When I was turning out copy I was almost happy.

I was not Malcolm Herrick: I was the heir of all the ages entering into my kingdom." "Yes, I know what you mean," replied the friend to whom he had said this: "the children were strewing flowers, and there were timbrels and harps, and they had crowned you with laurel leaves, as though you were a conquering hero." "Something of that sort," he returned laughing.

"But you must not make fun of my sweet mistress from Parnassus; it kept me sane and cool to woo my reluctant Muse.

At times she frowned, and then I set my teeth hard and worked like a navvy; but when she smiled my pen seemed to fly in the sunlight, and I was warm and happy." Malcolm sent a copy of his book to Dinah, and she was not long in acknowledging it.

"We have both read it, and think it beautiful," she wrote.