--their ignorance, which is nothing more
nor less than the henidical mental process described by Weininger. They
think they think, and such thinkless creatures are the arbiters of the
lives of the few who really think."

He paused, overcome by the consciousness that he had been talking over
Ruth's head.

"I'm sure I don't know who this Weininger is," she retorted. "And you
are so dreadfully general that I fail to follow you. What I was speaking
of was the qualification of editors--"

"And I'll tell you," he interrupted. "The chief qualification of ninety-
nine per cent of all editors is failure. They have failed as writers.
Don't think they prefer the drudgery of the desk and the slavery to their
circulation and to the business manager to the joy of writing. They have
tried to write, and they have failed. And right there is the cursed
paradox of it. Every portal to success in literature is guarded by those
watch-dogs, the failures in literature. The editors, sub-editors,
associate editors, most of them, and the manuscript-readers for the
magazines and book-publishers, most of them, nearly all of them, are men
who wanted to write and who have failed. And yet they, of all creatures
under the sun the most unfit, are the very creatures who decide what
shall and what shall not find its way into print--they, who have proved
themselves not original, who have demonstrated that they lack the divine
fire, sit in judgment upon originality and genius. And after them come
the reviewers, just so many more failures. Don't tell me that they have
not dreamed the dream and attempted to write poetry or fiction; for they
have, and they have failed. Why, the average review is more nauseating
than cod-liver oil. But you know my opinion on the reviewers and the
alleged critics. There are great critics, but they are as rare as
comets. If I fail as a writer, I shall have proved for the career of
editorship. There's bread and butter and jam, at any rate."

Ruth's mind was quick, and her disapproval of her lover's views was
buttressed by the contradiction she found in his contention.

"But, Martin, if that be so, if all the doors are closed as you have
shown so conclusively, how is it possible that any of the great writers
ever arrived?"

"They arrived by achieving the impossible," he answered. "They did such
blazing, glorious work as to burn to ashes those that opposed them. They
arrived by course of miracle, by winning