But if I should say to him: "Mr. So and So" is a writer who is
excellently posted upon the value of cloth, as his father sold dry-
goods, it would appeal to his mind as bad taste.

Another journalist paid his respects to me some months ago in _El
Parlamentario_, saying I baked rolls, oppressed the people, and
sucked the blood of the workingman.

It would appear to be more demeaning to own a small factory or a shop,
according to the standards of both literary and non-literary circles,
than it is to accept money from the corruption funds of the Government,
or bounties from the exchequers of foreign Embassies.

When I hear talk nowadays about the dues of the common people, my
propensity to laugh is so great that I am apprehensive that my end may
be like that of the Greek philosopher in Diogenes Laertius, who died of
laughter because he saw an ass eating figs.




THE VEXATIONS OF A SMALL TRADESMAN


The trials and tribulations of the literary life, its feuds and its
backbitings are a common topic of conversation. However, I have never
experienced anything of the kind in literature. The trouble with
literature is that there is very little money in it, which renders the
writer's existence both mean and precarious.