Ben, the Luggage Boy; Or, Among the Wharves
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THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO.'S POPULAR JUVENILES.
HARRY CASTLEMON.
HOW I CAME TO WRITE MY FIRST BOOK.
When I was sixteen years old I belonged to a composition class. It wasour custom to go on the recitation seat every day with clean slates, andwe were allowed ten minutes to write seventy words on any subject theteacher thought suited to our capacity. One day he gave out "What a ManWould See if He Went to Greenland." My heart was in the matter, andbefore the ten minutes were up I had one side of my slate filled. Theteacher listened to the reading of our compositions, and when they wereall over he simply said: "Some of you will make your living by writingone of these days." That gave me something to ponder upon. I did not sayso out loud, but I knew that my composition was as good as the best ofthem. By the way, there was another thing that came in my way just then.I was reading at that time one of Mayne Reid's works which I had drawnfrom the library, and I pondered upon it as much as I did upon what theteacher said to me. In introducing Swartboy to his readers he made useof this expression: "No visible change was observable in Swartboy'scountenance." Now, it occurred to me that if a man of his educationcould make such a blunder as that and still write a book, I ought to beable to do it, too. I went home that very day and began a story, "TheOld Guide's Narrative," which was sent to the _New York Weekly_, andcame back, respectfully declined. It was written on both sides of thesheets but I didn't know that this was against the rules. Nothingabashed, I began another, and receiving some instruction, from a friendof mine who was a clerk in a book store, I wrote it on only one side ofthe paper. But mind you, he didn't know what I was doing. Nobody knewit; but one day, after a hard Saturday's work--the other boys had beenout skating on the brick-pond--I shyly broached the subject to mymother. I felt the need of some sympathy. She listened in amazement, andthen said: "Why, do you think you could write a book like that?" Thatsettled the matter, and from that day no one knew what I was up to untilI sent the first four volumes of Gunboat Series to my father. Was itwork? Well, yes; it was hard work, but each week I had the satisfactionof seeing the manuscript grow until the "Young Naturalist" was allcomplete.
--_Harry Castlemon in the Writer._
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