irksome, even to one brought up in a Presbyterian minister's family. But she stood well
in her classes, and made warm friends of girls
anil teachers. Even at this time her literary
talent showed itself, and one of the poems
which she handed in as a composition was sent
away by her teacher for publication. The
verses called "De Massa ob de Sheepfol" she
wrote when she was only a young girl, though
they were never printed until they were put
into the mouth of Mxanna, a character in her
second book, "Towhead."
She remained at Mount Holyoke two years. A classmate who had left school earlier to teach on Cape Coil, being unable to continue with the work, urged Miss McLean to take the school. She decided to do so, nmch to the sur- prise of her family; and, almost before they could accustom themselves to the idea, she had gone to the scene of her labors. She found her- self amid surroundings that were full of strange- ness. Sailors on .shore were a new type to her. The idioms of the people, their customs and traditions, impressed her with their novelty. For five months she taught and learned at Cape Cod. After reaching home, she used, at odd moments, to put upon paper recollections of these months, until they took on the form and sequence of a book. Since this was done simply for her own entertainment and with no thought that the manuscript would meet other eyes than her own, she used the familiar names ; and, when the story seemed finished, .she put it in a box, and shoved it away on an ujiper shelf in her grandfather's library, dismissing the matter from her mintl. A kinsman living in Boston, in touch with the makers of books, happening to express the desire that Miss McLean would write .something for publication (since he had noticed that she was a most clever letter-writer), she took the manuscript down from the library shelf, and, without con- sulting any one, nailed a cover on the same little wooden box which had held the loose sheets all this time, and drove to the village express office to speed the literary venture on its way. Then she returned home to await the verdict. The suspense was brief . The pub- lisher sat all night over the manuscript, and wrote the next morning that he wished to bring it out at once. Miss McLean informed him that the names were familiar in the locality where she had been; but he was a young mem- ber of the hrm, and it was his first venture in publishing, as it was hers in novel-writing. The story, moreover, was ideal and not intended to be taken literally. For these reasons suffi- cient importance was not attached to the fact that local names were used. The book met with great favor, passing from edition to edi- tion. But presently the people on the Cape began to show that they felt themselves ag- grieved. This caused the author the keenest pain. She could not forgive henself then, nor can she now. Still there was "naught set down in malice," and surely the gracious pictures of their deeper experiences are depicted with so gentle a touch that it would seem the sketcher and the sketched might still across "the narrer neck o" land" clasp friendly hands. Her pub- lishers were desirous to have something further from her pen, and she hurriedly prepared a second book, "Towhead." Stories under her name appeared at intervals in various maga- zines, and a compilation of these formed her third volume, which was called " Some Other Folks." She had written two others, "Last- chance Junction" and "Leon Pontifex," when in 1887 she became the wife of Franklin Lynde Greene, a Westerner, educated at Annapolis. In the West, where she spent her married life of a few brief years, twin boys were born to her, but of these she was soon bereft. In 1890 Mr. (ireene died, and, widowed and childless, Mrs. Cireene returned to New England. Several ensuing years were passed in rest and travel. She took a European trip, and subseiiuently tarried at different points in Nova Scotia, visiting also various parts of Maine. It was after these summers in Maine that she wrote " Vesty of the Basins," a book that has had phenomenal success. In this case, though local characters are sketched with a free hand, and the dwellers in a small place know that their own manners and lives furnish the basis of the story, they read its pages with delight, and their frequent letters of appreciation show the deep love they bear the author. A well-known Englishman says of "Vesty" : " I have read it a dozen times, and 1 shall probably read it a dozen times
