I will put in some of the notices as "varieties," mothers are always foolish over their first-born.
Miss Wealthy Stevens paid for the book, and I received $32.
[A pleasing contrast to the receipts of six months only, in 1886, being $8,000 for the sale of books, and no new one; but I was prouder over the $32 than the $8,000.—L. M. A., 1886.]
April, 1855.—I am in the garret with my papers round me, and a pile of apples to eat while I write my journal, plan stories, and enjoy the patter of rain on the roof, in peace and quiet.
[Jo in the garret.—L. M. A.]
Being behindhand, as usual, I'll make note of the main events up to date, for I don't waste ink in poetry and pages of rubbish now. I've begun to live, and have no time for sentimental musing.
In October I began my school; father talked, mother looked after her boarders, and tried to help everybody. Anna was in Syracuse teaching Mrs. S———'s children.
My book came out; and people began to think that topsy-turvy Louisa would amount to something after all, since she could do so well as housemaid, teacher, seamstress, and story-teller. Perhaps she may.
In February I wrote a story for which C. paid $5 and asked for more.
In March I wrote a farce for W. Warren, and Dr. W. offered it to him; but W. W. was too busy.