here was nothing better for me
to do than to hand him the letter. His face lighted with a smile as he
read it. The effect was so good that I followed it with Mr. Pound's.
The effect of Mr. Pound's was so good that I was confident that I
should soon be a journalist in fact, for Mr. Hanks read it over twice.

"My boy," he began, regarding me through his spectacles benignly. At
that familiar address my heart leaped. "Let me give you some advice."
My heart fell. "Take those letters and lock them up to read when you
are ten years older. Then start out and go from office to office until
you get a place. Don't be discouraged. Some day you'll break in
somewhere."

"But I want to work on _The Record_," I cried. "It's politics agree
with mine--it is Republican. It is a respectable paper. It----"

Mr. Hanks was leaning over his desk. "Pile," he said, addressing the
fat man who sat across from him, "that was a good beat we had on the
Worthing divorce--I see all the evenings are after it hard. We must
have a second-day story."

"I am ready," I said a little louder, "to begin with any kind of work."

Mr. Hanks looked up as though surprised that I was still there.
"You've come at a bad time," he said brusquely. "Summer--we are
letting men go every day. But don't get discouraged. I worked four
months for my first job, and I didn't come from McGraw either. Keep
going the rounds."

Then he seemed to forget my existence and resumed his game of checkers.

His dismissal was a terrible blow, but I had read enough of great men
to know that they had to fight for their opportunities, and I was
determined not to be a weakling and go down in the first skirmish. For
a moment I stood bewildered at the entrance of _The Record_ building,
stunned by the unexpected outcome of my visit there. I was indignant
at Boller for having raised my hopes so high. I was indignant at Mr.
Carmody for not measuring up to Boller's estimate. I was indignant at
Mr. Hanks for not making a searching inquiry into my attainments, for
his ignorance of McGraw and his amusement over my precious letters. I
vowed that some day Mr. Hanks should be put under my magnifying-glass,
to shrivel beneath my burning gaze.

To break in somewhere proved a long task. From Miss Minion's
boarding-house on Seventeenth Street, where I established myself, I
went forth daily to the siege of Park Row. I was shot up to heaven to
editorial rooms beneath gilded domes,