XXXVI

I think the man exaggerated some
His increased Circulation,--but, I vum!
If I could get Two Thousand for one Tale,
I'd write him Something that would simply Hum!

XXXVII

For I remember, shopping by the way,
I saw a Novel writ by Bertha Clay;
And there was scrawled across its Title-Page,
"This is the Stuff that Sells--so People say!"

XXXVIII

Listen--a moment listen!--Of the same
Wood-pulp on which is printed Hewlett's Name,
The "Duchess" Books are made--in fifty years
They both will rot asunder--who's to Blame?"

XXXIX

And not a Book that from our Shelves we throw
To the Salvation Army, but shall go
To vitiate the Taste of some poor Soul
Who can get nothing else to read--go Slow!

XL

As then the Poet for his morning Sup
Fills with a Metaphor his mental Cup,
Do you devoutly read your Manuscripts
That Someone may, before you burn them up!

XLI

Perplex'd no more with editorial "Nay"
To-morrow's Reputation cast away,
And lose your College Education in
The flippant, foolish Fiction of To-day.

XLII

And if the Bosh you write, the Trash you read,
End in the Garbage Barrel--take no Heed;
Think that you are no worse than other Scribes,
Who scribble Stuff to meet the Public Need.

XLIII

So, when WHO'S-WHO records your silly Name,
You'll think that you have found the Road to Fame;
And though ten thousand other Names are there,
You'll fancy you're a Genius, just the Same!

XLIV

Why, if an Author can fling Art aside,
And in a Book of Balderdash take Pride,
Wer't not a Shame--wer't not a Shame for him
A Conscientious Novel to have tried?

XLV

Writing's a Trade where Newspapers pay best;
LeGallienne this Verity confess'd;
So join the Union, like the rest of us--
Who strikes for Art is looked at as a Jest.

XLVI

And fear not, if the Editor refuse
Your work, he has no more from which to choose;
The Literary Microbe shall bring forth
Millions of Manuscripts too bad to use.

XLVII

When Fitch's Comedies have all gone past,
Oh, the long Time Pinero's plays shall last,
Which of Belasco's little Triumphs heed
As Frohman's Self should heed a Bowery Cast!

XLVIII

A Moment's Halt--Pray see this charming, chaste
Ladies' Home Journal--"On the New Shirt Waist"--
"Advice to Girls," and so forth--here is reach'd
The Nothing women yearn for, undebased!

XLIX

Would you a hurried Lunch Hour wish to spend
About THE SECRET