The Cape Girardeau Democrat. (Cape Girardeau, Mo.) 1876-1909, 1897-10-16
PERlLS OF AUTHORSHIP.

nEILDRED'S pretty face wore new
Iyl expression as she toycd with her
Teaspoon and tried to finish her roll
and coffee. John had just left for his
Office. They had been married three
months, and the serious aspects of life
were for the first time presenting them
selves.
Il wish | could do something TO help
john" thought Mildred, as she gazed
~abstractedly out of the window. He
has to work so hard" and she gave a lit
tic sigh.
What can 1 do?" she pondered.
"Nhat can l do?" she asked herself
again and again, as with def touch she
Strengthened and arranged the dainty
apartment.
Suddenly her face looked as if Il door
had opened and flooded it with sun-
light.
II know what 1 will do; | viii write
a story. l know 1 car if | try. People
do not have to be so awfully clever to
do that. 1t is 4 knack, not Il talent.
There is Mrs. - who has made
heaps of money; and her stories are only
poor trash-all of them. John says So"
Before another hour had passed the
outline of Il pot was dancing in her
excited young brain, and as soon as
she could get the time she sat down
with pad and sharpened pencil. Then
came a pause. How shall | begin?"
She drew little geomctric figures on
the margin of her paper as she reflected,
her thoughts seeming to reyolve in a
circle, returning ever 10 the place from
whence they started. Finally she
wrote:
In a small village on the banks Of
"Oh, that is so commonplace. No;
that will not do" And she tore off the
first sheet of her pad and reflected
again, then wrote:
Frank Atwood was the only Sol of
a"
NO, no; that is too stupid" and the
second sheet of the pad went into the
waste-paper basket.
She recalled what John had said of
the superfluous first three pages, which
might with benefit to most stories be
eliminatcd-for John was a journalist
and literary critic, and his standards
and ideals were just on the measure of
her own. So she thought with great
Difference of what he had said about
tedious preambles.
He is right" she said, with decision.
at is the personal interest in the char
acters which We are looking for in read
ing a story. All that m before that
is tedious superiority.
II will dash right on with a letter
from the heroine, which will at once
explain the situation" So with the con-
fidence which came from feeling herself
at last on the right track, she wrote:
Dear Frank-I return herewith the let
tiers, which of curse have now no right
to keep. Ineed not tell you what it cost me.
81 have reflected much upon what you
said Yesterday, but l am at last resolved.
1 will not see you again. Any attempt to
make me break this resolve Will be fruit
less. God knows you have only yourself
to blame that this marriage has"
"Please, ma'am," said the cook, COM
ing suddenly in upon the young author
ess. please. ma'am, the butcher is
here. viii you come and see him and
give the order yourself about havin'
them chops frenched or whatever it is"
''Oh, what a bore!" sighed Mildred.
81 was just getting into the swing of
H." And she left the manuscript upon
her desk to be resumed later.
The matter of the chops disposed of,
there were other things requiring at
tention.
At last, however, she was at her desk
again. She read over the letter with
which her story opened to see how ii
sounded. Really" said she, Il think