadful, can tell you. guess
on the whole I'd rather keep dodgers.
One month he would have his pockets
full of money, and the next not cent
TO bless himself. Poor Sparks, I'm afraid
he was little too fond of the bottle.
But got the impression that writing for
living was pretty poor trade"
you're quite right, Mrs. Northup.
Thank you so much for this nice break
fast" and Miss March rose and went to
her room. 1t was an attic chamber Of
fair size, under a long sloping roof, with
three small windows SO placed that there
were only CLEANS of sky and clouds and
tree tops and fitting birds to be had,
while humble bee or yellow jacket
buzzed in and out of the open easement
screened by muslin curtains. The writ
ing table stood under one of these open
windows, with the narrow bed opposite,
and al the furnishings were scant and
plain. A few photographs and sketches
were pinned about the roughly plastered
wall, An arrangement of wild flowers
and vines in broken nosed pitcher
filed one corner nook, and Miss March's
scanty supply Of gowns hung under
calico curtain. The lame dressing table
was propped with block of wood, and
before it was spread breadth of faded
carpet. In corner cupboard were a few
dishes-two cracked teacups and a tin
of dry soda crackers. The little oil stove
stood on deal table, where Miss March
cooked her little meals. All WAS neat,
trim and virginia., for as Mrs Northup
surmised, Edith March was lady, and
had been reared in a well appointed
home.
Now the girl threw down her hat and
gloves, locked the door, and falling prone
on her little bed, face down, began to
sob in all the bitterness of her unspeak-
able disappointment and anguish of soul.
/ What fool she had been to undertake
to keep Willie at college by the earn
ings of her inexperienced pen A few
things in the early months of her career
had been accepted, well paid for and
praised. She had made great and pro
longed effort to produce something bet
ter, had half starved herself and burnt
the midnight oil, and now it had been
, flung back to her from the magazine
that had taken her first story, and kind
I hearted Out nedQleSomo and O11clOuS
Mrs. Northup had shown her what an
idiot she was to hope to succeed in a
career where many wiser and better
equipped had failed.
4 She sobbed herself into kind of calm,
and then she remembered she must
brace up Willard with cheerful letter
Poor boy, with his weak chest and
natural habit of looking on the dark
! side of things, he needed a deal of brac-
4 ing. She arose with red and swollen
eyes, brushed back her tumbled hair,
and felt the thick, dreadful packet still
burning in the pocket of her gown.
| Now it was drawn forth and the seal
was broken. Yes, it was her poor re-
jected story; but instead of the heartless,
cold blooded printed slip saying "the
return of MS. does not necessarily i'm
ply lack of merit or unftness for publ
cation" !. typewriter letter from the
editor fell into her lap not unkndly
worded.
your story" it said, "shows marks
| of hurried composition. It IS crude in
parts and lacks literary finish. But the
1 r1lof Ia q rood ono and caf1obta of axrar1-