moustache, Prince Albert coat and disordered necktie looked just as they did when I first saw their owner some years ago, when his luck was away down. The statement of the night's receipts was brought him while we stood there, and his share was a few dollars more than six hundred. "House not as good as last night," he said, "within a couple of dollars. Fact is, the business, although good, has not been better than it might be." "Why, Bartley, you don't quarrel about a couple of dollars, now you are in the height of success? What is your income from plays, anyway?" "I don't growl about a few dollars; but now is the time--see? When you can growl about them do it. Well, I'm getting on an average $1,500 a week now." "You'll soon be rich, Bartley." "Well, I am so accustomed to bad luck, perhaps I may meet some--see?" Bartley Campbell always says "see" in an interrogative way without much or any desire for an answer. In a rambling conversation about his varied career that followed, the drift of the talk got Christmas and poverty mixed, and Bartley told this story of his early struggles: "I had just gone to New Orleans with my wife, arriving there just when a newspaper had suspended, and twelve writers were, like myself, seeking journalistic work--only, unlike myself, they had acquaintances and friends; I neither; nor money, except five cents--see? The row was a hard one. After various 'shifts'--one of which was starting the _Southern Magazine_, which was brought out--we found ourselves, just before Christmas time, with nothing of importance except a grocery bill--see? I wrote a poem about Eddystone Light, and sent it to the _Nineteenth Century_, then published in Charleston, S. C., by Felix de Fontaine & Co. It was the small beginning of which the present _Nineteenth Century_ is the great result--see?"