ANOTHER SCENE. TRUE FLAG OFFICE, TEN O'CLOCK, A. M. _Editor at his desk, with pens as before, and an additional pencil in his hair_.--Enter jaunty bonnet, with gay feathers, elegant veil, rich broadcloth cloak, and silk dress--rather magnificent, if not more so. Editor hastens to place a chair.
_Jaunty Bonnet_, (in a low, half-whisper, under the veil)--Excuse me--I'm a little out of breath, running up stairs. I've brought Mr. Snooks to introduce me.
Mr. Snooks turned out to be a Fern manuscript. The jaunty bonnet carried him in an elegant reticule, in close proximity to a coquettish hankerchief, redolent of perfume. The jaunty bonnet turned out to be--Fanny herself! Mr. Snooks was for sale, and we bought him. Price, two dollars a column--cheap enough for Snooks. We afterwards dotted his _i's_, dressed him up a little, changed his name--Snooks was a bad name--and printed him.
This was our first interview with the witty and brilliant Fanny. Certainly, we did not judge that so gay and fashionable an attire had that morning issued from a dismal garret, in a dark and narrow lane--that those well-rounded proportions drew their sole subsistence from the "homoeopathic broth" of niggardly landladies. Indeed, no starving necessity had compelled her to resort to the pen. With a true woman's spirit, she believed she could do something for herself, and determined to try. We liked her articles--she liked our pay--so we engaged her as a regular contributor. We suggested that she should write stories, in addition to her sketches--by which arrangement she might easily earn fifteen dollars a week. She pleaded the necessity of finishing everything she undertook, at one sitting, and her inability to elaborate a long story. Still she desired more employment; at the same time, the too-frequent repetition of "Fanny Fern" in our columns would injure both herself and us; so the matter was compromised by giving her a second _nom de plume_--that of "Olivia,"--which was attached to a number of her sketches.
Up to this period, Mrs. Farrington had no reputation whatever as a writer, and we purchased her articles for their intrinsic merits only, paying for them what they were actually worth to us. As her reputation increased, and her value as a contributor was heightened, her remuneration was augmented accordingly. Although we paid her five dollars a column,--the columns generally falling short one-third, at that,--we cheerfully gave her her own terms, until, when she demanded twelve dollars a column, we thought we would just take three or four days to scratch our editorial ear, and think about it. In this place, it may be proper to state that, at one time, without giving us any notice whatever, she broke her engagement, and entered into a contract with a New York publisher, by which she was to write exclusively for his paper for one year. The terms offered were liberal, and for her sake, we rejoiced at her good future. But munificent promises do not always lead to rich fulfilment; and it was not long before Mrs. Farrington gladly returned to those in whose service she had always been promptly and handsomely paid.