"This child has no membranous croup," said he. "She has been chewing a
bit of pine shingle or something of the kind, and got some little slivers
in her throat. They won't do her any hurt."

"No," said I, "I can well believe that. Indeed, the turpentine that is
in them is very good for certain sorts of diseases that are peculiar to
children. My wife will tell you so."

But she did not. She turned away in disdain and left the room; and since
that time there is one episode in our life which we never refer to.
Hence the tide of our days flows by in deep and untroubled serenity.

[Very few married men have such an experience as McWilliams's, and so the
author of this book thought that maybe the novelty of it would give it a
passing interest to the reader.]






MY FIRST LITERARY VENTURE

I was a very smart child at the age of thirteen--an unusually smart
child, I thought at the time. It was then that I did my first newspaper
scribbling, and most unexpectedly to me it stirred up a fine sensation in
the community. It did, indeed, and I was very proud of it, too. I was a
printer's "devil," and a progressive and aspiring one. My uncle had me
on his paper (the Weekly Hannibal journal, two dollars a year in advance
--five hundred subscribers, and they paid in cordwood, cabbages, and