Frostburg mining journal. [volume] (Frostburg, Md.) 1871-1913, 1891-08-29
MY FIRST STORY.
BY EVA LOVETT CARSON.

L could write verses yes, and sell them,
which is still more gratifying.
The columns of the Weekly Bmgle, The
ChoHenge, and the Trumpeter, were fire.
quently adorned by my name. They
were all good papers, and paid me the
best price for the verses which they ac-
cepted Not fancy prices, but as good
as any other fourth class poet can COM
mand.
But this fame did not satisfy my heart.
Any work looks wonderful to us except
that which we can do. The writing of
verses, even successful ones, became an
occupation to be despised, and the ability
to write stories a wonderful and desirable
gift.
My friend Mrs. Adams wrote stories.
When | heard her speak carelessly of GO
or so dollars as her ordinary price, | was
filled with awe and admiration 1t was
really so much more profitable, as she
frankly said. Why should l write two
verses for three dollars, and three verses
for five, when by spreading the same
idea over a few more quires of paper,
making 5000 words out of what | had
L
$50 instead of five? Why, indeed:
Words are cheap. With good diction-
airy at my service, and fair idea to start
with, what should prevent me coming
money as we'll as another woman:
What, indeed?
SO | studied Mrs. Adamss latest story;
it did not seem very hard. There was a
of I
bad at conversation. The heroine was very
beautiful and talented, and deeply in love
with the untaIented and ugly hero. This
was plain sailing. So was the flush creep
ing over her face and her start when the
hero bounded up stairs. Dear, dear.
what did | want but determination:
made up my mind to try.
| found good idea IN my note book
one that had been keeping for news
paper article, and boldly started.
1t was not such a very bad story Now
that the agony is over, and the story l.
no more, | may say that much without
vanity. The subject was original, it WI
strictly moral, the love making was del,
cately suggested, and the story ended
with witty speech. / wrote the speech
the first thing.
The heroine was a slight, dark haired
girl, and her name was Laura | wa
rather sorry for her sutferings, but she
bore them with composure, and came OF?
with flying colors. She flushed and be.
came confused at the proper places. an'
fell in love with the young man viii,
wanted her, which is the most comfort
able arrangement, although rather un
usual.
The fates seemed propitious. | sat up
late one night to finish the copying.
Coarse, commonplace affairs, such a.
grocer and butchers orders. the sewing
on of innumerable buttons, and the care
of several small children, occupied my
time during the day. l sat in my own
room to write, and dashed away.
Hannibal came to see how | was get
ting along, He sat looking at me lazily
with half shut eyes, through the thick
clouds of smoke he puffed from his pipe.
He sat on the edge of the bed, thing !
hate to have any one do.
"Where will you send it 2" said he.
"Don't know-perhaps the american
Jayhach, or the Weekly .Slambang."
kept on writing. There I've got the
instead of he Don't talk Where's
the penknife ?"
Hannibal produced one from his pocket
which used.
More puffs. How much do you think
you'll get?"
Its got nearly 5000 words; worth 50,
but of course I'd take less. :"
"Humph Guess you'd be glad to take
60 if you could get it! !"
Hannibal, go to bed!
More puffs. 1T wouldn't be unpleas-
ant to have that much extra, for | can't
give you a great deal this week. Want
all can scrape the day after tomorrow
for that bill.
Hannibal! I'll go raving distractcdif if
you talk to me about bills and things
now How can | write? There's the
baby rolling off the edge! Catch him!'
Hannibal obeyed sul1ily; but finally
went off with his pipe, and left me in
peace.
l was very tired when | got through
copying that story. 1t did not seem nearly
so entertaining as at first Rather family,
] wondered if would have to send it to
many places before it was sold. | saw
several faults, but bundled all the papers