The Camden chronicle. (Camden, Tenn.) 1890-current, 1905-01-20

And so my career began. 1t was
hard, cruelty hard, with snags and
tumbles unnumbered during that first
year. But it could be only a little
while, / though, before some brilliant
future would open up to me. worked
hard, so hard that sometimes there
came tears of bitterness that blurred
the magnifying glasses for a moment.
1t was work so distasteful so unlike
my dreams had pictured. But then
my thoughts reverted to the biogra-
phies. All great people had been so
hampered. took comfort, resorted to
the Il will" process; l turned my
thoughts successward and redoubled
my energies. With perhaps small
feeling of pride in the self sacrifice,
gave up my friends and frivolities
and stuck TO my work
To be sure, all my efforts were not
without their reward. The monthly
stipend grew somewhat stouter, re-
sponsibilities were added to me, and
occasional compliments began to drift
my way from the EDITORS desk. My
position was changed until, after three
years, began in a tiny way to be
somebody. "Kind friends. sweet
friends" began to meet me with pleas
ant words on my wonderful success"
and dear old ladies congratulated my
mother on her daughters brilliant
career" until her head was quite
turned. 1 admit I felt at times bit
puffed up with Importance, but in the
noon glare of my consciousness l had
to hide a smile at the absurdity of it
ALL for 1 knew in my dream-filled
heart that this they called success was
not even a faint shadowing of what |
had determined on. 1 tried to write
now and then things that my best
fancy dictated. and though there were
words of praise from a scattered few,
I knew that the callous editor read
them not at all, or, if he did, probably
commented, pretty good rot, l guess,
if anybody likes that kind of stuff"
Four years, five years have gone and
the horizon is still far, far away and a
little cloudy; the brilliant future, it
seems, is under lock and Fate appears
to have mislaid the key. l stop bit
and look about me. l have never
loosened my grasp for moment on the
dream of success, indeed | have fed it
fatter all the time and have worked
toward it always; but so far as re-
suits go, 1 seem just as many leagues
away from that future. l have writ
ten dozen or more things that /
thought really good, quite worthy to
go to the magazines as fore-runners
of what is to come from my pen in
the day of my greatness. The dozen
or more. somewhat soiled and travel
worm. are still in my desk, having
shown no disposition to stay long
away from me.
1 can think of nothing the subjects
of biographies could possibly have
done that have not done. And now,
taking pause to look about me. sit
right down in the middle of the road
the same that / have been travelling
at such a furious pace, seeming to
get nowhere in particular-and ponder
little. Could they have been wrong.
all those biographies, or is it that l
am all wrong? With such perfect
unanimity they told the same story,
only the names and dates varying.
Now what am | to do, poor, misled
worker that am? Having heretofore
walked always with my nose down to
the rules of success carefully laid out |
in the books think in future shall
throw biographies to the winds and |
begin living out new, strange
biography all my own. shall work as
1 wish, unfettered, unguided by others
experience and though, and probably. |
the little tin god Success may still |
turn up his little tin nose at me, |
shall have my joy and my freedom.
Biographies of the great ones may &C |
hang!--National Magazine.