cots.har.IMG.0600.jpg
The scheme set forth in the prospectus and advertising matter enclosed in your
letter attracts me by its picturesqueness. There is an "octopus" twang about it
that charms [?] and satisfies even a Southern
socialist democrat. I have known all along that if I ever cross my legs in the
seats of the mighty, I shall have to be lifted there by main strength: and Mr.
Clark's derrick seems to be the thing I have been looking for.
But the question arises—comes in fact as the eclipse did, swiftly and darkly: Do you propose to edit this scheme in the interest of literature? If so, you can count me out. I am wondering all the time how it is that my name has been included in a list of Eminent Persons. I hope I know myself by this time, and a part of this knowledge clings mournfully about the fact that the stuff I turn out in my leisure moments is not literature and has no claim to distinction. I am literary in the meaning one gives to the word when we see the country correspondent of a weekly newspaper announce that Miss Nannie Goodwin Ketchum, of Greene County, Georgia, has a fine literary talent.
Still, if you think you can give a cornfield hand a showing, and you are not
afraid to fish a cold dumpling out of the pot-liquor with your fingers, perhaps
I can meet your wishes. I have two stories in prospect. One I have called (in my
mind) "One Mile to Shady Dale." It is a story of Georgia folk about the time of
the beginning of the Civil War. The other is "Qua: A Romance of the Revolution,"
Qua being the name of an African prince who was brought to this country about
1760. He died
cots.har.IMG.0599.jpg
in
Augusta less than fifty years ago. According to tradition, he cut quite a figure
in that horrible [?]cyclone of war, rapine, and
murder which was centered in what is now Wilkes County, and which historians
have refused to [?]investigate. My
great-grandmother and my grandmother were in the midst of this disturbance, and
[?] when a lad, I have heard them tell of their
experiences by the hour. Both of them knew Qua, and [?] Saleth, the son of an Arcadian
mother, and >Daniel McGirth, the cruelest and
bloodiest Tory that ever lived. You know, of course, that so far as literary art is concerned, I am poverty-stricken; and
you know too, that my style and methods will cause you to pull your hair. You
knew all about that before you invited me into the scheme.
Therefore, if I can send you something, which shall it be? You will never know which is the worst until you have [?]seen both. It is a question whether I can send the M.J. by Christmas. I can't promise.[?]to Europe, and I can't work on the story till he returns in September.
By the Center for Digital Research in the Humanities at the University of Nebraska–Lincoln, in conjunction with the Center for the Humanities at Washington University in St. Louis.