CHAPTER III
"A ROMANCE OF TWO WORLDS"
In ninety-nine cases out of a hundred an author's
first long manuscript is a poor and immature thing,
which, owing to its inflammatory nature, were
best devoted to fire-lighting purposes. But the
aspiring scribbler, not being—from this point of
view, at any rate—a utilitarian in his views, would
as lief lose his right hand as behold his precious
pages being put to the base wooing of wood and
coals. Instead, he spends several pounds on
having it typewritten, and then sends it forth upon
its travels round the publishing houses. It comes
back to him with exasperating regularity, until
the author, at last realizing that his book does not
appeal to publishers' readers quite as vividly as it
does to its creator, either (if he be wise) consigns
it to the dust-bin, or (if he be unwise) pays one
of the shark publishing firms to bring it out. Did
he know that the wily fellows to whom he entrusts
his work simply print enough copies for review
purposes and a few more to put on their shelves,
charging him the while for a whole edition, he
