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Some eighteen months ago I took this brilliant bunch of brain burrs to my esteemed Publisher and with much enthusiasm invited him to spend a lot of money thereon.

The Main Stem in the Works informed me that he had his fingers on the public pulse and just as soon as that pulse began to jump and yell for something from my fiery pen he would throw the _Silly Syclopedia_ at it.

Then he placed my MS. in the forward turret of his steel-armored safe, gave me a fairly good cigar and began to look hard in the direction of the elevator.

Last week, while searching for some missing government bonds, my Publisher found my sadly neglected MS. He at once reached over and grabbed the public pulse. To his astonishment it was jumping and making signs in my direction.

In a frenzied effort to make up for lost time my publisher then yelled feverishly for a printer.

Enclosed please find the result.

In the meantime, however, I figure that I have lost $41,894.03 in royalties, $74 worth of glory and about 14 cents worth of fame--tough, isn't it?

I think my Publisher should be censured for going out golfing and taking his fingers off the public pulse.

Don't you?


Chestnut Hill
June 12th, 1905