Fairhaven herald. [volume] (Fairhaven, Wash.) 1890-????, 1892-04-26

the Wearlest and dreariest time of my whole
existence. Locked into a desk with dozenI
OF others awaiting tardy examination.
spent a whole yearof suspense and anxiety.
There is some satisfaction in hyinQ about
one sees the world at all events-but to
await ones fate in dreary, voiceless silence
Is most exasperating.
Ihere! Another letter from that tire
some woman, inquiring about her precious
MS, said the editor Of the great "house-
mold magazine" fretfully as he tumbled
me out upon his desk. Some trashy love
story, I'll be bound. Why can't women
write something besides love stories won
der"
He glanced me over carelessly. Yes,
yes Just as l expected. Angelina and
| Adolphus get married, and their earthly
! career is ended Well, Miss Mary Bobo-
link you're welcome to your story don't
want it,"
could scarcely wait to get back, | was
SO anxious to know how they Jared in my
home, and perceived at once that | had
come in an opportune time, when my au-
thor took me out with a trembling hand.
Her eyes were heavy with much weep
ing, and she laid me down with sigh.
",
land how poor Gathers funeral expenses
are going to be paid | cannot see"
went upon a weary round after this
back and forth-hither and thither. and as
my authors name was beginning to be-
come known editors read me with more of
attention, and as a special mark of favor
returned me with a criticism.
One said | was too long, movement not
rapid enough, and incident too much
spread out Another that | needed more
careful elabOratiOn-movem too rapid
and not enough of analysis and close at
tention to details
Still another that my subject matter was
too unreal-not natural enough, and too
evidently written to pander to a demand
for the strange and impossible.
A fourth, that there was too much Of a
sameness in my subject matchmaking
striking-shOuld be condensed to at most
one-third of its present length
AT the fifth and last criticism, that if
my author expected to succeed she must
draw her topics from nature, take real
incidents with which to touch the great
heart Of the reading public" Miss Mary
quite broke down.
Having ears they hear not and having
eyes they see not" she sobbed.
How can l touch the great heart of the
public If editors persist in standing be-
tween it and me, and the very articles
which are drawn from real life are those
which come back most frequently, and
branded as unreal, forced and Imaginary"
She tossed me into a drawer. Lie there. /.
good friend" she said sadly. You have |
done all you could for me, and have but |
one postage stamp in the world and that is |
too precious TO waste upon forlorn hope" |
lay there for five years, often seeing the .
face OF my author-now sad, now CAV and .
bright with triumph and success, but nv
rest was not disturbed until one day when
an urgent letter came from a well known
editor, the very person to whom had gone
IN the first of my career, and who had since
been promoted from the position Of reader
TO that Of editor in chief
We will be glad to publish something
from your pen" he wrote, land anything
you send us will receive a cordial welcome"
Her eyes twinkled as she opened the
drawer where lay. Come out, my friend
the day Of your triumph is at hand. ." she
said smilingly
She read me over carefully and critically.
You were always favorite with me- and
like you better still after all these years.
[ md some Of the freshness and enthusi-
lsm Of my youth here" she said to a gen
-leman who sat near.
But hasn't that story been rejected at
that Officer | think you told me its history
)nce," he replied.
yes and there is the fun in it. dare
'ay it was never examined beyond the first
page, and that by the first reader into whose
hands it fell. Oh, l am safe enough in
sending it, | assure you, my dear"
l fairly trembled with mischievous plee
Is l found myself again in the familiar
presence OF the editor. His locks were
whitening, and he had donned glasses since (
left, but otherwise he was the same. His )
memory of me was not so vivid, however,
md he read me through with chuckle of
abstraction and without the faintest symp-
ON OF recognition, jotting down this edi-
orial notice for the issue in which was to
.ppear:
we present our readers this month with
story from the pen Of the gifted and ia
nous author Miss Mary Bobolink, now
1rs. Marlowe. 1t is a tale of rare beauty.
IS delicate touches of nature reaching out
nth an unerring grasp toward the heart
trings Of its readers. 1t has always been
ur aim to Gull the very best from the fields
{ literature, and in this instance we think
ur readers will agree that we have sue
eeded"
Hat hal hap laughed Mr.. Marlowe as
e sat by his wife's desk in her study
Two hundred dollars with a note of thanks
brown in from a magazine for a story
yhich had once been rejected there. You T
Id rather get the best of that Office Mary"
Nothing succeeds like success" Mrs.
larlowe replied with a smile, but she does
OF know to this day that he who rejected
nd accepted her MS is one and the same
erson.-Mrs f. NJ. Howard in Journalist. {
skill i'm Ballooning.
A new view Of the aeronaut's skill is that
iven in "A Winter Cruise in Summer
cas-" An Irish balioonist once said to the