--What am I doing? I am reading books full of facts--I am reading books that do not make me wretched. I am _not_ reading poetry. I am leaving it to time! * * * * * November 10th. It has been four weeks yesterday! I have been expecting to hear from the last publishers every day for a week. I have been trembling while I watched each mail. I have more than a hope that these publishers will take it--they publish a deal of poetry. But I have been practising my friend's plan, I have been saying to myself all day: “You might as well know that it is coming back. What is the use of trying to deceive yourself?” It has been four months since I finished The Captive! If I had known then what I know now, I do not believe I could ever have written a line of it. What do I know _now_? --I know more than I care to own to myself. There is a deadly growth taking root in the depths of my soul. * * * * * November 13th It is two months to-day since I gave up my last place. I have gotten along on just three dollars a week, including everything. I find it is not possible to do better than that, there are so many odds and ends one needs. I have spent twenty-seven dollars. I have twenty-nine dollars. That means I can try two, or possibly three, publishers--after this one. * * * * * November 16th. My method did make it easier after all. The letter came this morning. * * * * * “We have read with care the manuscript of The Captive which you have offered us. We are pleased to be able to tell you that we have found it a very fine piece of work, but we are sorry to say that our previous experience with publications of this character does not lead us to believe that we could make a success of it. “We are holding MS. subject to your order.” * * * * * I did a desperate thing to-day--two of them. First I had to go and get the manuscript, so I asked to see the publisher. I sat down and looked straight into his face and said: “How is a man who is trying to write what is fine to keep alive if the publishers won't publish what he writes?” He was very kind--he seemed to be interested. He explained that a publisher who published books that the public did not want would be driven out of business in a year. Then he said he knew many who were facing the same problem as I; that there was nothing to do but write for the magazines and the papers, and that it was a bitter shame that society made no provision for such men. “Your work is as noble and sincere as work can be,” he said, “but I do not believe that you will find a publisher in this country to undertake it, unless there be one who feels wealthy enough to do it as a service to literature and a labor of love.” * * * * *