Evening capital. (Annapolis, Md.) 1884-1910, 1884-07-26

- How do you know 40
Internal evidence and he touched
my manuscript. This betrays severe
course. You must alter your style, Miss
Jones. Time enough for you to come 10
the cynical Observation-Disclosures
prehensible in ten years, say. 1oull be
educated up TO the point of not believing
a word OF it by that time. Kindly leave
me your address, and the manuscript
shall be returned in the usual way.
No. II Brown street, Bloomsbury,
w. c. | replied. my face crimson.
''care of Mrs. Kent"
He wrote it down, and then stood up
to indicate that the interview was over,
bowed formally, and then touched a
little bell Suddenly a small boy APP
peared. who conducted me down dark
breakneck stairs, through several moldy,
dusty labyrinthine passages and out
through booksellers shop. felt more
thoroughly small, mean, miserable and
disguised than | had ever felt In my
whole life as | emerged from the shady
by-street, containing the office, into the
light and hustle of Piccadilly, and. as
got into bus, | vowed never again TO
come to a personal encounter with an
editor Hitherto | had been content TO
drop my little contribution modestly into
the letter boxes of certain weekly pub
locations that delight in small stories, or
| would send them by post and await the
result with what patience | could. Some
times my stories and verses were accep-
ted. sometimes not, and | fancied that,
if an editor only knew how exceedingly
industrious / was, how very much IN
earnest. how devotedly attached to my
calling-for had married the Muse of
Literature for better, for worse-tEere
was no choice between doing that and
being a governess-he would have u
far better opinion of me, and give me
an important permanent position on
his paper Immediately. Then had heard
so much about the editor of the arlington,
all the girls at the reading-room of the
British museum were continually talking
of him. and in an evil hour, armed with
my most elaborate poetical production, /
made my way to the office and requested,
and, strange to say, was granted foI Lon
don editors are difficult of access an in
terview. The result was pain, shame,
confusion, discontinue, and worst of all,
failure. Heaven and earth, how | hated
that man as | sat III the most remote cor
ner of the bus on my homeward journey
how vowed to be revenged and let
him know some day whom he sneered and
jeered at | would put him in novel,
in a comedy, in burlesque. | would
carricature him with pen and pencil, |
would become famous merely to spite
him. and refuse-oh the JOY of that
thought!-I would refuse to write Sc
rial for his hateful magazine. believe
| became almost eloquent in my internal
denunciations of him; and, as an imme-
diate practical, disdainful defiance of him,
| got out at Oxford street and went into
Mudie's for another volume of Swim
burne.
In one way or another the editor OF
the arlington was a good deal in my
thoughts during the next week, and the
more | considered his conduct the more
l detested him, my cheeks burned and
my ears tingled as / recalled his low,
knocking tones, and quiet, annihilatiHg
glances. As for submitting story, essay
or article to his tender mercies-never.
A fortnight passed, and my manu-
script did not come back. My name was
not Jones; but really did live with Mrs.
Kent. in Brown street; and | told her all
about 1t so should have received irhad
it been sent. OF course he had tossed it
in a capacious waste paper basket that |
had noticed under his table, and that was
the end of it.
One day, quite month after my en-
counter with the autocrat of the Artiag-
ton, Mrs. Kent announced visitor. a
gentleman, to see me; and in a moment
there entered the editor, more cool, calm,
self possessed and smiling than ever.
1.-THE verses have not come back in
quite the usual way" he said, sinking
unasked into the only easy-chair-I
was at my writing table, and meant to
stay there. However, here they are,
all safe, with few marginal notes. You
do really leave beautifully broad, clean
margins they're quite tempting BY the
way, why haven't you sent me that
storv?"
Haven't written it yet, !" replied
/ longed to add, land | never mean to-"
but somehow l could not.
Well, you must; prose pays best.
What other editors have you been inter-
viewing latelyg'
None never want to see another
in all my life!n
He leaned back in his chair and
laughed heartily; then, with mock grav-
ity-
'I'm glad to hear that, for you're
really quite-dangerous. By the way,
why did you say your name was Jones
You might have known / should find you
out Editors do find out everything in
time. You are Miss Madeline Meredith.