ter of 1892  sky. Joy deserted my , and for a long, long time I lived in doubt, anxiety and fear. Books lost t of t. A little story called quot;t King,quot;  to Mr. Anagnos, of titution for t t of trouble. In order to make tter clear, I must set forts connected ice to my teaco myself compels me to relate.

    I e tory er I o speak. e ayed up at Fern Quarry later to me ties of te foliage, and it seems t ions revived tory,  t I ;making up a story,quot; as c doo e it before ts flo a sense of joy in tion. ords and images came tripping to my finger ends, and as I t out sentence after sentence, I e te. Noo me  effort, it is a pretty sure sign t t t stray  I regretfully dismiss. At t time I eagerly absorbed everyt a t of aut be quite sure of t is because so many of my impressions come to me thers eyes and ears.

    ory o my teac in tiful passages, and my annoyance at being interrupted to ion of a ed. At dinner it o t I could e so well. Some one asked me if I  in a book.

    tion surprised me very muc test recollection of  read to me. I spoke up and said, quot;O is my story, and I ten it for Mr. Anagnos.”

    Accordingly I copied tory and sent it to  ed t I sitle from quot;Autumn Leavesquot; to quot;t King,quot; ory to t-office myself, feeling as if I tle dreamed  birt.

    Mr. Anagnos  King,quot; and publis in one of titution reports.

    ttle on only a s time  a story similar to quot;t King,quot; called quot;t Fairiesquot; by Miss Margaret t. Canby, ;Birdie an