“It is very peculiar,” she continued, “how, in writing a story, the characters govern me, not I the characters. I may have the outline and ending of a book in my mind, but the characters take everything into their hands, and walk independently through the pages. I have always found it best to obey. The ending of ‘Anglomaniacs,’ which caused so much adverse criticism, was not as I had planned. I was helpless under the caprices of the characters. At first, I was displeased at the ending; but now, looking back upon it, I am well satisfied.” “Then the characters to you become real, and you are entirely under their spell, merely chronicling what to you appears real?” IN LOVE WITH HER WORK. “Yes, if I did not believe in them, I would be unable to write; for the time being, I am living and observing a dozen lives. There is much satisfaction in doing so correctly. I am in love with my work, and am a hard worker.” For the past few months, Mrs. Harrison has been idle, by the advice of her physicians, and has spent the season abroad, traveling over the continent. “But all the time, I am turning little romances over in my mind, and when I can no longer keep my pen from paper, I suppose I shall sit down and write,” she said. “Last winter, I was under a pretty heavy strain, and my overworked condition compelled me to rest for a while.” Many amusing little instances touching upon her work have come to her attention. “One morning,” said Mrs. Harrison, “after my husband had successfully defended a client, the man grasped his hand very warmly, and, to my husband’s amazement, said, ‘Well, Mr. Harrison, I want to tell you what we think of your wife. She’s the finest writer in the English language, that’s what my daughter says. She says there are no books like hers.’ “‘Which one does she like most?’ asked my husband, immensely pleased. “‘Well,’ he replied, ‘I can’t just answer that, but I think it’s “Your Eyre.”’ “Once I received a rather startling letter from a western ranchman. It said, ‘Your book has been going the rounds, but it always comes back, and I have threatened to put a bullet in the hide of the man who does not return it.’ I was greatly pleased with that letter. “The most gratifying letter I ever received was from a man in a prison. He begged to be supplied with all I had written. “Perhaps he was a man who had been in society, and there is a little story connected with his imprisonment.” SHE IS A GENTLE, FORCEFUL WOMAN. Mrs. Harrison has made many close friends through her books. Once she was with a party of friends in a Madrid gallery. Her name was mentioned, and a Spanish lady came forward, and introduced herself, at the same time expressing her admiration for her. “She is now one of my dearest friends,” concluded Mrs. Harrison.