This is to certify that John Milton Edwards, Ottawa, Kansas, has been awarded Honorable Mention for excellence in literary composition. New York, Oct. 30, 1882. FRANK LESLIE. This "honorable mention" from the publisher of a paper, which young Edwards looked forward to from week to week and read and re-read with fascination and delight, must have inoculated him for all time with the fiction virus. Forthwith he began publishing a story paper on a hektograph. Saturday was the day of publication, and the office of publication was the loft of the Edwards' barn. Even at that early day the author understood the advantage of holding "leave-offs"[A] in serial work. He was altogether too successful with his leave-offs, for his readers, gasping for the rest of the story and unable to wait for the next issue of the paper, mobbed the office and forced him, with a threat of dire things, to tell them the rest of the yarn in advance of publication. After that, of course, publication was unnecessary. It was a problem with young Edwards, about this time, to secure enough blank paper for his scribbling needs. Two old ledgers, only partly filled with accounts fell into his hands, and he used them for his callow essays at authorship. He has those ledgers now, and derives considerable amusement in looking through them. They prove that he was far from being a prodigy, and reflect credit on him for whipping his slender talents into shape for at least a commercial success in later life. Consider this: Scene III. J. B.--We made a pretty good haul that time, Jim. B. J.--Yes, I'd like to make a haul like that every night. We must have got about $50,000. J. B.--Now we will go and get our boots blacked, then go and get us a suit of clothes, and then skip to the West Indies. Here a $50,000 robbery had been committed and the thieves were calmly discussing getting their boots blacked and replenishing their wardrobe (one suit of clothes between them seems to have been enough) before taking to flight. Shades of Sherlock, how easily a boy of 12 makes business for the police department! Or consider this gem from Act II. The aforesaid "J. B." and "B. J." have evidently been "pinched" while getting their boots blacked or while buying their suit of clothes: J. B.--We're in the jug at last, Jim, and I'm afraid we'll be sentenced to be shot. B. J.--Don't be discouraged, Bill. Enter Sleek, the detective. Sleek.--We've got you at last, eh? J. B.--You'll never get the money, just the same. Sleek.--We'll shoot you if you don't tell where it is like a dog. Then here's something else which seems to prove that young Edwards occasionally fell into rhyme: Oh, why cut down those forests, Our forests old and grand? And oh, why cheat the Indians Out of all their land? Enclosed by civilization, Surrounded they by towns, Calmly when this life is done They seek their hunting-grounds!