es,
And wounded with arrowy smarts,
That the whole business of his life
Is to pick out the heads of the darts.

--_William Blake_.

Partake of love as a temperate man partakes of wine: do not become
intoxicated.--_A. de Musset_.

LUCK

VICAR--"Nothing to be thankful for! Why, think of poor old Hodge
losing his wife through the flu!"

GILES--"Well, that don't do me no good. I ain't Hodge."

Good luck is the gayest of all gay girls;
Long in one place she will not stay:
Back from your brow she strokes the curls,
Kisses you quick and flies away.

But Madame Bad Luck soberly comes
And stays--no fancy has she for flitting;
Snatches of true-love songs she hums,
And sits by your bed, and brings her knitting.

--_John Hay_.

YOUNG SON--"What is luck, father?"

FATHER--"Luck, my son, is something that enables another fellow to
succeed where we have failed."

MAGAZINES

_History of the Magazine Story_

July 27, 1914--Author finishes it.

Aug. 3, 1914--Rewrites, giving incidental war slant.

May 9, 1915--Rewrites; hero rescues heroine from torpedoed liner.

Apr. 7, 1917--Rewrites; hero enlists; villain, German spy.

Nov. 13, 1918--Rewrites; denouement, allied entrance into Berlin;
heroine, Red Cross nurse.

Nov. 13, 1918--Rewrites; climax, homecoming from overseas.

Aug. 15, 1919--War fiction going stale; goes back to original story,
retaining only German villain.

Jan. 1, 1923--Rewrites; takes out German villain.

Apr. 1, 1934--Author in old people's home; sells original story to
Cozy Hearth; editor features it as "charming romance of life before
the war."

EDITOR (surveying summer landscape)--"Season of mists and mellow
fruitfulness, close bosom friend of the maturing sun!"

FRIEND--"But, I say, that was written about autumn, wasn't it?"

EDITOR--"Yes, yes, I know--but you must remember that we always go to
press four months in advance!"

It was the first of January when a stranger entered the offices of
Pushup's Monthly Magazine.

"Gracious, but it is hot in here!" he remarked to a man in his shirt
sleeves, who was mopping his face with a handkerchief.

"Some," was the terse reply of the man, who was no other than the
famous editor himself.

"What are all those flowers, straw hats and palm-leaf fans scattered
about for?"

"Oh, to give a touch of realism;--we are now preparing our
great Midsummer Fiction Number," was the gr