The daily morning journal and courier., 1902-07-03
AN AUTHOR UNDECEIYED.
JFHAT HE THOUGHT 4 PCB-
 LISTING
Ofcs Would Be and What He
 Found It.

rOuhu kts Like all embryo authors, he was hope ful, yet Respondent, of ultimate sue cess. He had written several short stories, which he had sent, each ill it's turn, to various publishing houses. They only served to prove medium through which he became acquainted with the courteous yet final language with which literary aspirations are simultaneously dampened and encouraged. He found that some publishers used printed blanks in their communications to Hedging writers, while others preferred the apparently more personal form or pen and ink.
 When he had finished his most pre- tentious effort-a novel-he naturally decided that the proper course for him to pursue was to offer it to publisher in person. All authors did that until attained the position which afforded them the opportunity of telling the sup pliant publisher that they were going to take a vacation, and could not write the sS,000 serial just then. He thought the fact that he was well dressed and wore an air of prosperity might obtain for him the favor which was seldom granted to impecunious bearers Of manuscripts who flew signals Of dis tress in the quality of their apparel. He had never penetrated to the heart of a publishing house, though he had often gazed at the exterior with the longing natural to an outsider, but ne had formed ideas of what the places where authors were made and unmade would look like.
 Leaving the elevator, he would enter 8 plainly but richly furnished reception room, the walls of which would be adorned with the likenesses of authors whose successful publications had made their names household words. There would be a faint tinge of literary at mosphere in this room, and the authors would look down on him in mingled en- couragement and commiseration. There would be a combined air of invitation and repression about the chairs. A sign. bearing the legend Visitors must state their business to the boy" would be displayed conspicuously over wick ct in the panelling. He would push the button beside it, and boy who had hitherto been invisible would stick his head through the opening, as if it were a newspaper office or a secret society Iodgeroom, and ask his business. The manner in which the boy would put this question would indicate that he knew exactly what that business was. and that he inquired simply because 1t was mere formality through which he was bound to go. The author would exhibit a firm assurance, and reply that he wished to see the editor who accepted manuscripts. The boy would ask for card, and, having received it from the author. would bear it away Perhaps he would return and say, "Step this way, please" at the same time opening the door. If he said the editor was busy, the author would go away sor- rowfully.
 But if he opened the door as the au- tnur entered the room the literary at- rnosphere would become more percepti- ble Several smaller rooms would be partitioned off from the larger one, and into one of these the boy would point the way. The author, whose assurance wenid have dwindledy to obvious trepidation, would see his card held in a tentative manner in the hand of gray headed man, who would be distinctly literary There would not be any par ticular feature either in his dress or appearance to lead to this conclusion. One would simply look at him and know that he was publisher. The author would say that he had written novel which he would like to have published and extend his hand, holding the manu- script. The elderly man would say, We will look it over" in tone of one who wished to get rid of bore. The author would begin halting to explain what his novel was about. The publish CT would repeat his words without changing his tone, wfereupon the au- thor would retire. The boy would look at him as if he knew all about it. Then he would go away and waver between hope an dfear until letter from the publisher on one of the we'll known printed forms would set his mind at rest. <
 It was with such thoughts as these in mind. that the author entered the swinging doors leading to the main of- hce of one of the most widely known publishing houses in this city. He saw long flight of stairs ahead of him, and was glad of the reprieve their length granted him. When he reached the top he saw large room in which there were host of persons, seated at desks or moving about. There was no wicket, no boy. He stood for a moment in the middle of the floor and gazed about him. No one paid any attention to him. He might not have been there. On one side of the room was space n- closed by latticed ironwork. Inside were high desks and clerks writing. It might have been a bank or the book keeping department of a wholesale gro- eery house. Over on the other side a low balustrade inclosed a space inhab- tied by alternative fiat and rolltop desks, at which men were seated. Each man had bell before him. These bells rang necessarily, and were answered by regiment of boys. The atmosphere had no pronounced literary flavor. There was nothing to be seen that presaged the publication of books or books or the presence of manuscripts. Several young women were manipulat- ing typewriters with rapidity. The bells on the machines tinkled The piece of furniture.
 At one end of the long room there was another balustrade and more desks,