Thesummerandwinterfollowingthe"FrostKing"iIspentwithmyfamilyinAlabama.Irecallwithdelightthathome-going.Everythinghadbuddedandblossomed.Iy."TheFrostKing"wasfotten.

    Whenthegroundwasstrewnwiththecrimsonandgoldenleavesofautumn,andthemusk-stedgrapesthatcoveredthearbourattheendofthegardeurninggoldenbrowninthesunshine,Ibegantowriteasketylife--ayearafterIhadwritten"TheFrostKing.”

    IwasstillexcessivelyscrupulousabouteverythingIwrote.ThethoughtthatwhatIwrotemightnotbeabsolutelymyowntormentedme.Noohesefearsexceptmyteacher.Astraivenesspreventedmefromreferringtothe"FrostKing";andoftenwhenanideaflashedoutinthecourseofversationIwouldspellsoftlytoher,"Iamnotsureitismine."Atothertimes,inthemidstofaparagraphIwaswriting,Isaidtomyself,"Supposeitshouldbefoundthatallthiswaswrittenbysomeonelongago!"Animpishfearclutchedmyhand,sothatIcouldnotwriteanymorethatday.AndevennowIsometimesfeelthesameuneasinessanddisquietude.MissSullivansoledandhelpedmeineverywayshecouldthinkof;buttheterribleexperienceIhadpassedthroughleftalastingimpressiononmymind,thesignificeofwhichIamonlyjustbeginningtouand.Itwaswiththehopeofrestmyself-fideshepersuadedmetowritefortheYouthspanionabriefatofmylife.Iwasthentwelveyearsold.AsIlookbaystruggletowritethatlittlestory,itseemstomethatImusthavehadapropheticvisionofthegoodthatwouldeoftheuaking,orIshouldsurelyhavefailed.

    Iwrotetimidly,fearfully,butresolutely,urgedonbymyteacher,whokhatifIpersevered,Ishouldfindm