What is the matter with them—are they mad? Great God, that any human creature!—And without a line about it!
—“We have carefully considered the MS. which you have kindly offered us, and regret that we are not advised to undertake its publication. We are returning the MS. with thanks for your courtesy in submitting it.”
That letter came to me like a blow in the face.—I have spent hours to-night pacing the streets, almost speechless. Fools!
—But I will not let such a thing disturb me for an instant. Yes, they are a great publishing-house—but such things as I have seen them publish! And they “regret.” Well, you will regret, some day, never fear!
July 19th.
The manuscript arrived this morning. I took it up-stairs and sat down, trembling, and read it all again.
I wish that I could see the man or woman who read that poem and rejected it—just that I might see what kind of looking person it is. Oh, the wildness of it, the surge and the roar of it! The glory of it!