Santa Fe new Mexican. [volume] (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1898-1951, 1899-01-26
MANUSCRIPT ONLY.

OIL, w WhoAA oho Wofiu ulu mourning ii
particular until it treated her badly. And
that happened when she had a grown w
daughter and three sons at school and al
invalid husband who could do nothing to
ward earning money that was needed.
Then it was that sho thought of writing
a book. A friend who had dropped in one
evening told n story of an acquaintance
who had written q book in middle age
and made a great deal of money. Then
Mrs. Abbey remembered that when shs
was u girl, before her marriage, she had
written two little stories and sent them to
a provincial paper. They had been accept.
cd and paid for.
She said to her husband, II wonder if
could write a book?"
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 I could write a book. There
is no harm in trying"
She got a packet of clumsy f~oolscap pa
per, and one night, when all the house
hold was asleep, she lit a lamp and began
to write. And the words came fuently,
very fuently. 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 a book"
At first Mrs. Abbey denied it from the
same impulse that had made her put her
hand quickly over the writing when her
daughter came in. But after a time she
confessed that it was SO, and timidly read
aloud the first chapter, which she had Just
finished.
"Oh, mother, it is beautiful" cried
~Gwendolyn.
"Shall I go on with it, them"
Eyes, yes, go on with it. It's splendid.
I'm sure it will sell. Do go on with it,"
So she went Oh with it. And when sew
eral chapters had been written she said
timidly to her husband and sons, who
were home for the holidays: Ill thought
l might be able to write a story. I have
put down a few ideas here, and I'd like to
know if you think it worth going on
with"
''I've read it," said Gwen, land it's so
good"
Mr.. Abbey took the closely written
pages of MS. and read them aloud.
sit is fine! 1t Is beautiful they cried.
AND it was beautiful. It was very beauti-
full.
She went on writing. 1t was to be a
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
hny1cnhn1I dyptioc T., ts,o L1,. 1,% l.,-:.--
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 life's blood. She was not work.
ing for fame or glory or celebrity. She
had no worldly ambition, 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-
ful!' The crush had left them sufficient
money to live on for about Is 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.
II am glad of that" said Mr.. Abbey in
confidence to his daughter, because I
rather mistrusted 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 a flourish. The manu-
script was large and bulky and very close
ly written They packed it up in brown
paper and sent 1t off to a literary agent, as
Mrs. Murray had advised them to do. As
Mrs. Abbey handed it over the postoffice
counter she felt as though it was her heart
she was sending forth made up into q
brown paper parcel, sealed and registered
and labeled "MS." only. About three
weeks later the postman 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
Officer. He said nothing about the
book, but there was IN undeflnable fra
GRANGE of kindness about the businesslike
little note, or SO at least it seemed to them.
Next day Mrs. Abbey started Of with
both their hearts beating. They
went in their best dresses. Mr.. Linley was |
awaiting them. When he heard them COM
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
a word, while he broke to Mrs.
as gently as he could the truth
that her great, bulky story hid a beautiful
soul in q body hopelessly unlovoly. 1t
would be useless to offer it to any publish
Dr, and even If anybody would take it it
would never sell.
"I-am-sorry," said Mrs. Abbey, with
Try lips. Gwen could not speak OF look
up.
MI. Linley WINGED. Then he told her
that he could put her in the way Of doing
another kind of literary work, where her
would be useful and here beau
iiful thoughts were not needed. Would she
,ome back to see him this day week?
Gwen and her mother walked away. They
rot into a dingy omnibus to save their
dresses from being spoiled by the
rain. They were quite silent for a long
lime.
Never mind, Gwennie, +" said the moth
,r at last, putting one cold hand up to
Ter mouth. IT shall do something else.
And he seemed-a-kind MANN. E.
Tinlay in Cincinnati Herald.
Devils Island.
Devils island is not named on the
maps. It Is the smallest and most north
I'm Of the three Isles du Salut, situated
lhout 19 miles from Cavanna and aiUht