1896. 



THE AMERICAN BEE-KEEP F.R. 



:!2: 



but you could iiave had it last year lor 

 5 shilliiiKf'. " TJiis letter also was toss- 

 ed into the fire. 



Tim ijpxt was dirct^ted in an untidy 

 scrawl, with many suiudgcs and ortho- 

 graphical nnstak(>s. It ran thus: 



oninTcl sur i wos so Klt'cl to b<'re of yur suscc 

 and so wtjs niothur ijin' suryu disorvd it i 

 enny won did for yu liov worked so long fo; 

 nuthiu and liad so much trubbio i hop yu air 

 vcrry well i t-hud bo so gli'd if yu cud giv nio 

 sum worke niotlier ht'S bi'n ill and fcther i3 

 out of worko and i hc^v had nutbing to do 

 for 3 luoritlis and iirises air so hi just now' 

 we air leviug now at number 19 Sidney street. 

 yur obodunt servent, SSophey Mathews. 



"Poor little thing!" said Jack to 

 himself. •. "iShe had rather good shoul- 

 ders. I must see if I can find anything 

 for her to ilo. ' ' 



The next letter was from a fellow 

 student of his who had been rather suc- 

 cessful as a portrait painter, but of 

 whom Jack-had seen nothing since their 

 student, days, except now and then 

 when they had met by accident : 



Dear Jack— I really must congratulate you 

 on your ,unpreeedented success. Everybody is, 

 asking, me about you. I feel quite proud of 

 taving been your fellow student. But I always 

 knew that you were going to do great things. 

 "Wiry, I never >saw any one get along as you 

 did. You simply galloped, while other fellows 

 crawled. You were certain to make your mark' 

 Booner' or latdr. I wish you would come round 

 and criticist' the portrait which I am painting 

 of Mrs. Bolton, the celebrated beauty. It is, 

 nearly flnis)i(»d, ai^^ I should so like to see 

 what you would think of it. I am "at home" 

 Thursday afternoons. 



"The devil you are! So am I," said 

 Jack. 



The nest letter that he took up was 

 directed in a hand the sight of which 

 iwo or three years ago would have 

 paused all his pulses to throb witn emo- 

 tion. 



"Surely I know that writing," be 

 said to himself. "Well, I should think 

 I do. Let's see what she has to say!" 



Dear Mr. Torrixgtox— Let me congratu- 

 late you 'a' thousand times on your success. 

 We all knew that you were going to be famous 

 sooner or later— 



"I wonder who 'everybody' is!" 

 Everybody says that you are the first black 

 and white artist of the day. 



"Ho\y strange that you never told me 

 sol" thought Jack. 



Your drawings in Up to Date 'are simply 

 lovely. Mother says she never saw anythint, 

 that she liked so much in its way. We bay-e 

 had all the .^ketches that you made of 'ine 

 framed and hung up, as everybody is aakinC' 

 to see them. Could jou possibly find time to 



run down Here at Ji,aster? jyiotner says snti 

 woi^ld be so jjleascd if you could. Tlie Middle- 

 tons are to be h(!re, and I exiieet W(; shall have 

 a jolly time. But I suppose you liave so many 

 friends now that you can hardly call youi 

 time your own. However, I hujie you don't 

 quite forget old fri(^uds. ' 



Jack smiled to hinii-^elf as he read 

 this — a dreamy smile, full of memories.' 

 Two years ago what would not such an 

 invitation have meant to him? A little 

 of that abounding faith in his future 

 which Mabel now declared herself to 

 have felt all along would have done 

 wonders toward helping him to success.' 

 And this was the girl who had refused 

 him three times. Three times — nay, 300 

 times, if he were to count the unspoken 

 lauguafio of the eyes. At first it had 

 amu.sed her to po.se for him, but when 

 she found that the sketches were not 

 published she soon wearied of it. 



Do come, and I will pose for you as much as 

 you like. Yours very sincerely, 



Mabel, Strangman. 



P. S. — Do you remember the sketch which 

 you made of me sitting in the boat under the 

 old willow? I wonder have you it still? 



When Jack had finished reading this 

 document, he tilted back his chair, 

 threw back his head and laughed aloud. 

 Then he took it up and read it over 

 again, and then he laughed again. His 

 favorite fox terrier, which was lying 

 a.sleep on the hearth rug, jumped up at 

 the sound of the unwonted merriment, 

 but finding nothing more interesting 

 than an inanimate bit of paper he curl- 

 ed himself up into a round ball and 

 went to sleep again. Then Jack got up, 

 pushed back his chair, put his hands in 

 his pockets and walked over to the win- 

 dow, humming to himself something 

 which sounded very like: 



And saddle thou my gray war steed, 

 For I'll go and woo elsewhere. 



And the only letter that he answered 

 was that from the little model — Ex- 

 change. 



It is said that the first book printed 

 in this country from stereotype plates 

 was a catechism by a Mr. Watts. This 

 work was ;issued in New York in the 

 year .1813 and was compiled for the 

 benefit of. ,the children of several New 

 York churches. i 



A bushel of sweet potatoes equals 46 

 pounds in Iowa and 56 pounds in most, 

 of the other states. 



