impressed by your earnestness. But we greatly fear that you are not fitted
for this profession. You write well enough, but you do not seem to get the
newspaper--the news--idea. So we feel that in justice to you and to
ourselves we ought to let you know where you stand. If you wish, we shall
be glad to have you remain with us two weeks longer. Meanwhile you can be
looking about you. I am certain that you will succeed somewhere, in some
line, sooner or later. But I think that the newspaper profession is a waste
of your time."

Howard had expected this. Failure after failure, his articles thrown away
or rewritten by the copyreaders, had prepared him for the blow. Yet it
crushed him for the moment. His voice was not steady as he replied:

"No doubt you are right. Thank you for taking the trouble to study my case
and tell me so soon."

"Don't hesitate to stay on for the two weeks," Mr. Bowring continued. "We
can make you useful to us. And you can look about to much better advantage
than if you were out of a place."

"I'll stay the two weeks," Howard said, "unless I find something sooner."

"Don't be more discouraged than you can help," said Mr. Bowring. "You may
be very grateful before long for finding out so early what many of us--I
myself, I fear--find out after years and--when it is too late."

Always that note of despair; always that pointing to the motto over the
door of the profession: "Abandon hope, ye who enter here." What was the
explanation? Were these men right? Was he wrong in thinking that journalism
offered the most splendid of careers--the development of the mind and the