Postal Riders and Raiders

by W. H. Gantz

The publishers present the evidence of their counting-rooms—the inside testimony. I desire to present some outside testimony.

I may present it in an awkward, raw way, but I have a conceit that the “jury” will give it consideration.

Three months ago, there was a “party at our house.” No, it was not a bridge party. Mrs. M. On The L. has, in my visual range, I can here assure you, many commendable virtues—meritorious qualities and qualifications. Likewise, she has some faults. The latter I cannot, if the dove of peace is to continue perching on our domicile lodge pole, mention here. I may, however, say with entire safety, that “bridge” and alleged similar feminine amusements are not among them.

The party to which I advert was a “tea.” The guests were six,—Mrs. M. On The L. serving. The guests not only had “the run” of the house, but they took possession of it. I stuck to my “den” until it was invaded and then—well, then, my dear trousered reader, I did precisely what you would have done. I backed off—I surrendered.

“What was the result?”

In this particular case, the chief feature of the result was that these seven women, in less than ten minutes, had appropriated every copy of all the latest, and some a month or more old, of the magazines and weeklies about my work-shop. They also annexed me. I “just had to go downstairs and have a cup of tea with them.” Although I am not entrancingly fond of tea, I did exactly what you would have done. I went. Necessarily, I had to be good. I was good. I said—as near as I knew how—the things that were proper to say and as near the proper time as I could. That is, I said little and listened much.

It is of what I heard—and afterward learned—I wish here to speak. I wish to speak of it because it fits like a glove to the point the publishers make in their “Exhibit F,” which is to follow.

While the hostess was preparing and spreading luncheon—a necessary concomitant of all “teas,” other than mentioned in novels—the six guests scanned the magazines and talked magazines. From their conversation it appeared that five of the six took, either by subscription or news-stand purchase, one or two monthly magazines “regularly.” Whether the ladies read them or not was not made clear to me. One of them did make mention of two “splendid stories”—“The Ne’er do Well,” by Rex Beach, and, at the time of the “tea,” appearing, in serial, in one of the monthlies. The other was a short story entitled “The Quitters,” which, the lady stated, had appeared in one of the magazines some time previous.

Now, so far as I can recall, the reference made by this one of the six ladies was the only mention made of the “literary” features of the magazines they had read or to such features of those they were examining. There was considerable talk and attention given to the body illustrations.