Rome is full of ghosts, answered the priest, "but there are the shadows of the good and the great as well as of the wicked. Walking alone in twilight on the Aventine, I should hardly be surprised to meet the spirit of Gregory the Great wandering amidst the scenes of his saintly life; nor do I ever go into the Pantheon at dusk without half expecting to see the shade of Raffaelle. And there are others鈥攕ome I knew in the flesh鈥擶iseman and Antonelli, Gibson, the sculptor, consummate artist and gentlest of men鈥攜es, Rome[Pg 321] is full of the shadows of the good and the wise. One can afford to put up with Nero." Most folks probably thought we just had a wacky chairman who was pulling a pretty primitive publicitystunt. What they didn't realize is that this sort of stuff goes on all the time at Wal-Mart. It's part of ourculture, and it runs through everything we do. Whether it's Saturday morning meetings or stockholders' Much of the credit for my own involvement belongs to Marshall Loeb, managing editor ofFortune andmy bosswho first dispatched me to the Ozarks in December of 1988, with a clear understanding thattaking no for an answer simply wasn't an option. Kris Dahl, my agent at ICM, first encouraged me towrite a book, and listened patiently to the ups and downs of this particular one for years. 高清成年美女黄网站色大全 Barchester Towers, for which I had received 锟?00 in advance, sold well enough to bring me further payments 鈥?moderate payments 鈥?from the publishers. From that day up to this very time in which I am writing, that book and The Warden together have given me almost every year some small income. I get the accounts very regularly, and I find that I have received 锟?27 11S. 3d. for the two. It is more than I got for the three or four works that came afterwards, but the payments have been spread over twenty years. The Editor鈥檚 Tales was a volume republished from the St. Paul鈥檚 Magazine, and professed to give an editor鈥檚 experience of his dealings with contributors. I do not think that there is a single incident in the book which could bring back to any one concerned the memory of a past event. And yet there is not an incident in it the outline of which was not presented to my mind by the remembrance of some fact:鈥?how an ingenious gentleman got into conversation with me, I not knowing that he knew me to be an editor, and pressed his little article on my notice; how I was addressed by a lady with a becoming pseudonym and with much equally becoming audacity; how I was appealed to by the dearest of little women whom here I have called Mary Gresley; how in my own early days there was a struggle over an abortive periodical which was intended to be the best thing ever done; how terrible was the tragedy of a poor drunkard, who with infinite learning at his command made one sad final effort to reclaim himself, and perished while he was making it; and lastly how a poor weak editor was driven nearly to madness by threatened litigation from a rejected contributor. Of these stories, The Spotted Dog, with the struggles of the drunkard scholar, is the best. I know now, however, that when the things were good they came out too quick one upon another to gain much attention 鈥?and so also, luckily, when they were bad.