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Student Name: __________________
Class and Section __________________
Total Points (20 pts) __________________
Due: August 29, 2016 before the class

Project: Locker Puzzle

Armstrong Atlantic State University

Problem Description:
A school has 100 lockers and 100 students. All lockers are closed on the first day of
school. As the students enter, the first student, denoted S1, opens every locker. Then the
second student, S2, begins with the second locker, denoted L2, and closes every other
locker. Student S3 begins with the third locker and changes every third locker (closes it if
it was open, and opens it if it was closed). Student S4 begins with locker L4 and changes
every fourth locker. Student S5 starts with L5 and changes every fifth locker, and so on,
until student S100 changes L100.

After all the students have passed through the building and changed the lockers, which
lockers are open? Write a program to find your answer.

(Hint: Use an array of 100 Boolean elements, each of which indicates whether a locker is
open (true) or closed (false). Initially, all lockers are closed.)

Analysis:
(Describe the problem including input and output in your own words.)

Design:
(Describe the major steps for solving the problem.)

1
Coding: (Copy and Paste Source Code here. Format your code using Courier 10pts)

Testing: (Describe how you test this program)

Submit the following items:

1. Print this Word file and Submit to me before the class on the due day

2. Compile, Run, and Submit to LiveLab as Exercise7_15 (you must submit the program
regardless whether it complete or incomplete, correct or incorrect)

Solution:

#include <iostream>
using namespace std;

int main()
{
// Declare a constant value for the number of lockers
const int NUMBER_OF_LOCKER = 100;

// Create an array to store the status of each array

2
 // The first student closes all lockers
bool lockers[NUMBER_OF_LOCKER];
for (int i = 0; i < NUMBER_OF_LOCKER; i++) {
lockers[i] = false;
}

// Each student changes the lockers

for (int j = 1; j <= NUMBER_OF_LOCKER; j++) {
// Student Sj changes every jth clocker
// starting from the lockers[j - 1].
for (int i = j - 1; i < NUMBER_OF_LOCKER; i += j) {
lockers[i] = !lockers[i];
}
}

// Finds which one is open

for (int i = 0; i < NUMBER_OF_LOCKER; i++) {
if (lockers[i])
cout << "Locker " << (i + 1) << " is open" << endl;
}

return 0;
}

3
Another Random Scribd Document
with Unrelated Content
essential justice, nothing can be more to the purpose apparently
than a reference to disinterested, non-professional, intelligent, and
friendly persons; but two parties honestly bent on such an object
would probably have nothing to quarrel over. Even if they have it is
not certain that the informal is better than the formal mode of
settlement. If there are no facts to be hushed up, a legal
investigation will do no harm; if there are facts to be hushed up, a
legal investigation is necessary. We look at the law as at best a
clumsy roundabout way of arriving at just conclusions—a method full
of ingenious devices to entangle and confuse witnesses and make
the worse appear the better reason. We take the informal arbitration
as a short cut to the desired goal. On the whole I am inclined to
think that the law is the shortest cut in the known world. The rules
which obtain in courts of justice and which seem to the
unprofessional mind a mere medley of arbitrary vexations and
restrictions, are the result of the experience of ages, and with all
their short-comings and their long-comings do probably present the
most expeditious and unerring mode of reaching truth which human
wit and wisdom have yet devised. If so we cannot depart from them
without loss. In ridding ourselves of their clumsiness we rid
ourselves also of their effectiveness. We rend away the red tape, but
the package immediately falls apart into a worthless heap of
memoranda. You avoid a lawsuit because of the publicity and
multiplicity and infelicity of lawyers, witnesses, judge, and jury. You
adopt a reference because it dispenses with all these and goes
straight at the heart of things. But you find by experience that
unless your opponent wishes it you may not get at the heart of
things at all. In a lawsuit you can enforce measures; in a reference
you are dependent upon courtesy. Your opponent presents only that
which is good in his own eyes. He produces what he chooses; he
withholds what he chooses. To be sure you do the same; but you,
angel that you are, have nothing to hide, while he, the fiend! has all
manner of wiles and wickedness to conceal. If now you were in
court, politeness and impertinence would be equally and wholly out
of the question. It is the duty and delight of lawyers to find out
everything—and such is the depravity of the legal heart, it is
especially their duty and delight to ferret out what the opposite party
desires to conceal. It is not what a man wishes and means to say,
but everything which he can be made to say, that a lawyer wants.
His hand can put aside the proffered “books,” and grab the books
which are withheld. He does not permit the opposite parties to select
and exclude witnesses, but goes out into the highways and hedges
and compels to come in whom he wants. The law winds a long way
round, but it sets you down as near your journey's end as the nature
of things permits. A private reference takes a short cut, but it has no
inherent power to carry you far from your starting-point. Arbitration
has the advantage in respect of privacy, and that is an advantage
not to be overestimated. Still, if there is anything to choose when
both are intolerable, it seems rather worse to speak yourself before
five men, than to have some one else to speak for you before five
hundred. It matters not how wise, how impartial, referees may be,
their jurisdiction is necessarily limited, and they cannot go beyond it
to compel, or extort, or present. They must judge on what is
spontaneously set before them. If to avoid trouble and
unpleasantness be your object, it is better to submit to everything
and keep out of strife altogether. If you set out to accomplish an
end, it is better to shut eyes and ears to disagreements, and take
the road which common experience designates as the surest and
safest in the long run.
But I most heartily advise writers in general to do neither. So far
as the improvement of one's fortune goes, nothing is more futile.
One should be exact, prompt, methodical, and intelligent so far as
possible. He will thus exert a salutary influence over his publisher,
and will be far more likely to receive his dues than if he believes “in
uninquiring trust” and lives wholly by faith. But it is better for his
purse to take what a publisher chooses to give than to make an ado
about it afterwards. Even if successful in regard to the particular
sum he claims, it is at a cost of time and trouble altogether
disproportionate to it. He plays an unequal game at best, because
the publisher's business goes on serenely, during all the difficulty,
while the author's must be at a stand-still. The very instrument that
he uses in defending his works is the instrument which he ought to
be using in producing them. Even as a pecuniary transaction it is far
more profitable to sow seed for future harvests than to spend
strength in trying to secure the gleanings of last year's growths. The
money proceeds of the insurrection, whose history has been given in
these pages, was twelve hundred and fifty dollars. The whole
amount claimed to make up ten per cent. was about three thousand
dollars, and considering that my whole plan of proceedings was
demolished in the beginning, and that the case had to present itself,
as one may say, smothered in a mass of irrelevant details, and
deprived of much that was to the purpose, I reckoned myself
extremely well off. But even had the whole sum been awarded, it
would have been no very munificent compensation for eighteen
months of literary labor, apart from the fact that the labor was of a
kind for which no money could compensate. In its baldest shape, the
results of a year and a half of work were twelve hundred and fifty
dollars, or little more than one third of what was claimed on previous
work. I think myself therefore justified in asserting that though
quarreling with your publishers may be very good as a crusade, it is
a very poor way of getting a living.
Let me here correct an impression that seems to prevail somewhat
extensively as to the rewards of literary life. It certainly has its
rewards, and of the most delightful kind. What joys it may bring in
the higher walks I do not know, but even on the lower levels, I
should like to live forever—a thousand years to begin with, at any
rate. I could speak as enthusiastically as a certain popular writer,
“once more famous than now,” “Of all the blessings which my books
have brought me,—blessings of inward wealth that cannot be so
much as named,—blessings so rich, so divine, that I sometimes think
nothing ever was so beautiful as to have written a book.”
But so far as literature pays cash down it is not to be compared to
—shoemaking, for instance. The daily papers have been circulating a
paragraph to the effect that a recent popular book had gone to a
second edition and that its author had already received from it
twelve thousand dollars. I am not prepared to deny the statement;
but I know an author of nine books, not it is to be hoped on the
same footing of intrinsic merit, but books which have travelled up to
nine, ten, and fourteen editions, whose author never has received
and never expects to receive twelve thousand dollars on the whole
lot.
Let nothing in this remark be construed into anything like
complaint. On the contrary, authors ought to be grateful to their
publishers for allowing them so large a gratuity. As Mr. Parry
remarked concerning the appropriation of an edition of fifteen
hundred books to the use of the firm, they might have taken more if
they had chosen. And when we reflect that not only do they bestow
upon us these large sums of money, but, as sundry extracts in other
parts of this volume show, they first manufacture for us the fame
which brings the money, we are, in the language of the hymn, lost in
wonder, love, and praise. It must be heart-rending to fashion your
graven image and then have that image turn upon you and demand
a share of the profits!
Unhappily a dense ignorance upon this subject broods over the
community, and there should be added to our literature an

AUTHOR'S CATECHISM.
1. Question. Can you tell me, child, who made you?
Answer. The great House of Hunt, Parry, & Co., which made
heaven and earth.

In controversies with publishers, the author is at a signal

disadvantage by reason of the connection of publishers with the
press. Publishers have the entrée of the newspapers by their
advertising, and all in the way of business, it is the easiest thing in
the world to give public opinion a tilt in the desired direction without
the least suspicion on the part of the reader, or any more collusion
on the part of the editor than is implied in a good-natured
relinquishment of a few lines of editorial space. Here, we will say, is
a house which advertises to the extent of hundreds, perhaps
thousands of dollars in a single paper. In connection with an
extraordinary advertisement, it hands to the editor an extraordinary
paragraph, celebrating its more extraordinary virtues. The
advertisement goes in among the advertisements, and the eulogy
goes in among the editorials and becomes the voice of the paper.
Nobody is hurt, and the firm is greatly helped in building up for itself
name and fame. When the Athenian newspapers glow with
reflections upon the inability of authors to understand the details of
publishing and the unimpeached and unimpeachable honor of the
house of Hunt, Parry, & Co., not half a dozen readers suspect that
those reflections are anything but the spontaneous tribute of a
grateful people to the eminent firm in question. Nobody suspects
that behind all the glitter and glory some pestiferous little author is
poking an inquisitive finger in among those details, is indeed
questioning that unimpeached and unimpeachable honor, and that
this beating of gongs is but Chinese strategy on the part of the
attacked, to scare away the impertinent foe. I can make no avowal
on this head, having nothing but internal evidence to go upon: but
applying the rules of Scriptural exegesis, it seems to me that we
attribute to the four Gospels a divine origin on less evidence than we
may attribute to these eulogies a common origin.
For instance, during that portion of the sidereal year known
throughout the solar system as Jubilee week, the press of Athens
burned with enthusiasm for the house of Hunt, Parry, & Co.

“The broadside advertisement,” says one, “with which the

renowned publishing house of Messrs. Hunt, Parry, & Co. salute the
country in this jubilee time on another page of this morning's Post,
will excite universal attention and remark. It details the literary
achievements of this enterprising firm during the last year and a half
in a form that is both novel and impressive. Where are the
publishers on this continent who within that term have presented to
the reading public works from [how many?] different authors, nearly
all of whom are living celebrities? It would be glory enough for any
firm to have announced original works from less than one fourth that
number of well-known authors. Read the glittering roll of names as
they are presented. In poetry, L., T., L., B., and W. Of novelists, D.,
T., S., H., H., R., and G. And of essayists, travellers, writers on
natural history and science, such a shining company of men and
women of genius as will make book-shelves brilliant for all time to
come. But these publishers have not compromised quality with
quantity. They hold up to their high standard in every essay in which
they engage. Nor are they in any sense such devotees of Mammon
as to think it possible to build a lasting reputation on anything less
substantial than true honor in dealing as well as indisputable worth
in selection.
“Their shelves and counters are an embarrassment of literary
riches. Such a display of the ripest fruits of culture, taste, judgment,
enterprise, and business sagacity cannot be surpassed. Their
wonderful march to their eminent and leading position as publishers
has given an excellent example to the country in refining and
solidifying the common rules of business in their own field, and
elevating and dignifying a branch of trade than which not one is
clothed with nobler and purer associations. From this house, also, go
forth a quarterly, two monthlies, and a weekly magazine, any one of
which would add lustre to the repute of the publishers. None but
sound and sweet literature comes from hence. It is the aim of the
firm to keep the fountain clear from which such incessant streams of
influence are to flow. American authors contribute in large store to
the rich treasury of its productions, while foreign, and especially
British writers supply in large degree the stores of reading, which are
the recreation and delight of cultivated people everywhere.”

And thus another paper takes up the parable:—

 “Our first page to-day is entirely devoted to a remarkable
advertisement, which tells the story of rare business enterprise, and
is filled to overflowing with attractive announcements. But it is for
characteristics other than these that it will command attention and
really deserve study. Within a year and a half, Hunt, Parry, & Co.
have given to the public works from the pens of two score of
authors, American and English, almost all of them living and of
widest popularity. To represent in print a half-dozen of the most
prominent on the list might be the making of any firm; to take care
of the whole of them would seem to be an embarrassment of riches.
But the establishment has done and is doing this, with unremitting
energy and in good style. We need not take room to run over the
long and brilliant catalogue; a glance at the eight columns will reveal
a galaxy of shining names. Observe the poets,—T., B., L., and L., W.,
and the rest; count up the novelists—S., T., D., R., G., H., and others
of the tribe; consider the array of essayists, travellers, and
naturalists, men and women of mark; and then ask whether Hunt,
Parry, & Co. are surpassed by any of their contemporaries in their
numerous issues, taking quantity, quality, and variety into the
account. In offering this broadside programme of their
performances, as bookmakers and booksellers, to the crowds of
Jubilee week, they put forth a statement of indisputable facts; give a
transcript of the record of the volumes they have issued, and their
relations to eminent writers.
“Their achievements imply something more than an immediate
and exclusive eye to the main chance. It is evident that the
honorable pursuit of profit is not with them the sole consideration.
[O that it were!] They desire to connect their names with good
literature, advanced thought, and the intellectual progress of the
age. They would be known for their taste and liberal policy as well
as for their mercantile success; acting upon the principle that
character as well as money is worth earning in the pursuits of trade
and commerce. Without entering into comparisons, thus much is
fairly to be inferred from their extended advertisement. It tells of
results which imply the existence of the qualities we have attributed
to them; for without such qualities such results could not have been
attained. The evidence of culture, judgment, sagacity, energy,
boldness, tact, skill, and whatever else goes to the building up of a
publishing house known at home and abroad for its magnitude and
the extent and variety of its ventures, is literally such that he who
runs may read and see that it is beyond controversy. This is not
extravagant praise or mere compliment; but simply the statement of
the truth as made manifest by the facts.
“In this general reference to Messrs. Hunt, Parry, & Co., we must
not, in passing, omit an allusion to their periodicals. To them the
public are indebted for the maintenance of the oldest Greek
Quarterly, the agreeable and fresh weekly selections of ‘Every
Tuesday,’ the wide circulation and high character for ability, diversity,
and independence of the ‘Adriatic Monthly,’ and that leading
magazine of its class, ‘The Buddhist.’
“In thus calling attention to a publishing house whose imprint is
known wherever the Greek language is spoken or read, we are
pointing to what is one of the leading concerns in a most important
branch of the business of the city, of which others besides its
proprietors may well be proud. Not only has it grown with the
growing culture of the country, but it has encouraged home authors,
and spread far and wide the best productions of the best writers on
the other side of the Atlantic; thus giving it a claim to honorable
consideration as holding a high place among the beneficent agencies
of the advancing civilization of the world.”

And a third chimes in:—

“The firm of Hunt, Parry, & Co., now almost as familiar to the
public under the new name as under the old colors with which it
sailed so long, has been a bulwark and a rallying point for our
literature, on which book buyers as well as book writers depended
for many years. It has always been active, but never so active as
now. In another part of this paper, this house advertise their
principal publications for the past eighteen months. With little more
amplification than a catalogue, the list fills a very considerable
space; but it is when we come to appreciate quality as well as
quantity that its full importance is realized. No other Athenian house
could bulletin such a list of authors, beginning with L., and ranging
along the varied types of our literature, from W., S., H., H., and L., to
P., H., and A. Nor can any house exhibit such a list of English writers,
with the added merit of the authors' sanction, as T., B., H., E., D.,
and R.
“Periodicals have come to be recognized as necessary tenders to
the business of every book firm; but the monthlies and the quarterly,
etc., etc., etc.
“Whatever may be the differing opinions after the experiences of
this week, upon the commercial position and prospects of Athens
and the success of her musical experiments, there can be no dispute
as to our preëminence among Greek cities as a literary centre. Even
Corinthians, bitterly as they may sneer at our Jubilee, are forced to
read the works of Athenian authors and to supply their libraries with
Athenian books. It would be impossible to estimate approximately
the influence in producing the literary character of the city, its
clustering of authors, its tone of society, of one great publishing
house; but unquestionably that influence is very great.”
An ill-timed modesty on the part of the firm of Hunt, Parry, & Co.
has apparently prevented the publication of the fact, but it is well
known in Athenian social circles that the eclipse which made the last
summer famous, and which elicited so much interest throughout the
scientific world, was not owing to the interposition of the moon
between our planet and the sun, but was chiefly due to the
temporary disappearance from this continent of the senior partner of
the house of Hunt, Parry, & Co.
I do not say that the extracts which I have quoted, and others
which I might quote, emanated from the same pen, or that that pen
was held in the interest of Hunt, Parry, & Co., but I do say that on
any other theory the correspondence of thought, of illustration, and
even of language is not a little remarkable.
And if this theory be correct, if the house which has perhaps the
reputation of being the most liberal, the most generous, and the
most refined publishing house in this country, has attained that
reputation by assiduously blowing its own trumpet while assiduously
strangling its own authors, of what value is reputation?
A novel and striking illustration of my theme has just come to
hand in the publication of Miss Mitbridge's “Letters.” In 1754 she
writes of Mr. Hunt: “He is a partner in the greatest publishing house
of Greece, and the especial patron of——, whom he found starving,
and has made affluent by his encouragement and liberality, for the
great romancer is so nervous that he wants as much kindness of
management, as much mental nursing as a sick child. I have never
known a more charming person than Mr. Hunt.”
The author to whom Miss Mitbridge refers is the author of whose
real or supposed wrongs I have before spoken. If these publishers
were indeed so liberal towards him, the unanimity with which that
author's family and friends agree in attributing to them the contrary
policy is a singular proof of ingratitude to benefactors; and Mr. Hunt
may well exclaim with the Prophet of old, “I have nourished and
brought up children, and they have rebelled against me.”
I do not know what force these adulatory remarks may have upon
the minds of others, but my experience and my information are such
that whenever I see in the newspapers a fresh ascription of praise to
the liberality of this house, I immediately infer that the screw has
been given another turn on some unlucky author. The firm appears
to me in the similitude of evil-minded hens cackling their noisy cut-
cut-cut-ca-dah-cut over each new-laid egg, designing to conceal
from an uninquiring public that, like those laymen denounced by
Isaiah, they “hatch cockatrices' eggs; he that eateth of their eggs
dieth, and that which is crushed breaketh out into a viper.”
 At a later period these general paragraphs began to converge
around a particular point, and snugly nestled in among the literary
items of religious newspapers may be found such announcements as
this:—

“The public is threatened with a new book by the once

redoubtable M. N., in which she is to narrate her tribulations, real or
imaginary, with the eminent publishers, Hunt, Parry, & Co. Authors
are very apt to have extravagant ideas of the popularity and profits
of their books, unmindful of the fact that, generally, they are
indebted to their publishers for a large proportion of their fame, and
it will take several books to convince the public that H., P., & Co. deal
unfairly with their authors. Thus far, H., P., & Co. have kept quiet
during M. N.'s attacks, but we hope the time will come when they
will vindicate themselves.”

And almost simultaneously, in another quarter of the heavens,

appears a similar turtle-dove, its pin-feathers developed into well-
defined plumage, but unquestionably a bird of the same brood:—

“M. N., once more famous than now, had a little ‘unpleasantness’
with her publishers, Hunt, Parry, & Co. In plain words, she accused
them of cheating her out of some thousands of dollars by making
false returns of sales of her books. Like many authors, she had
become inordinately vain, and had extravagant ideas of the
popularity of her books, and was, as is too often the case, unmindful
of the fact that a large portion of what fame she then had (but has
now lost) was made for her by these self-same publishers. She had a
quarrel with them of eighteen months standing, but they would not
even appear in self-defense; what man would want to have an open
quarrel with a woman? To any one acquainted with the details of
book publishing, the charge she brings against H., P., & Co. is simply
absurd; and besides, no business man would ever dare to suspect
this publishing house to attempt such a system of petty cheating,
and which, if attempted, would involve an amount of detail
inconsistent with the end to be reached. H., P., & Co. are above the
taint of suspicion. The truth is, M. N.'s books did not sell so well as
she expected, and her pride (and her pocket) had a fall. It is known
to us that an enormous outlay in advertising failed to make a
remunerative sale on her last book. It fell dead on the market. It is
now very quietly rumored that she has written a little volume which
she proposes to call ‘Little Men,’ in which she describes her
tribulations with the house of H., P., & Co.... M. N., you had better
not! the public will not believe you.”

The public will at least believe that, though a once redoubtable

author, like Giant Pope in the Pilgrim's Progress, by reason of age,
and also of the many shrewd brushes that he met with in his
younger days, be grown crazy and stiff in his joints, he can at least
sit in his cave's mouth, grinning at publishers as they go by, and
biting his nails, because he cannot come at them!
It is not probable that these later paragraphs were actually written
by the rose, but by some one who lives near the rose, and who
takes roseate views of the situation.
When one has been introduced behind the scenes, these little
touches go for what they are worth, but outside, they
unquestionably, if imperceptibly, affect public opinion, and like an
army of moral polyps build high the walls of lofty Rome. (A new
species of polyps, the naturalist will say, but it answers my purpose.)
But while recognizing, to its fullest extent, the great power and
prestige of a flourishing publishing house, and the great risk a writer
runs in opposing it, I cannot bring myself to accept its invincibility, or
its infallibility, or its indispensability. Of course a good reputation is,
or ought to be, the sign of a good character; but a thing which is
wrong is wrong, whatever be the reputation of him who does it. A
charge of wrong is to be met by denial. It is not to dazzled out of
sight in a general brilliancy. When the course of our true love ceased
to run smooth, I supposed my pebble was the only obstacle which
my publishers' rivulet had ever known, and I was dismayed
accordingly. But if all the rocks I have since discovered could be cast
into one heap, we should have a bigger monument than Joshua
made to mark the passage of Jordan. But the monumenteers suffer
in silence or speak with a bated breath that cannot be heard outside
their own circle, while the flourishing firm keeps up such a
continuous tooting with its rams' horns as would have flung flat the
walls of Jericho had they been twice as stout as they were.
Undoubtedly it is not wise always to make an outcry over your follies
or misfortunes. Neither is it wise always to go through the world
with a chip on your shoulder, challenging people to fillip it off. Yet we
all admit that there are times when short, sharp, and decisive
resistance to aggression is the wisest plan. So also is there a time to
speak as well as a time to refrain from speaking. There may be
dignity, there may be generosity, there may be prudence, or
pusillanimity, or selfishness in silence. There may be all in speech. Of
this I am certain, if any of those writers who have escaped harm by
their own skill, or any of those who have thought to escape further
harm by silence had but given warning of the existence of rocks,
some of us, with less skill, would have avoided that vicinage and
might have had smooth sailing through the whole voyage. By their
silence they have not only indirectly contributed to our disaster, but
they have actually strengthened against us the hands of our natural
foes, the publishers. They make it possible for a newspaper to say,
in reference to the present difficulty, “As the house (of H., P., & Co.)
has been in thriving existence for more than a quarter of a century,
and has never before quarreled with an author,—or more correctly
speaking, never had an author quarrel with it,—there will be a
general disposition,” and so forth. They thus directly increase the
resistance which any succeeding author must overcome. “Nothing,”
says “The Nation” newspaper of January 13, 1770, in harsher
language than I care to use, but we must take language as we find
it,—“Nothing so promotes swindle as the readiness of the victims to
pocket their losses, go their way with a sickly smile, and let the
rogues begin again.” But of course this must be left for each person
to decide for himself. It is only that if one feels moved in the spirit to
bear witness against wrong in any of the relations of life, there is
nothing in the height, or depth, or breadth, or brilliancy of any
reputation to overawe him. Nothing is real but the right. There is no
life but in truth. When faith is lost, when honor dies, the man is
dead. Dead? He never was born. There never was any such person.
He was a mirage, an apparition. The stars dim twinkle through his
form.
As to the harm that may accrue to an author from adopting the
course which he counts wise, it seems to me entirely insignificant.
Nobody expects to go through the world intact, but we all expect to
do that which presents itself to be done. If a writer has life in
himself he will not easily die. If he has not life in himself the sooner
he dies the better. If there is no life outside one charmed circle,

“Then am I dead to all the globe,

And all the globe is dead to me.”

Nothing is indispensable but a mind at peace with itself. It is

pleasant to celebrate the glory of those you love, but better trudge
comfortably across country on foot and alone, with all your worldly
goods knotted up in a yellow bandana than ride unwillingly behind
anybody's triumphal car.
So then, while it is undoubtedly best as a general thing for an
author to live at peace with publishers, and sinners, there is also no
reason why he should not make war if it is borne in upon him to do
so.
But the only royal road to justice is for authors, in the beginning,
to be intelligent, prompt, exact and exacting on all business matters
which come within their scope. This seems a little thing, but it would
work a revolution in the literary world. Let writers deal with
publishers, not like women and idiots, but as business men with
business men. If an author chooses to relinquish all pecuniary
rewards from his books and to make an outright gift of the profits to
his publishers, he may leave the whole matter in their hands; but if
he condescends to take any part in the spoils, he thereby becomes a
business partner, and the only question is whether he shall be a
good business man or a poor one. By not being prompt and
intelligent, by neglecting to secure or to examine his accounts, or to
correct them when they are wrong, or to understand them when
they are obscure, he does not approve himself an unmercenary
person; he simply shows himself to be shambling and shiftless, and
puts a direct temptation in his publisher's path. Many a servant
would be honest if her careless mistress would not leave money
lying about. Had I but used the ordinary care and caution which a
lawyer, or a merchant, or a marketman brings to his business, this
trouble doubtless would never have happened, and we should all
have been the happier for it. The simple consciousness on the part
of a publisher, that an author is observant of what is visible, will
have a tendency to make him exact and upright concerning what is
invisible. An author should so order his affairs that a publisher must
make an effort to be dishonest. On the contrary, he so neglects
them that a publisher must make an effort to be honest. Confidence
and trust are excellent things and never more excellent than when
they have a solid basis of paper and ink. Do the best he can there
will still be points enough for the author to exercise his trust on, but
to do business wholly on the trust system is utterly childish. No
confidence can be more complete than was mine, and none
apparently can be founded on a more honorable reputation. The
confidential, friendly way of conducting affairs is pretty and
sentimental, grateful to one's indolence and vanity and over
fastidiousness, and confirmatory of one's conviction that he is too
dainty and delicate to touch a bargain with the tips of his fingers.
But in fact we all do take money for our work when we can get it;
we want just as much money and money just as much as other
people—rather more—and, in sober truth, the friction, the sacrifice
of delicacy in keeping your money affairs straight from day to day, is
not for a moment to be compared to the delicacy which may be
sacrificed by leaving them at the mercy of others. You run well for a
while, but a day of reckoning is almost sure to come. The thriftless,
hap-hazard way of bargaining or not bargaining, common among
literary people, is the fruitful parent of uneasiness, anxiety,
disappointment, and bitterness, before which delicacy must be
rudely and ruthlessly brushed.
It is the same with women as with men, for in literature as in the
gospel, there is neither male nor female. When a woman does any
work for which she receives money she becomes so far a man, and
passes immediately and inevitably under the yoke of trade. She has
no right to demand a favorable judgment of her work because she is
a woman, nor has she the least right to require that chivalry shall
come in to help fix or secure her compensation. Trade laws know no
more of gallantry than trade winds—and it is well they do not.
Individuals and societies wheedle and flatter and threaten and
torture according to the fashion, or passion, or panic of the hour, but
under it all, the great, pitiless, unseen, inexorable law of the world
holds from age to age, never relaxing its grasp, never revoking its
decree, deaf to the wail of weakness, dumb to the cry of despair,
forever and forever teaching with unrelenting persistency, by
unrelenting persistency, the good and wholesome lesson that will be
taught no other way. Under this law there is no sex, no chivalry, no
deference, no mercy. There is nothing but supply and demand;
nothing but buy and sell. To him who understands it, and guides
himself by it, it is a chariot of state bearing him on to fame and
fortune. To him who does not comprehend it and flings himself
against it, it is a car of Juggernaut, crushing him beneath its wheels,
without passion, but without pity.
 FOOTNOTES:
[1] The most casual observer will readily see
that this strain of remark can refer only to a far
distant past. If our age is remarkable for any one
thing, it is for a delicate reticence regarding what
is not lawfully, and by divine right, its own.—Note
by Editor.

[2] A circumstance which at once relegates this

story to the last century.—Note by Editor.

[3]Proof that this paper belongs to an age when

people had time to pronounce long words.—Ed.

[4] This was in reference to Mr. Hunt's repeated

injunctions that I should write only books.

[5] The editor cannot allow this sentiment to go

out into the world unchallenged. To him few things
are more marvelous than the amount of provender
which the ill-favored and lean-fleshed kine will
consume without giving any sign of feeding.
Poverty, or incapacity, which in this country is the
almost inseparable companion of permanent
poverty—poverty is a sort of Chatmoss into which
cart-loads of gravel may be upset without giving
any solid foundation to build on. Horace Greeley
was as true as the multiplication-table when he
said that people generally earn money as fast as
they have the ability to expend it judiciously.—Ed.

[6] A “Common” is a tract of ground which

belongs not to individuals but to the public.
Probably the bookstore referred to was on the
outskirts of the city, and the “Common” was the
land as yet unappropriated by builders, and on
which, doubtless, sheep and cows grazed
undisturbed.—Note by Editor.

[7] “The dickens!” is an exclamation of playful

surprise. Probably the word as here used, is a
corruption of this phrase, and was merely a strong
way of expressing, on Mr. Hunt's part, that he had
written no other letter at all. But after so great a
lapse of time it is impossible to get at the exact
truth.—Note by Editor.

[8] The Editor trusts that it is not necessary for

him to point out to his youthful readers that this
spirit is not presented to them for an example.

[9]Here the narrative seems to deviate into

prophecy.—Note by Ed.

[10]The editor considers this levity highly

unbecoming so solemn an occasion.

[11] I think this matter in detail came up

subsequently in connection with the diminished
price paid me for copyright, but as it belongs here
also, I put it in all at once.

[12] These letters do not appear in this

publication.

[13]The “jubilee house” seems to be a reference

to the institution of the jubilee year among the
Hebrews,—a year in which impoverished families
might redeem the property from which, at any
time during fifty years previous, they had been
forced to part. Thus we are told that if a man
purchased of the Levites, the house that was sold
should go out in the year of jubilee. Such a house
might long be known in the neighborhood as the
“jubilee house.” The hammering spoken of was
probably connected with the repairing of some
such lately redeemed house, and seems to point
to an Eastern origin and locality for this narrative.
—Note by Editor.
 Transcriber's Note.
Variable spelling and hyphenation have been retained. Minor
punctuation inconsistencies have been silently repaired.

Corrections.

The first line indicates the original, the second the correction.
p. 145:

Appropos to what?
Apropos to what?

p. 159:

Emeruit Danai;
Eruerint Danai;
Quanquam animus meminisse horret
Quamquam animus meminisse horret

p. 182:

Your book will keep, wont it?

Your book will keep, won't it?

p. 195:

to buy my my book!
to buy my book!

p. 278:

similtude of evil-minded
similitude of evil-minded

Footnote 8:

not presented to them for an ensample

not presented to them for an example
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