fail on the afternoon train. Then I drove to the
homes of the people I wished to use for subjects and made appointments
for sittings, and ransacked the cabin for costumes. The letter came on
the eight A.M. train. At ten o'clock I was photographing Colonel Lupton
beside my dining-room fireplace for the father in the story. At eleven
I was dressing and posing Miss Lizzie Huart for the princess. At twelve
I was picturing in one of my bed rooms a child who served finely for
Little Sister, and an hour later the same child in a cemetery three
miles in the country where I used mounted butterflies from my cases,
and potted plants carried from my conservatory, for a graveyard scene.
The time was early November, but God granted sunshine that day, and
short focus blurred the background. At four o'clock I was at the
schoolhouse, and in the best-lighted room with five or six models, I
was working on the spelling bee scenes. By six I was in the darkroom
developing and drying these plates, every one of which was good enough
to use. I did my best work with printing-out paper, but I was compelled
to use a developing paper in this extremity, because it could be worked
with much more speed, dried a little between blotters, and mounted. At
three o'clock in the morning I was typing the quotations for the
pictures, at four the parcel stood in the hall for the six o'clock
train, and I realized that I wanted a drink, food, and sleep, for I had
not stopped a second for anything from the time of reading Mr.
Maxwell's letter until his order was ready to mail. For the following
ten years I was equally prompt in doing all work I undertook, whether
pictures or manuscript, without a thought of consideration for self;
and I disappointed the confident expectations of my nearest and dearest
by remaining sane, normal, and almost without exception the healthiest
woman they knew."

This story and its pictures were much praised, and in the following
year the author was asked for several stories, and even used bird
pictures and natural history sketches, quite an innovation for a
magazine at that time. With this encouragement she wrote and
illustrated a short story of about ten thousand words, and sent it to
the Century. Richard Watson Gilder advised Mrs. Porter to enlarge it to
book size, which she did. This book is "The Cardinal." Following Mr.
Gilder's advice, she recast the tale and, starting with the mangled
body of a cardinal some marksman had left in