The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1898-04-03

rosy red. w hy-WDy tell the Poet a. I'll .
1t was her own story. She had written
u herself. To be sure. he suggested it;
! but then, anybody might suggest She
took out the surname and left the Chris
tan name
The magazine came out on the 9th. It
| contained the story In a day or two the
editor invited her to call.
The styles so strong" he said. the
| treatment so entirely virile, that l con-
| fess / was surprised to find 1t the work
| of a woman. My dear young lady, if YOU
have any more stories of the same kind,
should be very glad indeed to see them ~
She blushed again. I'LL believe can
send you another story before long she
| said.
on Sunday evening, after they had din
| ed together, they climbed those stairs
| again. Once more, in the darkness, IN
| spiration came to the Poet with another
bottle of whisky. Once more Elise left
him. her brain quvering and throo9lng
with the scenes that he had conjured up.
For two years after this, the pages of
| that magazine were made splendid, month
| after month, by the appearance of snort
| stories signed Elise" 1t was wonderful
| that any one writer should be able to keep
up the same level OF originality and pow
er. At the end of the first year appeared
| a story in a single volume by the lame
L d
boom as that of i'Trilby,' perhaps; but a
| distinct success and very large circuia-
| ton And the name Elise became ia
| nous. Then it was whispered that she
was a High School teacher-a Newman
girl, a mathematician.
Then she resigned her post at the school,
and began to enjoy the social glories OF the
| success, and became a writer on other
subjects, such as the degradation of be-
raanprnfZQ1
! Coming Woman of the advanced order
| and all this time the Poet walked the
| streets and sat in his garnet and drank
| the whisky which filled him with thoughts;
while Elise listened, gave him money,
| gave him advice but told him nothing
about the literary success. And he re-
manned as poor, as shabby, as miserable
and as forlorn as ever.
one evening, however, they were sitting
as usual in the garnet, without light save
from the lamp below, which shot feeble
giimmer through the window, and without
| fire. for the young man was always too
| poor to have any. They sat in silence for
| awhile-he had been quite silent during
dinner. Then he got up and took glass
of the inspiring fluid, but instead of walk
| ing about till inspiration came, he lit a
| candle-there was one in the bedroom
candlestick-and stood over the girl and
ELIZA Scholastica Jago 1 have found
| you Quit!
"What?" she cried, her heart suddenly
growing icy cold, for she knew perfectly
well what he meant. Found me OUT"
Found you out. By accident l read
| the last number of the magazine-you
know what magazine got hold of the
back numbers. have read them all.
| Now you know what 1 mean"
ooh! John Coverley!'
'It has got to stop"
ITO stop?" she asked, family
when 1 tell you that the visions come
now without the whisky and that re-
| member them. For the future
"Ohr she moaned. What shall 1
say?''
"You can go on--we can go on-if you
marry me, Eliza Scholastica.'
Marry? Marry? Marry your she an
swered with terror-stricken eyes and
voice.
"Marry-marry-marry me. Else it
stops"
Now. among all the company of Advanc-
| ed Women there were none who held
| stronger views on the subject of matri-
mony that Elise Jago On the weakness
| of women who suffered themselves to be
carried away by foolish love she was with
| ering. Nothing-nothing would ever make
/ her give way. ana now TO De tOlQ Jndt
| unless she married = Ohi-and this
poor wretch! He looked shabbier, more
unkempt poorer, more contemplate than
| ever in the uncertain light of the one can
die. Her whole soul revolted. She sprang
| to her feet
Marry you? Never! 1 will die first.
Marry you? BEAST!
Then, Eliza, the spring dries up-the
inspiration ceases. I write my stories my
| to your f70 year and your High School"
She shook all over; her trembling was
] felt over the whole room. The very win
dows ratified with the force of it, She
| sank back into her chair.
How much have you made this year,
Elise? You are very beautiful, my dear
think I have always loved you. How
much did you say?"
II made a thousand pounds last year, ,
she confessed unwilhngly.
"By my work And you have given me
fifty. But forgive you, on those condi-
tionsH
She made no reply. He could feel,
| however, that she was crying.
'Shall we agree?'
! 'Oh, I cannot-I cannotw
I'm that casesgoodN night; my work will
! begin tomorrow"
She eroaned.
|
that! You shall have the half
mo l mean to have the whole
1t was a pretty wedding. The church
was crowded. The bridegroom, now shaw
en- and combed and brushed, and groom
! ed, and fed, turned out to be a cookbook
| ing person. Elise told a most romantic
| story about childhood and friendship and
| long-forgotten attachment, which may be
omitted in this place. The function was
marked by very Interesting and grace
full act. On the wedding day new edi-
! ton of the successful volume commenced.
| There was a dedication on the title page.
ITO my dear husband. to whom these
pages owe whatever they may possess of
truth or reality OF attraction
'Of course" said the world "she was
| bound to give some reason for her sudden
change of front about marriage Fancy
| Elise! After all she has written and said
| To be carried off her head merely by a
mans good looksl She viii make out. l
dare say, that the creature wrote all
| those Stories" stA
But the signature of Elise still con-
| tinues. iSt
(The Enid
In the House Gallery.
The amenities that ma ssed betvvee1 Soma