Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1894-04-06
HER NOM DE PLUME.

stand here alOne-as much alone this
clear, cold winter morning as though the
wastes of Sahara stretch out around me.
Yet am in pretty room-a luxurious
room-with a glorious fire glowing in
the silver barred CRATE and the curtains
of frosty lace half obscuring the outside
world. A room with a warm crimson
carpet, jardiniere of blooming plants,
a redbird swinging idly to and fro in it's
gilded cage, a piano in the corner and
pictures on the walls, and books-books
everywhere.
This is my especial sanctum, my own
den, whittier retreat from the storms
of the world, the cold, .pitiless blasts Of
adversity-and find peace. Yet am a
woman-a sensitive, imaginative wom-
an-and if sometimes a tiny touch of
discomfort starts into my heart-a feel
ing of loneliness-it surely need not con-
Germ any one but myself. "Man was not
made to live alone" and, for the matter
of that, neither was woman. Yet
better lonely, single life than an I'M
happy double existence. So say as go
over to my desk and seat myself for the
daily ''grind."
First I will introduce myself. My
name is-Vere St. Adams Hale, and am
a newspaper correspondent, writer of
magazine articles and everything else in
the imagination line for which I can find
sale. The reader must not object to the
implied inference that the newspaper
correspondent is to be classed with writ
ers of fiction. Yet whence do they CLEAN
all their scraps of wonderful informa-
ton?
For long time have been writing
articles for leading magazine under q
masculine nom de plume We're st. AL
bans-which is an abbreviation of my
own given name attached to my second.
To my surprise, the articles have been
received with far more appreciation than
I had dared to hope for, and that fact,
accompanied by liberal checks, has
proved very pleasant episode in my
hardworking existence. This morning
as I seat myself at my desk preparatory
to coming down on the days work like
the traditional wolf on the fold am in
terrupted by the appearance Of my own
servant girl with a fair, open counte-
nance and general vacuity.
s'Well, Abby" observe, little tes-
tily, for she is transgressing a well
known rule regarding the interrupting
Of my work, "what is it?"
'sPlease, miss Tin a solemn voice,
which somehow provokes me to smile),
''there's a lady-that is to say, girl-in
the deception room.'
A small antechamber where my stray
visitors are first received before being
welcomed into the sanctum. smile a
little more.
reception room, Abby" correct Sc
verely, but feeling an irresistible desire
to expand the smile into a laugh.
"What is her business?'
ssOh, she wants to see Mr.. We're St. AL
bans that's the very name, miss
(proudly). GIVE said it over and over
till I know it's right"
''Mr. We're st. Albans!''
Irepeat the name-the unluclzy name
lin bewildered way.
"What does she wish Of him?'
Abby courtesies.
s'Please, miss, don't know. But she's
a-carryin a little book in her hand. No,
miss, she's not book agent, cause l
asked her. She's a college girl, she says,
and-and-I believe it's some writing
she wants done"
arise in mock resignation. did have
an idea-a bright and brilliant idea-in
my brain when seated myself at my
desk this morning. 1t has flown now.
VIII it ever return?
take myself into the reception room
and find my visitor, pretty little school
girl, overdressed and laden with school
books. Conspicuous ON the very top lies
a velvet bound volume. Yes, / have
seen such volumes before, ''many a time
and off," and it does not require the
word Autographs in huge, gilt letters
to explain its mission. She arises at once.
'sPardon me for intruding," she be-
gins, 'sbut I have ventured to call to re-
quest the autograph of the great writer,
We're st. Adams. Will you kindly inter-
cede in my behalf. madam, and beg
him to write in my album"
There Is the situation in nutshell.
She believes We're st. Adams to be a
man, and she wants his illustrious auto
graph. Well, the very easiest way in
the world to get it over with and to be
at liberty to return to my days work at
the desk is to grant her request,
ST will ask him." return, feeling like
a small conspirator.
sob, will yon, please?" her face light
ing up wonderfully. elbow good of you!
You see, there's a wager on it. Brother
Tom has bet me dozen pairs Of kid
gloves-six buttons and assorted shades
that I'll not be able to get st. Adams
autograph. He says there is O. mystery
about him. think you are very kind
to promise to help mer' she adds gush-
ingly,
/ do my best to repress smile, and so
taking the book from her hand / retire
to the privacy Of my sanctum, where
proceed to inseribe my name in my lar
gest, manifest chirography. Id1y it care
fully and return to the reception room.
...Oh, how very kind in your my Wis
itor gushes again. II shall prize it as
long as I live! Are you his sisterF'
shake my head:
"Oh, not his-wife?"
I fancy CONSERVATION in the sweet,
shrill, girlish Voice. Evidently the fact
Of ''better half" wouldforever obscure
the fame Of the popular writer.
Again I shake my head.
"Vere St. Albans is not married." !
return, and the violet eyes dance with
delight. She is pleased and does not at