Beulah - Page 199/348

"I am to understand, then, that the magazine is supported altogether

by gratuitous contributions?" said Beulah, unable to repress a

smile.

"Why, you see, authorship has become a sort of luxury," was the

hesitating reply.

"I think the last number of your magazine contained, among other

articles in the 'Editor's Drawer,' an earnest appeal to Southern

authors to come to the rescue of Southern periodicals?"

"True, madam. Southern intellect seems steeped in a lethargy from

which we are most faithfully endeavoring to arouse it."

"The article to which I allude also animadverted severely upon the

practice of Southern authors patronizing Northern publishing

establishments?"

"Most certainly it treated the subject stringently." He moved

uneasily.

"I believe the subscription is the same as that of the Northern

periodicals?"

A very cold bow was the only answer.

"I happen to know that Northern magazines are not composed of

gratuitous contributions; and it is no mystery why Southern authors

are driven to Northern publishers. Southern periodicals are mediums

only for those of elegant leisure, who can afford to write without

remuneration. With the same subscription price, you cannot pay for

your articles. It is no marvel that, under such circumstances, we

have no Southern literature. Unluckily, I belong to the numerous

class who have to look away from home for remuneration. Sir, I will

not trouble you with my manuscript." Rising, she held out her hand

for it; but the keen eyes had fallen upon a paragraph which seemed

to interest the editor, and, knitting his brows, he said

reluctantly: "We have not been in the habit of paying for our articles; but I

will look over this, and perhaps you can make it worth our while to

pay you. The fact is, madam, we have more trash sent us than we can

find room for; but if you can contribute anything of weight, why, it

will make a difference, of course. I did not recognize you at first,

but I now remember that I heard your valedictory to the graduating

class of the public schools. If we should conclude to pay you for

regular contributions, we wish nothing said about it."

"Very well. If you like the manuscript, and decide to pay me, you

can address me a note through the post office. Should I write for

the magazine I particularly desire not to be known." She lowered her

veil, and most politely he bowed her out.

She was accustomed to spend a portion of each Saturday in practicing

duets with Georgia Asbury, and thither she now directed her steps.

Unluckily, the parlor was full of visitors, and, without seeing any

of the family, she walked back into the music room. Here she felt

perfectly at home, and, closing the door, forgot everything but her

music. Taking no heed of the lapse of time, she played piece after

piece, until startled by the clear tones of the doctor's voice. She

looked up, and saw him standing in the door which opened into the

library, taking off his greatcoat.