THE LOG OF THE "JOLLY POLLY"


Temptation came to me when I was in the worst possible position to
resist it.

It is a way temptation has. Whenever I swear off drinking
invariably I am invited to an ushers' dinner. Whenever I am rich,
only the highbrow publications that pay the least, want my work.
But the moment I am poverty-stricken the MANICURE GIRL'S MAGAZINE
and the ROT AND SPOT WEEKLY spring at me with offers of a dollar a
word. Temptation always is on the job. When I am down and out
temptation always is up and at me.

When first the Farrells tempted me my vogue had departed. On my
name and "past performances" I could still dispose of what I wrote,
but only to magazines that were just starting. The others knew I no
longer was a best-seller. All the real editors knew it. So did the
theatrical managers.

My books and plays had flourished in the dark age of the
historical-romantic novel. My heroes wore gauntlets and long
swords. They fought for the Cardinal or the King, and each

loved a high-born demoiselle who was a ward of the King or the
Cardinal, and with feminine perversity, always of whichever one her
young man was fighting. With people who had never read Guizot's
"History of France," my books were popular, and for me made a great
deal of money. This was fortunate, for my parents had left me
nothing save expensive tastes. When the tastes became habits, the