The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1898-11-08
MANUSCRIPT ONLY.

book. A friend who had dropped in one
evening told story of an acquaintance
who had written a book in middle age
and made great deal Of money. Then
Mrs. Abbey remember that when she
was girl before her marriage, she had
written two little stories and sent them to
a provincial paper. They had been accept
ed and paid for.
She said to her husband, 81 wonder If
could write bookY''
He did not answer, for he thought she
was not in earnest. But Mrs. Abbey
thought of it constantly, until ideas began
to crowd her brain. She said to herself;
II do believe could write 2 book There
is no harm in trying" -
She got packet of clumsy foolscap pa
per, and one night, when all the house
hold was asleep, she lit lamp and began
to write. And the words came 6uently,
very huently. Her daughter Gwendolyn
awoke, and, seeing the light came to find
out what her mother was doing for these
two women shared every hope and care.
Mother she cried, seeing the pile of
paper, ''what are you doing? Oh, mother,
I do believe you are writing book"
At first Mrs. Abbey denied it from the
same impulse that had made her put her
hand q1Aokly over the writing when her
daughter came in. But after time she
confessed that it was SO, and timid1Y read
aloud the first chapter, which she had just
finished
"Oh, mother, it is beautiful" cried
Gwendolyn.
'Shan go on with it, thenP''
Eyes, yes, go on with it. It's splendid.
I'm sure it will sell. Do so on with it,
So she went on with it. And when sew
eral chapters had been written she said
timidly to her husband and sons, who
were home for the holidays: IL thought
I might be able to write a story. I have
put down few ideas here and I'd like to
L., ~ IL
with
''I've read it, " said Gwen, "and it's SO
good"
Mr.. Abbey took the closely written
pages of MS. and read them aloud.
''It is 1nel 1t is beautiful they cried.
And it was beautiful. 1t was very beauti-
full.
She went on writing. It was to be
real book-a great book. as long as one of
Scott's or Dickens'-and, though her pen
was SO fluent, the writing took a long
time. Besides, she had other work to do
household duties to tire her out during
the day, and sometimes her head ached
when evening came-but as soon as she
took up the pen her cheeks grew flushed
and her mind grew warm with hope. She
lost sight of the bare surroundings and
lived in the atmosphere which falls like a
shimmering mist from heaven upon those
who commit their souls to paper and write
with their lifes blood. She was not work
ing for fame or glory or celebrity. She
had no worldly am bition, but she worked
for husband and children, for bread, for
life itself.
Every Sunday Mr.. Abbey read aloud the
| chapters that had been written during the
week, and they all cried, sit is beauti-
fulI'' The crush had left them sufficient
money to live on for about 10 months
| By that time the book would be finished,
and the book must needs be a success, be-
| cause it was written with all the best of a
| woman's soul They were shy of men
tioning it to outsiders, but Mr.. Abbey
read part of it to a few intimate friends,
| and they admired it.
Il am glad of that" said Mr.. Abbey in
| confidence to his daughter, because I
rather Inistrusted my own Judgment,
| though the book seems to me very beauti-
| full, but Mrs. Murray admired it immense
| ly." "And she ought to be a judge -
said Gwen, because she's a cousin of
! that Mr.. johnson, the journalist, and must
! know a lot of literary people" The book
| took nearly IS months to write, and by
| that time the money was all used up. The
last chapter had been finished and ''the
| end'' written with flourish The manu-
! script was large and bulky and very close
! 1y written They packed it up in brown
! paper and sent 1t of to a literary agent, as
| Mrs. Murray had advised them to do. AS
| Mrs. Abbey handed it over the postofhce
/
| that she was sending forth made up into
| brown paper parcel, sealed and registered
| and labeled ms only. About three
/ weeks later the postInan brought the letter
| for which they had been watching. The
| literary agent wished to see Mrs. Abbey
| the following day if she would come to
! his offices. He said nothing about the
| book, but there was an undefinable fra
| GRANGE Of kindness about the businesslike
| little note, or so at least it seemed to them.
| Next day Mrs. Abbey started of with
| Gwen, both their hearts beating. They
went in their best dresses. Mr.. Linley was
| awaiting them. When he heard them COM
ing up the stairs, he began to wish him
| self 100 miles off. He had given the death
| blow to many hopes in the course of his
| life, but he WINGED somewhat all the same.
! Perhaps he had the faculty of reading be-
| tween the lines
| And Gwen and her mother sat quietly
! without word, while he broke to Mrs.
| Abbey as gently as he could the truth
that her great, bulky story hid beautiful
soul in a body hopelessly unlovely. 1t
would be useless to offer it to any publish
er, and even if anybody would take it it
! would never sell.
'I-am-sorry, said Mrs. Abbey, with
dry lips. Gwen could not speak or look
up.
Mr. Linley WINGED. Then he told her
| that he could put her in the way of doing
| another kind OF literary Work, where her
| f1uency would be useful and where beau
| tiful thoughts were not needed. Would she
| come back to see him this day week.
| Gwen and her mother walked away. They
got into dingy omnibus to save their
best dresses from being spoiled by the
| rain. They were quite silent for a long
| time.
''Never mind, Gwennie, !" said the moth
or at last, putting one cold hand up to
her mouth 81 shall do something else.
| And he seemed-a-kind man. IN. E.
| FinIav in Cincinnati Herald