“‘The Illustrated Totem Pole’”—this from the wounded warrior in the chair.
All these names being rejected, they decided to leave the choice of names to the editor, to which position Mr. Selborne was unanimously chosen.
“All contributions,” he announced, “must be in my hands at five o’clock this afternoon. The paper will then be put to press, and will be read aloud at precisely eight o’clock, on deck, in front of Stateroom 2 (Mr. Percival’s), if the weather permits; if not, in a corner of the lower cabin, after the supper table has been cleared.”
All that day the literary circle thus suddenly formed were hard at work at their manuscripts; and many were the gales of laughter in which the girls indulged, as they compared notes from time to time. The editor, it should be said, had laid down the rule that any contribution might be in verse or prose, but if the latter, it should not contain over twelve hundred words.
One by one in the course of the afternoon, the manuscripts, signed by fictitious names, were dropped into a box provided by the editor, who was busy, meanwhile, not only with his own contribution, but in arranging an artistic heading for the sheet which was to form the first page of the paper. He had also furnished all the aspiring authors and authoresses with sermon paper of uniform size, so that the whole collection might afterward be bound together, if desired.
Evening came at last, and to the gratification of all concerned, the fog lifted, so that there was a bright sunset, which would render out-of-doors reading easy until after ten o’clock. The party accordingly met at the appointed spot on deck, having kept their plan a profound secret among themselves, so as not to have strangers present at the reading.
Mrs. Percival sat just within the door of her stateroom, while the rest grouped themselves outside in various comfortable attitudes. The editor, with a formidable-looking flat package in his hand, took his position on the seat by the rail, where the light was favorable for reading.
“I will first,” he said, “pass round the title page of this unique periodical, merely premising that its simple and musical title was suggested in part by the name of the island, the wood-clad shores of which we were passing when the idea of the paper was first promulgated.”
The title sheet was accordingly inspected and praised, with shouts of laughter, by the circle of authors. Fortunately it has been preserved, and can be given here in fac-simile, just as it came from the hand of Rossiter and of his sister, who, he admitted, had helped him by drawing the lifelike designs with which it was embellished.