Soon, however, her mood changed, and resuming her seat, she continued in a milder tone, "Did you ever hear that I was an authoress ?" "An authoress!" repeated Mary--"an authoress! Why no; are you ?" "To be sure I am," answered Sal.

"What's to hinder.

Haven't I told you repeatedly, that I once possessed an unusually large amount of judgment; and this, added to my knowledge of grammar, and uncommon powers of imagination, enabled me to produce a work which, but for an unaccountable freak of the publisher, would have rendered my name immortal." "I don't understand," said Mary, and Sally continued: "You see, I wrote about six hundred pages of foolscap, which the publisher to whom it was sent for examination was impolite enough to return, together with a note, containing, as I suppose, his reasons for rejection; but if he thinks I read it he's mistaken.

I merely glanced at the words, 'Dear Madam--We regret--' and then threw it aside.

It was a terrible disappointment, and came near turning my brain; but there are other publishing houses in the world, and one of these days I shall astonish mankind.