Another guest, and a favorite one too, is the strangely gifted romancer who poses as a literary man because he has sold two sonnets and a short story to one of the magazines, and of whom it is related in an awestruck whisper that he once went through Mulberry Bend, disguised with green side-whiskers and under the protection of a Central Office detective--all this in search of what he calls “local color.” Our young friend from Park Row spent two hours in Mulberry Bend the night before in search of a “story” for his paper, and has the hardihood to say so to the charming young girl beside him, adding that he felt as safe as if he had been at an organ recital. The next moment he realizes that he has made a mistake in trying to destroy any of the glamour that shines from the green whiskers and the detective. The conversation now turns upon the availability of New York as a field for the writer of fiction, and is ably sustained by a young gentleman who is known to be “literary,” although no one can say definitely what he has written. However, he is literary enough to have a place in this _salon_, and to take a leading part in the discussions which go on there. He is very decided in his views regarding literature, as distinguished from what he calls “mere newspaper scribbling,” and does not scruple to express his contempt for anything that is not printed either in a magazine or “between covers,” as he puts it in his careless, professional fashion. Like many a one of the gentler sex, he has been dazzled in early life by the glare from the supercalendered paper. It is now nearly two years since he first began to be a literary man, and he regards the progress that he has made during that period as extremely gratifying, for he has put himself on an excellent footing in three or four of the most delightful literary and artistic _salons_ in the city, and confidently expects to have a story published in one of the leading monthlies by midsummer. And that story will be published, as I happen to know, as soon as he has made certain alterations suggested by the editor--taken out the strong scene between the banker’s daughter and the poor but impulsive suitor, and modified various sentences which in their present form might wound the susceptibilities of a large contingent of subscribers. This promising young writer has been such a constant visitor to magazine offices since he first embarked on a literary career, and has associated so much with the junior members of the editorial staffs (or staves?), that his opinions are a reflex of theirs, and he is now thoroughly in accord with those with whom he is anxious to do business.