Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1885-05-14

style, Miss Jones. Time enough for
you to come to the cynical-metaphysi-
cal incomprehensible in ten years,
say. You'll be educated UP to the
point of not believing a word Of it by
that time. Kindly leave me your adj
dress and the manuscript shall be re-
turned in the usual way"
"Ne. IL Brown street, Bloomsbury,
w. Co." I 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 bell. Suddenly a small
boy appeared, who conducted me
down dark, breakneck stairs, through
several mouldy, dusty, labyrinthine
passage and out through a booksellers
shop. I felt more thoroughly small,
mean, miserable and disguised than
I had ever felt IN my whole life, as I
emerged from the shady by-street
containing the Office into the light
and hustle of Piccadilly, and, as got
into a bus [ vowed never again to
come to a personal encounter with an
editor. Hitherto I had been content
to drop my little contributions modest
ly into the letter boxes of certain
weekly publications that delight ia
small stories, or I would send them
by post and await the result with
what patience I could. Sometimes
my stories and verses were accepted,
sometimes not, and [ fancied that if
an editor only knew how exceedingly
industrious I was, how devotedly at
tached to my calling, for | had mar
ried the muse of literature
for better, for worse-there was
no choice between doing that
and being a governess-he would have
far better opinion of me and give
me an important permanent position
on his paper Immediately. Then I
had heard so much about the editor
of the Arlington; the girls at the
reading-room of the British Museum
were continually talking to 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 (for
London editors are difficult of access,
an interview The result was pain,
shame, confusion, discontinue, and,
worse of all, failure. Heaven and
earth! how hated that nina as sat
IN the most remote corner of the bus
on my homeward journey; how I
vowed to be revepged and let him
know some day whom he had sneered
and jeered att [ would put him In
novel, IN a comedy, in a burlesque.
| would carricature BIN with pen and
pencil. I would become famous
merely to spite him, and refuse-oh,
the JOY OF that thought II would re-
fuse to write a serial for his hateful
magazine. [ believe I became almost
eloquent in my internal denunciations
of him; and, as an immediate practi-
cal. disdainful defiance of him, [ got
out at Oxford street and went int
Nudes 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 [ detested him; my cheeks burn
ed and tingled as I recalled his low,
mocklng tones and quiet, annihilating
chances. AS for submitting story,
essay, or articles to his tender mercies
never!
A fortnight passed and my manu-
script did not come back. My name
was not Jones, but I really did live
with Mrs. Kent ia Brown street, and
! told her all about it; so 7 should
have received it had it been sent. OF
course he had tossed it in a capacious
waste paper basket that I had noticed
Under his table, and that was the end
of it.
One day, quite a month after my
encounter with the autocrat of the
Arlington, Mrs. Kent announced
visitor, 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 cOR2e back in
quite the usual way" he said, shaking
unasked into the only easy chair
was at my writing table, and meant
to stay there. However, here they
are, all safe, with few marginal
notes. You do really leave beauti-
fully broad, clean margins-they're
quite tempting! By the way. why
haven't you sent me that story2"
IT haven't written it yet, " replied,
7 longed to add land never meant
to-" but somehow 1 could not.
We'll, you must; prose pays best.
What other editors have you been in
tervewing lately?"
'None! I never want to see an
other in all my lfe?'
He leaned back ia his char and
laughed heartily, then with mock
gravity
Tim 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 I
should md you out. Editors do find
out every thing in time. You are
Miss Madeline Meredith, of Garth,
and your brother JEFF aRd I were
chums at Elton and Oxford"
''Ohl" / said, somewhat surprised,
81 didn't know"
''Of course not. How could YOU ?n