Year: 1872

"Mail's not in Miss"


| How could that man in the store
! tell me this with such a solid air,
and then put up that brown parcel
! for that brown calico woman as in
differently as if it was of no conse-
quense in the world?


"Pm looking for a letter." said
Brown Calico, sleepily, "folks been
gone nigh fortnight"


"Talking spell with the old man,
amt they 2" inquired Jones, evi-
IDENTIFY finding her the more in ter
esting of the two.


eyes, but 1 says to Sairy Ann"


never heard what, went out of
the store so full of disappointment
and disgust that had to stop and
wonder which way to turn. My ra-
pid walk in the bracing October air,
and the enthusiasm of hope that my
vivid imagination had conjured up
in regard to that mythical letter,
which now seemed likely never to
have being, had put me into a state
of excitement that could not be cool
ed down all at once, and there was
no safety valve at hand to carry it
off.


"Wait for the train," was my first
thought, but the track looked hope
lessly suggestive of cars in the dis
tance. did not care to sit with
Mr.. Jones and be catechised respect
ing my past, present and failure; the
messy rock at the elevation in the
road was picturesque, but decided
ly cool at 4 O'Clock in the afternoon;
and wondering for the twentieth
time that q forlon little country
store should be nestled in the midst
of so much beauty, l toiled up the
ascent weary and dispirited-verily
wishing that could have plunged
suddenly into the office whence the
expected letter was to emanate, and
grasp the delinquent by the hair of
his head to bring him to a realizing
sense of what he owed to society in
general and me in particular.


OF course, the creature was not re-
sponsible for the delay of the cars;
but for a week had daily taken this
trip Of mile-quite to the amuse-
laugh and hint at the attractions of
Mr.. Jones, whose attractions consis-
ted in not having a wife, and living
where men are scarce and women
plenty. The mystery of the letter
was not the least delightful part of
it; and l would not have the post
mark and handwriting seen for fear
of endless questions and teasings
about my gentleman correspondent.


For was spending those golden
October days with friends who
shared their cares and pleasures
with me, and expected the same in
return; but in this matter was an
arch-hypocrite, for it was my pet
secret-brooded over, and jealously
guarded from every approach. l
had been trying my wings little in
the world, and it remained to be
seen whether 1 should fall to the
ground hopelessly crushed, or soar
away, on a cloud of fame, to some
height quite inaccessible to Ordina-
ry minds.


OF course had been writing; and
l almost thought that no one had
ever done it before. For a month
or moro l had been drinking in the
beauty that lay around me-the
beauty of hill and stream and chang
ing leaves and autumn sunsets-un-
til it seemed to me that it would be
quite despicable to live such a life
and only eat and drink and sleep in
the ordinary way. So, in wild,
delirious thirst for fame land truth
compels me to add, for money also)
put pen to paper, with what l full
ly believed to be the sudden inspi-
ration of slumbering genius, and
the result was actually q story 1t
had an orthodox beginning, middle
and end, with a hero and heroine,
conversation amusing, instructive
and pathetic, and an astonishing
number of chapters and pages. In
deed l was amazed at the sWiftness
with which it grew beneath my
hand. and in my ignorance consi-
dered this an additional recommen-
dation.


l wrote it by snatches, for some
of the family were always hunting
me I'D and commenting on my fond
ness for solitude; and / had read il
so often to myself that I almost
knew it by heart. l aimed high,
and having selected a popular peri
odical, l sent it off with a modest
note, in which the editor was favor
ed with my address and requested
speedy answer. That was two
weeks ago, and no answer yet.


1t was too provoking, when this
was Saturday, to be told that the
mail was not in, for must now
wait until Monday before 1 had an
other chance. The post office was a
mile off, and as l was the only one
who expected anything, none of
them would take the trouble to
make a second visit


"Any letter ?'' as 1 approach the
house.


| shook my head with feeling of
bitterness as l reflected that it was
harder for me than any OF the rest.
People who go for letters are al