Middlebury register. (Middlebury, Vt.) 1886-1937, 1891-12-04
STORY OF A POPULAR NOVEL.


cessful Work of Fiction.
One of the most successful of recent
pieces of fiction-loved for its quaint, old
time pictures and its tender pathos-has
an inner history, known to few. The story
has brought the writer into sudden fame.
This is how it came to he written: Its
author, a clever young female newspaper
correspondent, secured board for her sum
mer vacation with "A quaint old Quakeress
in the country, not far from Springfield.
/ The young lady and her hostess soon be
came fast friends.
Evening after evening they would sit to-
/ gether upon the porch steps, and the old
| lady would pour into the attentive ears of
| her sympathetic listener the story of Der
/ own hard lfe-an orphaned and comfort
/ less childhood, a grlhood Of ceaseless work,
/ devoid of coveted "schooliug;" an early
and Incompatible marriage; Il womanhOod
! full of the privations, struggles and small
economics of those who raised IA family"
and got home" in the early days; a
whole life filled with unsatislied craving
for knowledge, power, appreciation She
had hungered for the bread of intellectual
companionship, and had been given the
stone of solitary drudging and pinching.
But the pride of life had not been wholly
crushed out of her. She had chung to one
dream. She had written Il book. Yes, the
last word of the last page had been finished
/ the very day that her guest had arrived.
! She should never forget-so she told her
young listener as they sat together under
the notified, quivering shade of the thick
leaved naples which the moonlight sill
houetted upon the doorsteps-the feel
iags" which she had" as she traced the
word "Fi-n-i-s" and put straight mark
after it, so; Fins
How long had she worked over it? Ten
long years. And now it was done How
glorious it would look in print-her own
book
81 hope you put much of the story of
your own life into itf" suggested the young
woman.
"Oh, my, no.! exclaimed the dear old
woman; mot bit of it. Nobody would
care to read that. It's all about lost he'll
and things like that"'
The next summer the young lady cam,
out to the old farmhouse agan-but moi
for more moonlight visits with her quaint
old friend, whose white lips had been bit
ten into silence by the frosts of death.
The dull, sad husband led the young wo
man into the bedroom, and pointing to
large package of sheets tied together will
which stood upon the bureau beside tn,
tumblers and medicine, said:
MARY wanted you to put them into tn,
coffin along with her when she was lai,
out-wouldn't have no one else tech 'em
nohow. | can't understand it. Nor can
see why them there letters should a made
her just pine herself away into the grave
but they did though"
The young woman read one of the let
tiers, or rather circulars, for they wer
printed:
1--WE regret that your manuscript is no
available for our use, and herewith return
it with thanks"
She had no need to read more of them
but placed them and the rejected manu-
script beside the dead. Then she returne,
home, wrote the story of the humble If
which "nobody would care to read" an,
made Il fame the hundredth part OF whicl
would have given the disappointed life
which had just gone out in darkness
glorious sunset.-Chicago Times.