On the banks of the river Mr. McClure has built a dock and warehouse for the reception and storage of goods. Yesterday the scene on the water-front was an animated one. A bark from Palestine, manned by the swarthy children of the East, was discharging its cargo of photographs of the Holy Land, reminiscences of the Hebrew patriarchs, bales of straw garnered by Boaz especially for the McClure monthly, and other raw materials to be used in the literary works. In the offing I saw the fleet canal-boat _Potato Bug_, hailing from Galesburg, Ill., and laden with hitherto unpublished photographs of Ulysses S. Grant and recollections of that warrior, and of his uncles, his aunts, his progenitors, his progeny, his man-servant, his maid-servant, his cattle, and the reporter within his gates. At the same time a stanch schooner was receiving its cargo of serials, short stories, poems, and memoirs, destined for the New York office. I observed that the greatest care was exercised by the men in the work of stowing away the cargo, the ship having previously been ballasted with humorous articles and pungent literary reviews. I found the village apparently deserted; only the smoke from the chimneys showed me that the place was inhabited. But very soon the noon whistle blew, and almost immediately the streets swarmed with well-fed, cheerful literary toilers. I was deeply impressed with the evidences of contentment and happiness that greeted me on every side. In the bright faces that smiled into mine I saw nothing to remind me of the sullen, low-browed, haggard literary weavers that one encounters at the Authors’ Club, or that may be seen lurking in the doorways of Union Square, with poems clutched in their toil-stained hands. Some of the work is done in the shops under the supervision of foremen, but there is a great deal of piece-work given out and taken by the authors to their homes. Nearly a hundred hands are kept constantly busy on the Grant memoirs, under the careful supervision of Mr. Hamlin Garland. Near by, working under glass, I saw half a dozen pallid young men, all recent discoveries of Mr. W. D. Howells. The work of these spring lambs will be placed upon Mr. McClure’s counters at an early day.