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Updated: May 25, 2025
"Heed not all thou hearest, John; no, nor believe all thou seest." "But what about my pencraft? Can I do aught for thee, Priscilla?" "Mayhap." "And what is it, maid? Well thou knowest that it is more than joy for me to do thy bidding." "Nay, I know not what feeling 'more than joy' can be, unless haply it topple over t' other side and become woe, and I would be loth to breed thee woe."
It would ill become me, whose name has been spread abroad by those former collections bearing this title of "Tales of my Landlord," and who have, by the candid voice of a numerous crowd of readers, been taught to think that I merit not the empty fame alone, but also the more substantial rewards, of successful pencraft it would, I say, ill become me to suffer this my youngest literary babe, and, probably at the same time, the last child of mine old age, to pass into the world without some such modest apology for its defects, as it has been my custom to put forth on preceding occasions of the like nature.
And to have the same great creature leaning her head on his shoulder, and listening with a charming complacency, while he purred to her of love and calm delights, alternate with still greater triumphs; for he was to turn dramatic writer, for her sake, was to write plays, a woman the hero, and love was to inspire him, and passion supply the want of pencraft. All this was heavenly.
"Get thee back to thy pencraft, and when it is done come to me at the Fort, I have work for thee." "Yes, sir." And the young man turned again into the house where Priscilla, quite calm, but a little subdued in manner, awaited him. "And now wilt thou set thy name at the foot, Priscilla?" asked the scribe when the fourth side of the paper was nearly covered. "Let me see.
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