Plain words indeed, but spoken in all sincerity and simple earnestness by one of the editors of The Outlook to the writer. I called at his office to submit a manuscript for his consideration, and I realized the truth of his statements. I was ragged and unkempt. My linen was filthy. The trousers I wore presented a miracle of greasy effects, brought about by two nights' employment as a dishwasher in a restaurant. My eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep. The manu-script I presented was prepared in the reading-room of the Cooper Union. I had slept in the parks and streets for two nights before preparing it. Its appearance would never convince even the most optimistic editor that it possessed any merit. I had not eaten any food for more than twenty-four hours. The only means that came to me of feeling like a human being were supplied by the free city baths. I managed through a trying crisis to refresh my body daily by their use. From my observation, I might state here that I consider the baths as the most potent factor, after the public schools, in educating the poor towards a higher grade of citizenship.

My experience with editors has been extensive, and, while the statements of The Outlook editor gave a hard jolt to my egotism, I recognized their truth and the kindliness that prompted their utterance. The questions he asked were ever recurring to my own mind during the trying days of my adversity. I

found the issues so involved at each effort to reach the cause of my failure that I had given up trying to determine it. In order to answer the editor's question I have made another diagnosis. Modern medical science determines the cause of disease and makes plans to prevent it by a thorough study of its history.

If heredity has aught to do with making for success, my career was assured from my birth. Behind me are generations of eminently successful men. In determining this

fact I have considered the limitations that conditions placed upon their activities. They were of a sturdy Norman-Irish stock, and among them were members of Parliament, engineers, and soldiers. The latter profession was always popular in my family, and my father adopted it. He served the British Government as an officer for more than thirty-five years. He did not possess wealth, but the memory of his sterling character is my most pleasant recollection. His income was ample for the needs of his family of ten children. Of course there was no extravagance. He was that marvel of his time—an Irish officer who hated debt and dissipation of any character. To my eyes his only vice was the barrack-like discipline he enforced upon his sons and under which I chafed.

The home in which I was born is a commodious stone structure in which any number of children could find room without coming within fighting distance. My brothers and myself could never maintain a proper distance, and, fisticuffs were our prevailing pastime. The punishment that father administered was never effective, but at each recurring offense it increased in intensity. The effect that this treatment had on my future during the formative period of my youth was not

favorable. Another factor in my home life that had an ill effect was that my father never invited my confidence. He repelled it. The fact is that I was never supposed to act on my own initiative.

I had an intense love for books in these boyhood days, and the song and story of my native Ireland supplied me with a wealth of legendary lore that fed the imagination. My primary education was obtained in a private school whose head master spent most of his time bemoaning the injustice done to the Church in Ireland by the Act of Disestablishment. The training in the rudiments was very thorough, and we received a special course in English poetry that familiarized us with Goldsmith, Pope, Dryden, Scott, and Byron. Here, also, I became familiar with Washington Irving's "Life of Napoleon Bonaparte," a work I have never heard spoken of during my eighteen years in America. In Dr. Jackson's School for Young Gentlemen we used it as a text-book, and it was highly regarded by our staff of teachers both as a literary production and on account of its historical merit.

I entered Trinity College, Dublin, and for four years enjoyed the educational and social privileges of that great institution. I had as my teachers during some period of this time such men as Sullivan in English literature, Tyndall in science, and Mahaffy in Greek. My time was not, however, given over exclusively to study. I maintained a fair standing in my classes and always made a creditable showing at the semester examinations. I found much time for pleasure, as we called it. We drank a little, smoked a whole lot, gambled more than was good for us, and went as deeply into debt as tradesmen would permit. The home restraint was removed, and I wallowed in my new freedom. I obtained my degree and stood eighteenth in a class of sixty-eight. From the reports I have received from time to time every member of the class has been successful with the exception of myself and two others.

In the light of my experience as a failure at forty, I am satisfied that the loose habits of living I contracted during this college period helped along toward the final result. It was in those days a case of buying to-day and paying at some convenient future time. This habit remained with me until about fourteen months ago, when I realized the folly of it.

Some months spent in the Royal Military

Academy in Woolwich, England, completed my school days. I objected to adopting a military career, and announced my objection by leaving the academy without consulting my father. He insisted on my return, and I vehemently objected. The day of that interview I left my dear home forever, and, although my father lived for fourteen years after, our only communication to the time of his death was through a third person, usually my dear mother.

What effect did the headstrong, willful spirit I displayed in this crisis, and which remains with me even to-day, have on my ultimate failure?

I turned to America at this period, as I knew the broken relations with my father would not be resumed until the heat had died out on both sides. I informed my mother of my wishes, and my father made liberal financial arrangements for my transportation and maintenance for a considerable time.. The day I set foot in the new land, as I still love to call the United States, was the day, when I really began the battle of life.

nearly twenty-three years old, and nature, training, and social environment had combined in giving me a generous and effective equipment for the struggle. I possessed an abundance of good health and indomitable energy. An optimistic outlook on life and certain social qualities multiplied my opportunities.

Al

A letter of introduction from a mutual friend to the then city editor of the Philadelphia "Public Ledger " obtained me a hearing and later employment as a reporter. The gentleman I refer to is still an active newspaper man and as enthusiastic a story-hunter to-day as I was in my cub days. He is Robert M. McWade, Washington correspondent. though he handled my copy without any regard to my feelings, I learned many things in newspaper-making and efficiency from him. The surroundings in the "Ledger " office at that time were most delightful. Many men of genius were connected directly or indirectly with its columns. In order to reach the editorial rooms one was compelled to climb several flights of steps, but to me during the short eight months I was employed on the paper the climb could be likened only to a modern Jacob's ladder. I never was employed in any office in which the relations between the members of the working force. were more friendly. My view of life sweetened and broadened under the influence of my surroundings. The "Ledger" handled

I was

I lost my position with the "Ledger because of a maudlin sense of duty to a woman of my acquaintance. In the course of my daily rounds I overheard two city clerks discussing the woman in a manner that I did not like. I told them the woman was a friend of mine. One of the men persisted in his statements, and I was Irish. the conqueror, but there was not much glory in the achievement. My resignation was in order. After writing it I never returned to the office to find out what action had been taken on it. I might add that I was about as well acquainted with the woman in question and had as good cause to protect her fair name as that of any of the thousands of women I have interviewed since that time. Furthermore, I became satisfied that the statements made by my adversary were only

too true.

I was out of employment, but I had some money in bank, and I decided to try the Middle West for a position. I advertised, and received several answers. One offered me a managing editorship in a city of nearly 70,000 population in the State of Michigan. I jumped at it, and, while the salary was not over-generous, the power and prestige that I dreamed of in my boyhood was in my grasp and I held on to it. As an executive

I was a misfit from every view-point. This fact I realized before I was a week on the job, but, strange as it may seem, I became a local celebrity within a month.

Before my

coming the editorial column was made up of reprint, mostly dealing with National and State politics. Through observation, and for the purpose of giving my personal ideas to the public, I decided on a local editorial policy. I "boosted" the city's great possibilities and knocked the feet from under the Board of Aldermen, which body was engaged in the ever ancient and always new game of grafting with paving contracts. The big advertisers who were visited daily by one of the owners of the newspaper noticed the innovation. They lauded it, and the owners were satisfied that they had procured a paragon at the salary of a "piker."

My incompetence was lost sight of in the

popularity of my propaganda. The ownerbusiness manager introduced me everywhere. My star was at its zenith, when everything went awry one beautiful spring day, because I had made false statements when I took the position. I claimed to have been in the United States for many years and that I had had more than five years' practical experience. My undoing was the result of a desire on the part of one of my employers to have me identified with the political party which the paper favored. He was chairman of the county committee, and he nominated me for the secretaryship of that body. My name was duly returned to the State Committee, and I received my commission from that body. I was not conscious of the honor conferred on me until this time, and I spent a bad night try-. ing to decide what to do. Finally I took the matter in the light of a joke and confided my dilemma to the city editor of the opposition paper, who had formerly worked in Chicago. He saw a "story," pumped me dry under the guise of friendship, and then proceeded to "roast" me unmercifully. He explained that I, an immigrant, only two years in the country, was seeking political preferment, and, it appeared, had already been elected to an office by the party. He warned me against illegal registration and voting, and cited the State statutes prescribing the punishments. He literally drove me out of town. In my year

in the city I had become well acquainted, and everybody gave me the laugh when I appeared on the streets. The raillery was kept up, and I waited patiently for a good opportunity to leave the city without showing the white feather. The time came when I was offered a better position on another newspaper. Making sure that the most proficient newsmongers in the town read the offer, I went to Chicago to make train connections, as it were, to my new job. I never saw the town whence the offer came, and I hardly think I ever will. I arrived in Washington, District of Columbia, a few days later, and another chapter in my history of failure was written in that beautiful city.

I

For five years I worked in the Nation's capital, with varying degrees of success. worked in various capacities as a newspaper man. Part of the time I was connected with the office of one of New York's great dailies, and through this work got in contact with the United States Senate and the plans of Federal legislation.

During this period of years I became more

I

of a "rounder " than the duties that devolved on me demanded. I did not dissipate to any great degree, but I kept late hours, slept as few hours a day as tired nature absolutely demanded, and worked prodigiously. spent money very freely, and never counted the cost of any pleasure while I possessed the money to enjoy it. In this manner my small bank account was soon exhausted, but I had obtained a wide knowledge of men and things through my association with the corps of Washington correspondents, men appointed to the position because of many years of able and faithful service in the home office of their newspapers.

Every young newspaper man who enters the National capital field and wishes to make a permanent connection learns in a short time that if he has ability and character and can obtain a foothold on the Washington "Star" his future is assured. During the five-year period mentioned this was my ambition, and I finally realized it. I also decided that I was becoming a little too fond of hearing the ice tinkling in the high-ball glass, and I decreed a war on the appetite. I was young, stubborn, and ambitious for the respect and confidence of my employers and my associates. So thoroughly did I rout the appetite that I did not taste malt or spirituous liquors of any kind for more than eight years. I worked hard and spent my vacations in travel. During my first years of service on the "Star" my assignments varied from that of the ordinary emergency man to the "covering" of the House of Representatives and the White House. When the management of the paper decided to issue a Sunday edition, I was transferred to that department as an assistant editor. My superior was sick a great deal, and this threw much responsibility on my shoulders. The prestige of the paper helped the Sunday edition, and its success was assured from the initial issue.

In this new position I edited copy, wrote an occasional story, assisted with the book reviews, "made up," and sometimes was authorized to purchase 66 "feature" stories.

My work was satisfactory, and I enjoyed a good salary. I saved some money every week. Some young men whom I knew were projecting a syndicate Sunday magazine section about the time that I had been associated with the "Star" for eight years.

They put all their own money into the ven ture, and I willingly joined them to the extent of my last dollar. A high-salaried egotist in New York took charge of our supplement. In three months it ceased publication and my savings were gone.

Here was a crisis that would try the metal of any man. It found me wanting in every essential. I lost courage and returned to the use of stimulants. When my day's work was over, I adjourned to a café and spent the evenings in drinking and card-playing. Thanks to a splendid constitution, I threw off the effects of the indulgences of the night before the next day's work began. This condition of affairs continued for almost two years. Then I decided that I was going to indulge my appetite any time during working hours when the nervous tension became too great. This was the beginning of the end. Friends advised me 66 to cut it out." I heeded no advice. I was always looking for trouble. My nerves were shattered and I began to realize that I was losing my grip.

One day my chief left a note on my desk calling my attention to my repeated and continued absences from my desk during office hours. The tone of the note was kindly, but I became almost insane when I received it. I grabbed a piece of paper and wrote my resignation-to take effect immediately. I sent it to him at his club, where he was playing golf. I have never seen him since that day.

That was my last position of a permanent character. My health was ruined and my system was undermined by my excesses. A few months' employment here and there have supplied my needs and the stimulants which I craved. I finally drifted to New York, and sank deeper and deeper in degradation. I became so shabby that I could not obtain work as a reporter, and I decided to try something else. I sold (or tried to sell) vacuum cleaners from door to door, and could not make my room rent out of my work. Then I tried addressing envelopes, and could not make sufficient money to pay room rent and buy food. I always was compelled by my desire to have enough money on hand for my alcoholic food. came to look upon this as necessary.

I

Such is the history of a failure. Many elements combined to produce it. The love of alcohol finished the work.

THE REMINISCENCES OF A

GREAT SCULPTOR

Augustus Saint-Gaudens, the first of American and one of the foremost of modern sculptors, died at his home in Windsor, Vermont, six years ago last August. His "Reminiscences," in two volumes, edited by his son, supplements the other biography of himself which he has left in his two studios at Windsor, preserved by Mrs. Saint-Gaudens ás a memorial of her husband. Although overshadowed by serious illness for a long time before his death, the sculptor was busily at work until the very end. The Whistler Memorial to be put in position at West Point had been completed and was being reproduced in marble; the Phillips Brooks Memorial for Boston, the Magee Monument for Pittsburgh, the Hanna Monument for Cleveland, the statue of Lincoln seated for Chicago, had passed out of the sculptor's hands, and the groups for the Boston Public Library had been so far advanced that it will be possible to complete them.

Saint-Gaudens's personality was singularly attractive; and his sensitive face, interesting in molding and in line, had been painted or photographed many times, and more than once with striking fidelity. These portraits and the great number of striking works which were the fruit of Saint-Gaudens's active genius may be taken in connection with "The Reminiscences of Augustus SaintGaudens" (The Century Company, New York) as conveying an unusually vital impression of a lovable man of genius. Without the slightest pretension to literary skill, and with a modesty which was never for a moment violated, Saint-Gaudens had used his pen in a very characteristic way, and his criticism and characterization of his contemporaries from the art point of view were singularly lucid, dispassionate, and distinct. Although a man of imagination in the most original sense-a man, that is, of striking genius-Saint-Gaudens had the sanity of nature and the clarity of vision which often go with the highest genius. He knew when his work was well done; and as Thackeray, another modest man, laid down his pen when he had finished the scene in which Rawdon Crawley wreaks his wrath on Lord Steyne and gave expression to his delight in what he knew was a stroke of great art, so Saint

Gaudens, looking at a finished achievement, could write:

I think I told you that my "Victory" is getting on well. It's the grandest "Victory" anybody ever made. Hooraah! And I shall have the model done in a month or so. On the other hand, I do not know whether I have told you that the cloak has been the sticking-point on the "Sherman." Well, I pointed and cast it with reluctance; and now, after a good rest, I went at it again to-day with a rush and with a new and simpler arrangement which I was able to make on the manikin. I worked like the devil until Antonio, my handsome Italian boy, brought in the lighted lamp because it was so dark, and tonight I feel I have that cloak now, just as I have the "Victory."

As a teacher the fine qualities of St. Gaudens's nature were constantly revealed. He was sympathetic and helpful; sometimes, his students thought, too considerate and gentle in criticism.

"Then when the prepared student came to my father's hands," writes his son, "he was told to work as naïvely and as primitively as possible, to leave no tool marks showing, to make his surfaces seem as if they had grown there, to develop technique and then to hide it. He assured them that they need never fear ruining their imagination or their sense of beauty by their attention to the fundamentals while in class. Esthetic qualities, if ever in them, would remain, though they could not be acquired at any price if not inherent. They were in the school to learn to handle their tools and to copy the model accurately and absolutely, until the ability to construct became automatic. They should be right even if they had to be ugly, and to that end they should take all the measurements they wished of a model, almost pointing the model down to their statue if they desired. Occasionally an inspired youth would remark that he never measured his work, upon which my father would promptly rage, for he said: 'You will have trouble enough in producing good art as it is, without scorning such mechanical means as you can take. Besides, continuous measuring will train your eye to see accurately. Nobody can give the length of a foot offhand as well as a carpenter."

The statue of Phillips Brooks came at the end of his life, and profoundly interested and moved him. He caressed" the figure, trying all manner of experiments with the pose and the dress.

Then, while he ruminated upon his task, a sincere change in his attitude towards his subject came over him. Hitherto, though educated a Catholic, he had never found appeal in the historical self-chastising doctrines of Christianity. Only the joy of religion had drawn from him any response. He always remembered his aversion to his schoolmates who, according to