Year: 1873

The humorist of the Detroit Free Press
observes: When young man, wearing a very
exultant cOuntenance, walks in the editorial
rooms with bundle of manuscript under his
arm, all the staff know what is coming He
has been writing an ode to Spring, or a poem
on the fast disappearing Indian race, or five
hundred verses on the power of love. 1t is
really wonderful how sanguine he is. He has
selected this particular paper as a great favor
to the paper, and he is certain that the
publishers won't think of Offering him less
than dollar a verse, and that after they have
handed him the money they will pat him on
the back and say, Go on young man,
there is a wealth of laurels for you in the
future" He walks around the room a few
times to collect himself, and then goes to the
nearest man. He is referred to "tbe man in
the other ROOM" and the man in the other
room heaves a sigh as he sees him enter.
Here few verses on Spring time which l
dashed off the other day, says the young man
as he deposits the roll on the table; "you can
look them over, and will call for the money
Saturday" He goes out and the recipient of
| the roll unrolls 1t, feels his hair rise up as he
sees that some lines have ten feet" others


six, and that pile-driyer could not pound the


metre into shape. He puts it away, and


begiRs to dread Saturday. Saturday comes,


and with it the young man, who expects a


check and compliment. He sits down, and


there is a long pause. The editor would rather


tackle a Bogardus kicker than say what he


must say, but he finally gets around to it.


Very ood-Seasonable-wel written-but,


sh we haven't room for it just at present;


you'd better send it to the New FORK Poet"
That young man gets up with an awful look of


contempt and revenge on his face, seizes the


roll, and goes out feeling that he shall be an


enemy Of the paper, the editors, reporters
cOmpOsltors and APPRENTICES, forever after


This is only an Illustrative case. There is the


woman who has written nineteen verses on her


dead baby the old maid who has hashed up q


ballad and wants to be brought out as the


author the young man in love who has writ


ten a poem on his Hannah and FIVE or six
others. Each one must be refused in such a


manner as not to wound his feelings, and


yet his feelings will be wounded. If


he had Mt a cent in the world, and was in need


OF bread, he would mt feel half so bad to be


refused cash loan as he would to be told that


his poetry was Mt first class, and that he'd


better turn his attention TO trade. The poets
are not all. There is the man with the Essay
on Sober Second Thought" the man with the
two columns on The Degeneration Of American
Politics" and the scores Of men with essays on
this and that, which no one but the writer
would read They must be met, repulsed and
got rid of and though the editor is as tender
as lover, the chances are that within three
{ days he will receive letter reading something
like this:


, ''DeGr Sir Owing to the fact that my
{ article on the 'Rejuvenation of Mummies' did
J not appear in your issue of Wednesday, you
, can stop my paper. | shall subscribe to the
, Ark, which is live, go-ahead daily, fully up
| 70 the times. Yours, CATO"