at I was saying
would soon end in his fairly going to sleep before I had developed
my new idea, unless I took some means forthwith of stimulating his
curiosity, or, in other words, of waking him into a proper state of
astonishment and attention. "William," said I, without another syllable
of preface, "I have got a new plan for finding all the money we want for
our expenses here."

He jerked his head up directly, and looked at me. What plan?

"This: The state of your eyes prevents you for the present from
following your profession as an artist, does it not? Very well. What are
you to do with your idle time, my dear? Turn author! And how are you to
get the money we want? By publishing a book!"

"Good gracious, Leah! are you out of your senses?" he exclaimed.

I put my arm round his neck and sat down on his knee (the course I
always take when I want to persuade him to anything with as few words as
possible).

"Now, William, listen patiently to me," I said. "An artist lies under
this great disadvantage in case of accidents--his talents are of no
service to him unless he can use his eyes and fingers. An author, on
the other hand, can turn his talents to account just as well by means of
other people's eyes and fingers as by means of his own. In your present
situation, therefore, you have nothing for it, as I said before, but
to turn author. Wait! and hear me out. The book I want you to make is a
book of all your stories. You shall repeat them, and I will write them
down from your dictation. Our manuscript shall be printed; we will sell
the book to the public, and so support ourselves honorably in adversity,
by doing the best we can to interest and amuse others."

While I was saying all this--I suppose in a very excitable manner--my
husband looked, as our young sailor-friend would phrase it, quite _taken
aback._ "You were always quick at contriving, Leah," he said; "but how
in the world came you to think of this plan?"

"I thought of it while you were telling them the gambling-house
adventure downstairs," I answered.

"It is an ingenious idea, and a bold idea," he went on, thoughtfully.
"But it is one thing to tell a story to a circle of friends, and another
thing to put it into a printed form for an audience of strangers.
Consider, my dear, that we are neither of us used to what is called
writing for the press."

"Very true," said I, "but nobody is used to it when they first begin,
and yet plenty of people have tri