The record-union., 1891-01-18
Our Correspondent Tells a Good
Story Of a Story.
THE DIFFICULTY EXPERIENCED WITH
HARD-HEARTED PUBLISHERS.
The sold Ffdd1er's'' Mission Was Not
All in Vain, for Jack and His Wife
We're Finally Made Happy for Life
by Penning It.
Especial Correspondence of SUNDAY UNION.

| Especial Correspondence of SUNDAY UNIoN.l
NEVADA CITY, Jan. Is, 1891.
l have just been reading Lens
Christmas story in the SUNDAY UNION Of
December 2Sth, and it has brought back
to my mind story which l wrote away
back in the years that are gone, when I
had more ambition than I have now.
| 1t was not a Christmas story, nor
Fourth of July story, ncr New Year
story, nor Thanksgiving story. There
were in it no descriptions of balls, to-
boggan slides and peach blossoms in De-
cember. L suppose that is the reason the
! Century, Scri62er'S, and every other pub
| lication on earth refuseG it. Stories TO
be successful must have something orig
inal about them. Otherwise they are
only fizzles; and over and above all
things, a story should have hero, who is
so good and true and lovable, and hero
inc, who is SO sweet and pure and beauti-
! ful. Around these two characters enc
may set in motion n whirligig of villains,
| thugs, cutthroats, dudes, schcIning wild
| ows, poor orphans, rich bankers, stable
boys, grooms, Wallets, lords dukes. earls,
| kings, queens, jacks. aces, spades, hearts,
diamonds, clubs. horses, dogs, shotguns,
| DtCtty N6itSi guns, ~ iyt-
writers, detectives, book reviewers, act
| ors, supes, and a naughty mother and
stern, unmerciiul father with a great for
| tune that he has made by sllinning the
poor. Also. a heart that is hard as flint
all over, except in one spot, where his
daughter, the heroine. has found a soft
place about as big as fiibert.
| The story | wrote had none of these
things in it. and it was iizzle. That is,
/ 1t was q fizzle from 81 literary or dramatic
point of Wow. The title of il was The
| Old Fiddler"
There lived in the little village Of my
youth an old fellow who managed in
some way TO elle out a lonely, miserable
/ existence by iiddling for parties and balls,
and by giving instructions to those who
We're anxious to become iiddlers too. He
was a jovial old fellow, but drank so
much whisky that it was only ON rare
occasions one could find him sober. No
body knew much about him. He had
come from the East at an early DAY, and
that was all he ever told anybody about
himself. This naturally set the people
OF the village 90 supposing, and they sup
posed that he was born of ''rich and fiIsh-
ionable parents'' that he had loved a gill
of low degree, probably one of his fathers
maid servants; that his parents had driven
him away, and that he had gone forth into
the world TO seek a fortune, and had not
found it yet.
One rainy day, when / was kicking my
heels together and wondering what |
should do to become famous, the old
fiddler reeled by, full as goose, with his
violin case under his arm and a Jug of
brain-stealer in a sack. immediately
was seized by an inspiration. / sat me
down and wrote the story OF ''The Old
| Fiddler"
I told how the gentle, blooming
youth, who loved music and the daughter
of his fathers cook, had become estranged
from his family; how he had taken his
fiddle and his fathers curse and gone
out into the cold and pitiless world; how
he had struggled and toiled for fame;
how he had risen high in his professions;
how he had learned one day that the
cooks daughter had ran away with the
head waiter of the stables; how he had
taken to drink and gone down steadily
until the blooming youth was an old man
full of whisky.
focus. / told how the Old Fiddler had
become despised and forsaken, and was
jeered at and kicked into the gutter,
while the rich people had their snug
homes and their great banquets, with
never thought for the friendless old
man who tottered by their doors.
Then got up great storm that blew
the horns from the cattle, the tails from
the swine and the tail-feathers from the
great rooster that stood on one leg over
the Town Hall, and brought with it rain
and hail and SNOW just when all the gay
people We're assembled at church for the
evening service.
/ remember now that / wrote up this
storm as follows:
"How the wind blew! How the rain
came down in torrents, drowning the
young ducks, and also drowning the
voices of the singers in the church. The
street was raging sea. Old hats, boxes,
baskets, chips, chickens, and other things
too numerous TO mention went sailing by
on the muddy flood. Then
there came change. The wind ceased
/ as suddenly as it had come, and the rain,
with final swish, tledwith it. After the
rain came the snow, a binding mass of
feathery flakes that gathered and piled
themselves upon the earth at wonder
'Softly now the great organ pealed
forth it's melody, that echoed along the
vaulted roof and stole out upon the snow
burdened air.
''In a corner of the door, wrapping his
tattered coat about his shaking form.
stood the Old Fiddler. Great tears ran
down his sunken cheeks and froze upon
his unkempt beard as he heard again the
grand old song which his mother had
sung to him in the days gone by.
with hearts made tender by the even
ing service the people were passing ST
deacon, leading the way with his lantern,
stumbled over something in the snow,
and pitched headlong over it. He arose
hurriedly, his fall greeted with shout of
laughter from the unthinking ones.
IAN examination of the object was
made.
"'Great heavensv cried the old deacon,
as he bent over it, it is the Old Fiddler
froZe as stiff as poker!'
"Tenderly they bore him away; ten
derly they cared for the dead. Gently
they closed the eyes that could see no
more of mans inhumanity to man"
OF course the funeral was described at
length, and I know l made the scene at
the grave very affecting.
When had finished the s'Old Fiddler"
and the finishing of him cost me a great
many tears of real sorrow, l sent the story
off to the Century, and in due time I re-
ceived letter saying that the '.Old Fid-
dler'' had been placed on file. A month
| later L received a notice that the ..Old
Fiddler had been rejected, and would be
returned on receipt of eight cents post
age. / forwarded eight cents in stamps
TO the Century Company and in week
| or so the "Old Fiddler" returned, look
ing somewhat the worse for the trip.
| Then | sent him off to Harper's, and that
company of hard hearted publishers sent
him back SO quickly that / am certain
| that they never thoroughly examined him.
| The next trip the "Oid Fiddler made
was to Scribner. Scribner didn't ike
/ him and he came back to me again, look
ing decidedly shabby, so / copied him all
! over again, and touched up the storm and
made the pathetic parts more pathetic,
and fired him off to Frank Leslie. Frank
| Leslie kept him awhile, and then re-
/ turned him with thanks.
/ I began to see now that none of the
| magazine publishers cared to associate
with the "Old Fiddler and / felt like