a mystery.

Despite the editorial impersonality which controls modern newspapers,
the editors still touch life in more points than any other class of
men. And for this reason, if for no other, it is important to know the
limitations under which they work. I leave aside the limitations that
come from within the editor himself; for manifestly ignorance,
prejudice, venality and the like, in the editor are in no wise
different from similar faults in other men.

There are just two temptations, however, peculiar to the editor, that
tend to limit his freedom: first, the fear of the advertisers, and
second, the fear of the subscribers. The advertisers when offended stop
their advertisements; the readers, their subscriptions. The editor who
is afraid to offend both must make a colorless paper indeed. He must
discuss only those things about which every one agrees or nobody cares.
The attitude of such an editor to his readers is, "Gape, sinner, and
swallow," and to his advertisers, as Senator Brandegee said at a recent
Yale Commencement in regard to a proposed Rockefeller bequest, "Bring
on your tainted money." As a rule, the yellows are most in awe of the
mob, while the so-called respectables fear the advertising interests.

Now let me take up in some detail the influences brought to bear upon
us which tend to make us swerve from the straight and narrow path. I
invite your attention first of all to the Press Agent, that
indispensable adjunct of all projects that have something to gain or to
fear from publicity. I have seen the claim made in print, though
doubtless it is a press agent's story, that there are ten thousand
press agents in the city of New York,--that is, men and women employed
to boom people and enterprises in the papers and magazines. You are
familiar with the theatrical press agent, the most harmless, jovial,
inventive, and resourceful of his kind. He is the one who writes the
articles signed by Grand Opera singers which appear in the magazines.
It is he who gets up stories about Miss "Pansy Pinktoes," her
milk-baths, the loss of her diamonds, the rich men who follow her. It
is he who got for me an interview with a Filipino chief at Coney Island
three summers ago, whose unconventional remarks and original philosophy
on America and the inhabitants thereof startled me no less than our
readers.

When the press agent has no news, he manufactures it. The readers of
the New York papers the other day read that a prom