Howard wandered through the Central Park for two hours, struggling for the “new point of view” of the crowds he saw there--these monotonous millions, he thought, lazily drinking at a vast trough of country air in the heart of the city. He planned an article carefully as he dined alone at the Casino. He went down to the office early and wrote diligently--about two thousand words. When he had finished, the Night City Editor told him that he might go as there would be nothing more that night. He was in the street at seven the next morning. As he walked along with a News-Record, bought at the first news-stand, he searched every page: first, the larger “heads”--such a long story would call for a “big head;” then the smaller “heads”--they may have been crowded and have had to cut it down; then the single-line “heads”--surely they found a “stickful” or so worth printing. At last he found it. A dozen items in the smallest type, agate, were grouped under the general heading “City Jottings” at the end of an inside column of an inside page. The first of these City Jottings was two lines in length: “The millions were in the Central Park yesterday, lazily drinking at that vast trough of country air in the heart of the city.” As he entered the office Howard looked appealingly and apologetically at the boy on guard at the railing and braced himself to receive the sneering frown of the City Editor and to bear the covert smiles of his fellow reporters. But he soon saw that no one had observed his mighty spring for a foothold and his ludicrous miss and fall. “Had anything in yet?” Kittredge inquired casually, late in the afternoon. “I wrote a column and a half yesterday and I found two lines among the City Jottings,” replied Howard, reddening but laughing. “The first story I wrote was cut to three lines but they got a libel suit on it.” II. THE CITY EDITOR RECONSIDERS. At the end of six weeks, the City Editor called Howard up to the desk and asked him to seat himself. He talked in a low tone so that the Assistant City Editor, reading the newspapers at a nearby desk, could not hear. “We like you, Mr. Howard.” Mr. Bowring spoke slowly and with a carefulness in selecting words that indicated embarrassment. “And we have been impressed by your earnestness. But we greatly fear that you are not fitted for this profession. You write well enough, but you do not seem to get the newspaper--the news--idea. So we feel that in justice to you and to ourselves we ought to let you know where you stand. If you wish, we shall be glad to have you remain with us two weeks longer. Meanwhile you can be looking about you. I am certain that you will succeed somewhere, in some line, sooner or later. But I think that the newspaper profession is a waste of your time.”