istmas.' He liked that pretty well, but
thought it ought to have a little more atmosphere, so I put in at the
beginning a stanza with a Star in the East in it, and another at the end
with Christmas day as a star in the heart of humanity--sort of a
reflection like--"

"That was good--tiptop!"

"Yes; he took it then. He said, if he didn't, I'd keep on adding to it
and break up the magazine. Now, Perny, I'll tell you, I've got a poem
that runs right straight through the year. Every stanza is complete in
itself, and I can give you any kind of a cut you want. You can have it
all as it is, or I'll take out the bones and trim it up for you, or you
can have slices out of it here and there at so much a slice."

Perner took the manuscript and ran his eye over it casually.

"That's a good thing on September," he said. "The figure of the
goldenrod like a plumed warder closing the gates of summer is striking.
We don't publish till November, though."

"That's all right! What's the matter with making it chrysanthemum--a
royal goddess at the gates of fall?"

"Why, yes; I suppose that will do." Perner handed back the sheet, and
Capers immediately set about recasting his stanzas. Perner had been too
long in literature himself to be shocked by this phase of it. He was
only amused. Furthermore, he was fond of Capers, as was every editor in
town. They knew him to be far more conscientious in his work than most
of those who affected the poetic manner and dress. These and others were
less entertaining. Some of them Perner would rather not have seen.

There was the faded, middle-aged woman whose poor, impossible manuscript
was offered to him with hands made heavy by toil. There was the pale,
eager girl who trembled before him until Perner himself was so disturbed
that words meant to be kindly and encouraging became only rude and
meaningless. There was the handsomely dressed woman of fashion, who,
with the air of a benefactor, laid before him stories of bad execution
and worse morals--stories to which was attached neither the author's
signature nor stamps for their return. Then there was the sharp-featured
woman with spectacles, who regarded him severely and proceeded to read
her poem aloud. Once this contributor brought a song, and insisted on
singing it to him, much to the enjoyment of Van Dorn and Livingstone in
the next room.

There were men who tried him, too: men who brought bad pictures and a
recommendation from their instructor