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all ready to touch a match to。〃
I dragged myself out and lit the fire； and then sat down disconsolate。
〃Mortimer； don't sit there and catch your death of cold。 Come to bed。〃
As I was stepping in she said：
〃But wait a moment。 Please give the child some more of the medicine。〃
Which I did。 It was a medicine which made a child more or less lively；
so my wife made use of its waking interval to strip it and grease it all
over with the goose oil。 I was soon asleep once more； but once more I
had to get up。
〃Mortimer； I feel a draft。 I feel it distinctly。 There is nothing so
bad for this disease as a draft。 Please move the crib in front of the
fire。〃
I did it； and collided with the rug again； which I threw in the fire。
Mrs。 McWilliams sprang out of bed and rescued it and we had some words。
I had another trifling interval of sleep； and then got up； by request；
and constructed a flax…seed poultice。 This was placed upon the child's
breast and left there to do its healing work。
A wood…fire is not a permanent thing。 I got up every twenty minutes and
renewed ours； and this gave Mrs。 McWilliams the opportunity to shorten
the times of giving the medicines by ten minutes； which was a great
satisfaction to her。 Now and then； between times； I reorganized the
flax…seed poultices； and applied sinapisms and other sorts of blisters
where unoccupied places could be found upon the child。 Well； toward
morning the wood gave out and my wife wanted me to go down cellar and get
some more。 I said：
〃My dear； it is a laborious job； and the child must be nearly warm
enough； with her extra clothing。 Now mightn't we put on another layer of
poultices and〃
I did not finish； because I was interrupted。 I lugged wood up from below
for some little time； and then turned in and fell to snoring as only a
man can whose strength is all gone and whose soul is worn out。 Just at
broad daylight I felt a grip on my shoulder that brought me to my senses
suddenly。 My wife was glaring down upon me and gasping。 As soon as she
could command her tongue she said：
〃It is all over！ All over！ The child's perspiring！ What shall we do？〃
〃Mercy； how you terrify me！ I don't know what we ought to do。 Maybe if
we scraped her and put her in the draft again〃
〃Oh； idiot！ There is not a moment to lose！ Go for the doctor。
Go yourself。 Tell him he must come； dead or alive。〃
I dragged that poor sick man from his bed and brought him。 He looked at
the child and said she was not dying。 This was joy unspeakable to me；
but it made my wife as mad as if he had offered her a personal affront。
Then he said the child's cough was only caused by some trifling
irritation or other in the throat。 At this I thought my wife had a mind
to show him the door。 Now the doctor said he would make the child cough
harder and dislodge the trouble。 So he gave her something that sent her
into a spasm of coughing； and presently up came a little wood splinter or
so。
〃This child has no membranous croup；〃 said he。 〃She has been chewing a
bit of pine shingle or something of the kind； and got some little slivers
in her throat。 They won't do her any hurt。〃
〃No；〃 said I； 〃I can well believe that。 Indeed； the turpentine that is
in them is very good for certain sorts of diseases that are peculiar to
children。 My wife will tell you so。〃
But she did not。 She turned away in disdain and left the room； and since
that time there is one episode in our life which we never refer to。
Hence the tide of our days flows by in deep and untroubled serenity。
＇Very few married men have such an experience as McWilliams's； and so the
author of this book thought that maybe the novelty of it would give it a
passing interest to the reader。＇
MY FIRST LITERARY VENTURE
I was a very smart child at the age of thirteenan unusually smart
child； I thought at the time。 It was then that I did my first newspaper
scribbling； and most unexpectedly to me it stirred up a fine sensation in
the community。 It did； indeed； and I was very proud of it； too。 I was a
printer's 〃devil；〃 and a progressive and aspiring one。 My uncle had me
on his paper （the Weekly Hannibal journal； two dollars a year in advance
five hundred subscribers； and they paid in cordwood； cabbages； and
unmarketable turnips）； and on a lucky summer's day he left town to be
gone a week； and asked me if I thought I could edit one issue of the
paper judiciously。 Ah！ didn't I want to try！ Higgins was the editor on
the rival paper。 He had lately been jilted； and one night a friend found
an open note on the poor fellow's bed； in which he stated that he could
not longer endure life and had drowned himself in Bear Creek。 The friend
ran down there and discovered Higgins wading back to shore。 He had
concluded he wouldn't。 The village was full of it for several days；
but Higgins did not suspect it。 I thought this was a fine opportunity。
I wrote an elaborately wretched account of the whole matter； and then
illustrated it with villainous cuts engraved on the bottoms of wooden
type with a jackknifeone of them a picture of Higgins wading out into
the creek in his shirt； with a lantern； sounding the depth of the water
with a walking…stick。 I thought it was desperately funny； and was
densely unconscious that there was any moral obliquity about such a
publication。 Being satisfied with this effort I looked around for other
worlds to conquer； and it struck me that it would make good； interesting
matter to charge the editor of a neighboring country paper with a piece
of gratuitous rascality and 〃see him squirm。〃
I did it； putting the article into the form of a parody on the 〃Burial of
Sir John Moore〃and a pretty crude parody it was； too。
Then I lampooned two prominent citizens outrageouslynot because they
had done anything to deserve； but merely because I thought it was my duty
to make the paper lively。
Next I gently touched up the newest strangerthe lion of the day； the
gorgeous journeyman tailor from Quincy。 He was a simpering coxcomb of
the first water； and the 〃loudest〃 dressed man in the state。 He was an
inveterate woman…killer。 Every week he wrote lushy 〃poetry〃 for the
journal； about his newest conquest。 His rhymes for my week were headed；
〃To MARY IN Hl；〃 meaning to Mary in Hannibal； of course。 But while
setting up the piece I was suddenly riven from head to heel by what I
regarded as a perfect thunderbolt of humor； and I compressed it into a
snappy footnote at the bottomthus： 〃We will let this thing pass； just
this once； but we wish Mr。 J。 Gordon Runnels to understand distinctly
that we have a character to sustain； and from this time forth when he
wants to commune with his friends in hl； he must select some other
medium than the columns of this journal！〃
The paper came out； and I never knew any little thing attract so much
attention as those playful trifles of mine。
For once the Hannibal Journal was in demanda novelty it had not
experienced before。 The whole town was stirred。 Higgins dropped in with
a double…barreled shotgun early in the forenoon。 When he found that it
was an infant （as he called me） that had