OCTOBER 205 



" Men were so cold they forgot to sing Gamlt 



I believe Gamtt Norge" is the National Anthem 

 of Norway, and I am glad to convince myself that 

 in the matter of couleur locale my second story was 

 a distinct advance on my first. I suppose I must 

 have burnt this manuscript as well as the other ; at 

 any rate, it does not survive. 



My third effort was of the short story order. 

 I was about sixteen when I wrote it, and sent it in 

 trembling hope to Dr. George Macdonald, who at 

 that time edited a magazine which made the chief 

 brightness of my childish life Good Words for the 

 Young. I was not kept long in suspense. My 

 manuscript was returned to me with a kind, firm 

 note from the editor, who, in unhesitatingly reject- 

 ing me and my young effort, advised me to put 

 aside the pen and devote myself to study. I have 

 a distinct recollection of burning this letter the very 

 hour I received it and with the letter the luckless 

 story for fear my family should come to know 

 of my shame. From that day to this the fact has 

 been locked a secret in my own bosom, and I now 

 for the first time reveal it under press of the 

 exigencies of truth in telling this history. 



Oct. j/. Failure if a bitter is often a salutary 

 experience. In gardening it is the necessary fore- 

 runner of success, since all one's best results ensue 

 from previous failure. Now that the summer is 

 over, it is well to consider one's failures and the 

 reason of them, and to balance them against the 

 successes ; so I shall jot down a few things which 

 have baffled me, not necessarily of late, but in 



