transformed his guess as to what the public wants into a fundamental
principle, and acted upon it with the confidence of an Aristotle. He
asserts freely and frankly that, in his private capacity, such and
such a story pleases _him_, is _good_ (privately he is an impressionist
and holds opinions far more valid than his editorial judgment, since
they are founded upon taste and not upon intuition merely); but that
"the public will not like it," or "in our rivalry with seventy other
magazines we cannot afford to print this excellent work." He is
frequently right. He is also frequently wrong.

I speak not from personal experience, since other reasons in my
own case have usually, though not always, led me to agree with the
editor's verdict, when it has been unfavorable; but from the
broader testimony of many writers, the indisputable evidence of
works thus rejected which have later attained success, and the
failure of American short fiction to impress permanently the
reading public. Based upon an intuition of the public mind,
changing with the wind,--always after, never before it,--such
editorial judgment, indeed, must be of doubtful validity; must
lead in many instances to unwise and unprofitable restrictions
upon originality in fiction.

I am well aware that it is useless to consider current American
literature without regard to the multitude of readers who, being,
like all multitude, mediocre, demand the mediocre in literature.
And I know that it is equally foolish to neglect the popular
elements in the developing American genius--that genius which is
so colloquial now, and yet so inventive; so vulgar sometimes, and
yet, when sophistication is not forced upon it, so fresh. I have
no wish to evade the necessity for consulting the wishes and the