less than my postage that year. The next year the paper on which I began paid me a trifle for weekly letters, and specials sent to other papers and magazines, though often returned, many times added to my bank account. One more year of 'prentice work I served, gaining more returns. Then I gave up teaching and devoted myself to writing, though it should be "sink or swim."

In that year there were times when the swimmer felt the waves go over her head; but if she sank, she rose again. Living without any other resource than special articles for papers is uncertain, and not to be advised for any one who loves ease better than writing. During this year I did reporting on the city dailies, wrote every kind of article and copy that could be used on a paper. I practiced writing rhymes, which I did not send to be printed. Versewriting is a sort of verbal gymnastics, and I took it merely for that. I studied every day, and always shall study all I can. Occasionally an editor was kind enough to send a letter with my unwelcome brain-child telling me where it needed treatment, and I never failed to write a note of thanks for the suggestion, and the thanks were sincere. When I found it impossible to place a manuscript, I studied it to see what it lacked, and, truth to tell, I usually found the defect.

That was a hard year, but it was worth much

to me. At its close I was given a position as literary editor on a weekly. I have held it since, meantime trying in every way to broaden my outlook on life, to take a strong mental grasp of what comes to me, to make myself worthy of better places in the future. I know now that I have placed my foot upon the ladder I mean to climb, and I shall get as near the top as my skill in climbing will permit. If I stay at the foot, I shall know that I stay because I am not fit for any other place, and I shall not believe I have been pulled back by the envy of others. I have sent articles to papers of national reputation, and they have been accepted. I have sent others, seemingly as good, to the same papers, and they have been returned. Personal favor had nothing to do with either acceptance or rejection. I have always found editors kind; and since I know of the trials of some of them, I wonder that they show even courtesy. I do not believe that anything insures the rejection of a manuscript but its unsuitableness or its worthlessness, and I draw my conclusion from my own experience.

Even the drudgery of my work is pleasant to me. I would write if it paid me little. As a fact, it rewards me liberally, as it will any one whose service is whole-hearted, and who understands that writing is work — not an easy way of earning a living. Dora M. Morrell. BOSTON, Mass.

Reference in THE WRIRER to the padding of cablegrams recalls the time, years ago, when I acted as amanuensis to a New York editor who padded cables for the old National Associated Press. This man had a rare knowledge of affairs in England and on the continent, having served in responsible positions for the London Times. From a twenty-word London cable this well-informed editor would dictate to me a London despatch of from a thousand to

fifteen hundred words, if the news event warranted it. This despatch was wired all over this country. In the event of a big horse or boat race, Crickmore, of the New York World, would be called in. If the despatch read, "Ox. ford won," for instance, “Crick," as we called him, would reel off two solid columns of copy as fast as he could pen it, giving details, etc., in very proper form. To be a good padder, howAn ever, a man must be an artist in his way.

instance of a bungling hand at padding cablegrams is noticed in a despatch published June 27, giving details of the sinking of H. M. S Victoria in collision with the Camperdown. It speaks of struggling sailors being cut to pieces by the revolving screw of the sinking ship, as the victims were drawn beneath the waves by the suction. This screw is painted as a regular revolving chopping knife. Then, after the ship and crew are totally submerged, a boiler is heard to burst and screams are heard. It is

Premising that the literary aspirant has already acquired the best general education possible,- for no professional worker can ever know enough, and that he is daily adding to his stock by every means in his power, what special training does he yet need to enable him to attain success in his chosen work? Like the manual worker, he must become thoroughly acquainted with the implements and materials with which he has to deal, and then become skilful in their use by long and conscientious practice. The literary worker has to do with thoughts and language. He must have thoughts first, clear and well defined, and then must study to express those thoughts in language so perfect and transparent that none of their beauty or significance shall be hidden or distorted.

The study of language, then, and preeminently the study of the English language, must be the special work of the writer in English. I do not mean the mere grammatical and rhetorical study which ought to have been mastered with other elementary branches, but rather that deeper study which makes one thoroughly familiar with the qualities of words, their habits, and capabilities. He who is willing to put forth patient effort for improvement must trace the stream of English back to its sources, and become familiar, not only with the main current of Anglo-Saxon, but also with the tributaries,

large and small, which have, from time to time, added to its volume. Going back a little way, there will be found a small stream of Greek origin flowing especially into scientific literature and in this day a host of scientific terms are coming into the language of common life. Then we find a very large tributary of Latin flowing in through two inlets - one portion coming in directly by way of the learned discussions of law and ecclesiasticism, and the other by a more roundabout way, through the French after the Norman conquest, many words even retaining the French spelling to this day. Latin and French, then, and Greek, in a less degree, are all very important languages to study, with a special view to their philological relation to our mother tongue.

But English is, primarily, a Teutonic language, having its source in a mixture of old German dialects (Anglo-Saxon), with a slight sprinkling of Celtic and Scandinavian words. A study, therefore, of modern German, supplemented by a later study of old German, is very helpful in acquiring an understanding of old English, which is as “dead” a language as Latin or Greek has ever been. The study of Scandinavian, as a related tongue, especially in its older forms, is also useful. With this preparation, the study of middle and old English is an easy and profitable undertaking, which leads

one directly back to the fountain head of word meanings and applications.

It will assist our understanding of the subject, if we remember that very many of our words, adjectives especially, originally came into the language as metaphors. If it were possible for us (and it is) to know the original meaning of all our ordinary adjectives, not to mention other classes of words, together with the modifications time has made, should we not use them with much more precision, force, and elegance? And if we could use all words with propriety, how much incongruity we should eliminate from our writing; how much strength and beauty we might add to it.

But the mere study of words, important as it is, is not all. The musician may study the theory of harmony and the qualities of tones; but in order to execute well, he must practice putting the notes together so as to express a meaning, must accustom the fingers to strike the keys with precision, skill, and taste, so as to produce connected music. Words are the notes of the writer. Understanding their meaning and qualities, he must practice putting them to

gether until he is able to express his thought in the most forceful and beautiful manner. Practice alone will give ease of expression. The study of the languages suggested is a great aid in this direction. The rapid translation of a foreign tongue into good English is very conducive to skill in word-handling.

English, being derived, as it is, from many sources, is peculiarly rich in its scope and in the choice of words it offers. There are often numerous synonyms for expressing delicate shadings of thought, and to his skill in the use of these does the successful writer owe much of the elegance and artistic excellence of his finished work. His readers may not realize it, but they are under the spell. He knows it, and that is enough. While being himself a critical reader of classical English authors, he is no imitator. Having at hand all the resources which he has been able to compass, he aims to develop his own peculiar style and enrich it with the skill he has acquired by long study and exercise.

MINNEAPOLIS, Minn.

Viola Fuller Miner.

In the chase for the check-remitting editor I have had several amusing, though oftentimes discouraging, experiences, but I believe I have at last solved the problem of disposing of manuscripts, and, thinking, that my plan might be of benefit to the readers of THE WRITER, I here submit it.

First, when I have written something that I know is good enough to bring a check, I take a large blank-book, set apart for the purpose, and fill out a page with the names of magazines and papers to which I think the article is adapted. I write the title above the list, and then check off each periodical to which the article is sent, as it goes out, putting the date opposite as a help in tracing the manuscript if it is lost.

Sometimes my article is "returned with

thanks" from a half dozen publications, but persistence usually wins the day, and at last there comes a welcome letter from a publisher with the hard-earned check enclosed. Perseverance and only ordinary talent will win the day.

If a manuscript becomes crumpled by much using, a hot iron will smooth out the creased pages. As a remedy in case it may get soiled, I keep on hand a supply of paper of the size on which the manuscript was written, and supply fresh pages here and there.

When my manuscript is sold I mark in my blank-book opposite the name of the publication which accepted it the date and the price received, thus keeping a complete and businesslike record of every article. My blank-book is,

furthermore, an inspiration every time I open it, for I have written on its first page this resolve: "I hereby resolve to write at least one paying article a week, and to persevere in getting it accepted by publishers."

I have always been better paid by requesting the publisher to make payment at his regular rates, which are usually fair, though,, now and then, the remuneration is not what I think it should be. In such cases I let that publisher

alone in future, and mark him in my blankbook on a "black list."

When I began writing it was in a haphazard way, and, as far as pay was concerned, it seemed "love's labor lost." Now, by adopting this business-like method, and never allowing an article to rest, I am reaping a modest share of "golden" grains from the well-tilled literary field. Amy M. Bradshaw.

LEBANON, MO.

As is well known, the Académie Française periodically undertakes the task of reforming the orthography, and also the grammar, of the French language. It has lately ended one of its sessions, and as a result some very important changes, about 1,200 in number, are announced. The chief movers in the reform agreed upon were Émile Ollivier and M. Gréard, vice-rector of the Académie de Paris, who were strongly opposed by the philanthropic Duc d'Aumale. Much comment on the changes is to be observed in the French press, which admits that they are revolutionary, but mainly of a beneficial character.

First among the propositions of MM. Gréard and Ollivier comes the suppression of the hyphen in the numerous compound words peculiar to the French language. These are, however, not by any means of the nature of the compounds in English. The Germans, it may be remarked, also avoid compounding as much as possible, preferring to form one word wherever practicable. The Germans also have been indulging in orthographical reform, and knowledge of their movement served as an incentive to the learned Frenchmen.

The uniform formation of the plural number is the second reform proposed. Such a plural as matériaux will in future appear as matériels; volx will be vois, in conformity with the ending in the word lois; and there will be an end of the cases in which the word des is used before

a noun in order to denote the plural, as in des alinéas. Je veus is to take the place of je veux. There are a number of other changes, principally of a phonetic nature, blasfème taking the place of blasphème, and filosofie that of philosophie, ph giving way to f wherever used.

These changes will prove of much interest to writers and others who have to deal with letterpress, for there is comparatively little work done nowadays in which French does not appear, despite the oft-repeated remark that there is sufficient elasticity in English to enable writers to express themselves without having recourse to a foreign language. It is to be hoped that these changes will become better known by writers of English than those in the form of such words as collège (formerly collége), manège (manége), dénoûment (dénouement), and Liège ( Liége), which were altered by the academy some time ago. These alterations do not appear to have come to the knowledge of many well-informed writers. A case came within the writer's knowledge where an esteered Harvard professor objected to the word collège in place of college, being evidently ignorant of the change ordered by the academicians. Even now Liége continually appears in lieu of Liège.

The alterations are to go into force immediately. Grammarians, dictionary compilers, and printers throughout the country will be busy making corrections, and, as a Frenchman

resident in New York remarked, the French will be relearning their language. The action of the immortels was in a measure forced upon them by public opinion, numerous petitions in favor of reform being sent in, among them being

an important one from the Institut de France. A pamphlet containing the alterations will be issued shortly by the academy, which will not wait until the revision of its dictionary. NEW YORK, N. Y. E. J. Jay.

What is it? Has it legal bounds? If not, is there a moral limitation to the power an editor possesses over manuscript purchased by him? Is there any unwritten code by which the profession is governed, or is a writer, of necessity, fully at the mercy of the man with the blue pencil, with no redress but impotent rage?

These, and similar questions, have greatly vexed the souls of a little circle of young writers, trying, with conscientious might, to gain a slight foothold on that famed ladder leading to the dreamed-of literary heights.

"It's enough to drive one distracted," C. exclaimed, flinging down the copy of one of Boston's leading publications for young people, famous the country through, in which a wellconceived story, over her own signature, occupied a position of honor. "I never will send another sketch to that dreadful paper!"

"Swallow your pride, my dear," soothed the more practical K. "You can afford to, with the value of that twenty-five-dollar check on your bank account. Have they been editing?"

"Verily, with a pitchfork! And I've been looking forward so eagerly to seeing that favorite of mine in good type, in such enviable position. Ah, think of the worth of the advertisement! And now, after all my hard labor, my trimming, and smoothing, and polishing into what I know was a piece of good literary work, to find that crude, rough production published, with my name appended! And to be judged thereby-"

"You know all matter is accepted subject to such editorial revision as the requirements of the paper,' etc., etc., etc.!"

"What exigency can require a girl's name to be changed from Ruth to Jane? Ruth harmonized so delightfully with that bright, modest girl I drew, while Jane calls for another type of character than she possessed. And here is my merry Kitty transformed to stately Eleanor. Why? Because nicknames and diminutives aren't good form,' nowadays, and dignified appellatives are to be preferred? As well tell an artist not to paint a tumbled-down fence as it is, but rather to mix his colors for an upright, freshly-whitewashed one, because that is what a fence ought to be! Shade of Howells! Are they moralists, rather than realists, on that editorial staff? Is a writer's fancy too sensitive by far, that such strained changes jar upon it?

"What's the matter with my quotation,

'A creature not too bright or good
For human nature's daily food'?

It is printed,

'A creature not too good,' etc. Is that editor really editing Wordsworth?

"Is there anything sensational in this figure of speech, 'Ruth's eyes darted quick thanks,' that it should appear as, 'Jane's eyes expressed her thanks'?"

"That editor," M. solemnly avowed, "is tied to his Art's first principles, truth and simplicity of expression, and-"

"Ye commonplace!" added K. "A fact's a fact to him. State it as such, and use no 'figgers '!"