nd I
really think it would be difficult to find a citizen of the republic who
had not been a contributor to some publication at some time, or had not
written a book. The output of books is extraordinary, and covers every
field; but the class is not in all cases such as one might expect. The
people are omnivorous readers, and "stories," "novels," are ground out
by the ton; but I doubt if a book has been produced since the time of
Hawthorne that will really live as a great classic.

The American authors are mainly collected in New York, where the great
publishing houses are located, and are a fine representative class of
men and women, of whom I have met a number, such as Howells, the author
and editor, and Mark Twain, the latter the most brilliant litterateur in
the United States. This will be discovered when he dies and is safe
beyond receiving all possible benefits from such recognition. Many men
in America make reputations as humorists, and find it impossible to
divest their more serious writings from this "taint," if so it may be
called. They are not taken seriously when they seriously desire it; a
fact I fully appreciate, as I am taken as a joke, my "pigtail," my
"shoes," my "clothes," my way of speaking, all being objects of joking.

The literary men have several clubs in New York, where they can be
found, and many have marked peculiarities, which are interesting to a
foreigner. Several artists affect a peculiar style of dress to advertise
their wares. One, it is said, lived in a tree at Washington. It is not
so much with the authors as with the methods of making books that I
think you will be interested. I met a rising young author at a dinner in
Washington who confided to me that the "book business" was really ruined
in America by reason of the mad craze of nearly all Americans to become
writers. He said that he as an editor had been offered money to publish
a novel by a society woman who desired to pose as an authoress. This
author said that there were in America a dozen or more of the finest and
most honorable publishing houses in the world, but there were many more
in the various cities which virtually preyed upon this "literary
disease" of the people. No country in the world, said my acquaintance,
produces so many books every year as America; so many, in fact, that the
shops groan with them and the forests of America threaten to give out,
and the supply virtually clogs and ruins the market. So crazy are the