8S 



THE GARDE N MAGAZINE 



October, 1912 



" To business that we love we rise betime 

 And go to 'i with delight." — Antony and Cleopa 



Business and the Parable of 

 the Mouse 



After a year or two of business upset by 

 election primaries and conventions, Double- 

 day, Page and Company have the strong 

 conviction that business will be encouragingly 

 active this faU. If the whole truth be told, 

 we have already had a foretaste of what we 

 hope is coming and feel as the Mouse did in the 

 Fable. Mr. Mouse, it will be remembered, 

 made his way into the sanctity of the wine 

 cellar to escape the pressing attentions of the 

 House Cat. In this quiet retreat he heard the 

 drip of wine from a leaky cask and, to quench 

 his thirst, placed himself where a drop fell 

 into his open mouth. Much revived he took 

 a second and a third, and then jumped to the 

 top of the cask, crying out courageously, 

 "Where is that cat that was looking for me? " 



Every day we put ten tons of magazine 

 mail into the mail car waiting here on our 

 siding; but, as you will see by the announce- 

 ments in other parts of this magazine, we are 

 not satisfied. If anybody reads these lines 

 who has missed the colored insert setting forth 

 our fall magazine and book plans, please turn 

 to those pages and read them. 



No High Cost of Magazine Living 



In these high-cost-of-living days, magazine 

 subscriptions alone have not gone up in price. 

 The magazines, as a rule, are even bigger and 

 better with more pages of text, more and 

 better pictures — all for prices that sometimes 

 astonish and depress the publisher. So one 

 can indulge a little in magazine subscriptions. 

 We respectfully suggest that you do not wait 

 until the last moment to renew your sub- 

 scriptions or to order new magazines. You 

 will do the publisher a great favor if you act 

 as early as you can. 



This year we emphasize especially some 

 short term subscriptions, an excellent way to 

 introduce the magazines to new people. We 

 call them 



Getting Acquainted Offers 



and we have contracted with Messrs. Harper 

 & Bros, to make these attractive offers. We 



will send any two of the following magazines 

 for four months for a dollar. 



Harper's Magazine 



Country Life in America 



Harper's Weekly (16 weeks) 



The World's Work 



The Garden Magazine. 

 If you want three of the magazines, remit 

 $1.50; for four magazines, remit $2.00. Only 

 to new subscribers is this offer made — the 

 price is less than cost of paper and printing; 

 the idea, as we have said, is to interest new 

 friends. 



The Wind Before the Dawn 



This fall we publish under the above title 

 a book which we feel will have a great influence 

 when it becomes generally read, as we are 

 sure it will be; and we think you will like to 

 read a part of a letter written by the author, 

 Mrs. Dell H. Munger. 



"First of all, I didn't think I could do it. 

 In January of 1904, Maynard Shipley, Prin- 

 cipal of the Palo Alto Academy, saw a letter I 

 had written to my son, who was one of his 

 pupils. Mr. Shipley came to me and advised 

 me to offer the letter just as it stood to The 

 Ladies' Home Journal, saying that it had 

 material which should be put before thepublic. 

 I objected on the ground that it was a personal 

 letter. He then advised that I put it in story 

 form, as that was the best way to present it, 

 since the point could be illustrated by ex- 

 amples. I shah never forget how I laughed! 



'"Lord bless your soul'! I exclaimed, 

 'the one thing in this whole world which I 

 would love best to do is to write a story — 

 but I can't.' 



"We argued till midnight, and as he stood 

 on the step, saying his good nights, he added 

 with conviction, 'The letter is a story in 

 itself 



"The following day was my cleaning day, 

 and the colored man who usuaUy cleaned my 

 rugs and floors did not come. The rugs had 

 been carried out on the clean grass to be swept 

 before I found I was not to have his help. I 

 am a creature of habit — cleaning day is 

 cleaning day, so I cleaned the rugs myself and 

 had lunch ready for my little family when 



they came home from school at noon, and 

 was so tired that I cried as I cooked it. 



"Now it so happens that I have never been 

 able to write a paper for the Club or even a 

 good letter, unless so tired that I was ready to 

 fight, or cry, or do some other drastic thing, 

 and remembering that fact, I sat down to my 

 writing table after the dishes had been 

 washed and began to try to outline a story. 

 Almost at once it began to take shape in 

 my mind. 



"I finished a fifty-page chapter and read it 

 aloud to the children as they ate their evening 

 meal. I don't expect ever again to know such 

 joy! Not that I expected to be able to finish 

 a book. I supposed the chapter I had to be 

 only the mirage of weariness and that when I 

 awoke rested and refreshed the next morning 

 that I would be as stupid as ever, but the 

 doing of that much had held many happy 

 thrills. 



"I didn't sleep that night, I was crazy to 

 write another chapter before it got away from 

 me. I planned it all out as I lay there in the 

 dark, and the first thing in the morning put 

 myself to the test to see if I could do it. 



"It came out splendidly and the children 

 had another chapter while they ate their lunch. 

 They demanded still another at night — and 

 got it. 



"I began to see that I had uncovered a vein 

 and went to work in real earnest — even began 

 to talk about 'the book' as if it were to be 

 finished. I wrote like mad, and always with 

 a fear that the power would depart. Having 

 peeped into heaven I could no more be satis- 

 fied without gaining entry. 



"I wrote with a lead pencil and on rough 

 paper, I wore blisters on my fingers from the 

 pencil, for the more in earnest I was with what 

 I was saying the tighter I gripped my medium. 

 I wore the blisters off, I wrapped the bleeding 

 fingers in adhesive straps and wrote on. I 

 was in a frenzy lest the power to write should 

 slip back into the unknown whence it had 

 come. I developed a corn on one finger from 

 the pencil which stays with me to this day." 



This has the ring of sincerity, we think you 

 will agree, and it is a pleasure to publish a 

 book so truthful, so genuine as "The Wind 

 Before the Dawn." 



