light. But clever as the imitation may be, it is but a superior sort of mimicry; and, although those who desire to follow in the steps of our great English authors cannot have their minds too well stored with English literature, they can never hope to gain for themselves any worthy distinction if they are only echoes, however faithful, of other men's words.

The writer who has overcome the faults and failures which belong to inexperience, and who has succeeded in producing really marketable work, must not give up the hope of ultimate success, even though continual rejection be for some time his fate. At this stage of his career, he must be content to wait and exercise patience, sending his contributions to magazine after magazine, till at length he is rewarded by receiving the first packet of proofs, whose coming gives such a thrill of delight, and so fully consoles him for all his disappointments, and rewards him for all his perseverance.

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This time of probation, indeed, is part of the training needful for the profession of letters. In it the beginner may learn by his failures how his talents may best be used. He may of course pass through the stage described by Campbell, who, when writing The Pleasures of Hope in a gloomy lodging-house, was suddenly seized by a fear that the poem "born and nursed through many an anxious day," might not succeed. Suppose," he writes to a friend, that the public should find out, as I did this morning, that the thing is neither more nor less than trash; would not the author's predicament be ten times worse than if he had never written a line?" And such cold fits as this, alternating with the warm and hopeful enthusiasm of young and untried authors, are by no means bad for them in the end. They serve in some measure to prepare one for disappointments, such as have at first been the portion of some of our best writers.

One final practical suggestion. It is advisable that an author should preserve a copy, or at all events the rough draft, of an article that he has sent on chance of acceptance. For one thing, it is within the bounds.

of possibility that the copy sent may go astray or get lost. It is, further, not improbable that the editor to whom it has been sent may keep it by him unused for what seems to the author an unconscionable time; and it may seem desirable to try its luck in another quarter. In case the author should decide to send it to another editor, he ought to take the precaution of informing the first editor that, unless the article be used by him within a specified time, it will be despatched elsewhere. This will prevent mistakes. But such a course should not be resolved on too hastily. It must be remembered that even eligible contributions must wait their turn or suitable season, and that the editor's space is strictly limited.

AUTHOR AND PUBLISHER.

An interesting chapter might well be made from that portion of literary history, which relates to the vicissitudes of famous manuscripts, their early rejection and final triumph; and in these records the still unsuccessful but hopeful author would find abundant encouragement. There is not space for us here to do more than remind the reader of how Cowper's first work was received as "little better than a dull sermon," and described as 66 displaying only that mediocrity which neither gods nor men can tolerate "—and how poor Goldsmith, in spite of his "knack at hoping," suffered the mortification of finding that his publisher lacked courage to bring out the Vicar of Wakefield, and kept its author for two weary years on the rack of uncertainty as to the fate of one of the most exquisite works in our language. Jane Austen had the same experience; for the Bath bookseller who gave her £10 for Northanger Abbey, preferred losing the money to running the risk of publishing the work, which lay neglected on his shelves for years. James and Horace Smith found considerable difficulty in getting any publisher to bring out Rejected Addresses; for even Mr. Murray, distinguished as he was for his quickness

in gauging the powers, and forecasting the popularity of new writers, refused the manuscript at £20, although he had to pay £130 for the copyright of the same work after it had run through fifteen editions, and gained for the authors over a thousand pounds. Crabbe could find no publisher for his powerful poem The Library, till Burke prevailed on Dodsley to bring it out. Rogers had almost equal difficulty with his first work, and was fond of seizing any opportunity of telling his brilliant guests of later years how despondent he was becoming when only twenty copies of it had been sold in four years, and how his distress at his failure was relieved by finding himself praised in some obscure review as "an able man." He was fond of displaying that first cherished review to the end of his days, and of describing the sense of intoxicating delight he felt on seeing his first printed book.

Instances such as these might be multiplied almost indefinitely. But whilst it is well for the young author to console himself with the thought that the British publisher sometimes errs in judgment, it is also well for him to realize that his special mission is not that of patronizing all literary adventurers. "For those who have no merit, it is but fit that they should remain in obscurity," says Goldsmith, who, when he found his genius recognized, withdrew all the bitter things he had once said of the unfairness of publishers to authors. He had suffered so keenly from poverty and hope deferred whilst his book lay neglected on Newbery's shelves, that some strong words of complaint might well be pardoned; but as soon as better days dawned for him he forgot his grievances, and was proud to say, "The booksellers are my patrons, and I want no others."

Innumerable are the instances on record of the generosity of publishers to authors; but we will only refer to the remarkable confidence which Cottle of Bristol placed in Coleridge and Southey. In their early difficulties, he paid them for their unwritten poems, and, on seeing the surprise and joy his offer

caused," he raised his generous payment by £10. His friendship for them never changed, though Coleridge sometimes tried it severely. The real point is that the relations between the author and the editor or publisher for whom he writes, are distinctly and purely relations of business; and the cultivation of what are known as business habits will materially assist those who mean to disregard Coleridge's earnest advice-" Do not attempt to live by literature."

Without making the venture of an independent work, no author's position can be fully established, nor his name widely known. Fortunately in our day there is little risk of failure, provided the writer's work is really worthy of success, and written in a readable style on a popular subject. There are numerous well-known publishers whose names are in themselves a strong recommendation of any work they bring out, who are at all times ready to secure good work, and to give a good price for it. By good work is to be understood such work as appears to them of sufficient merit to ensure a reasonably good sale. But, as in the case of unknown authors, the risk of failure is considerable, the price given for a first work cannot be so high as what the publisher can offer when he knows the popularity of a writer, and can calculate the success of any work that bears his name. Such calculations,

however, even in the cases of the most famous authors, must always be uncertain, as we see from the interesting details given by Forster in his Life of Charles Dickens, and by Trollope in his Autobiography.

The system of "half-profits is very common. In cases where the publisher sees the probability of a fair success, he may agree to undertake all the expenses of publication, and to divide the profits (if any) with the author. The publisher finds all the money, takes all the risk, and manages the publication in every respect as he chooses (in reasonable consultation with the author); while the author hands over his MSS. to the publisher, and simply waits for the doubtful day of remuneration.

Any bargain may be entered into as between author and publisher, either for the whole copyright absolutely, or merely for a single edition. It may often be advisable to limit the first agreement to the disposal of the first edition. The sale of this may give some indication of circumstances that will lead to a fairer agrcement for future issues.

As the expenses of publishing must be incurred before the verdict of the critical public can be known, any writer who is in a position to guarantee the cost of printing, paper, advertising, and other expenses, and thus diminish the publisher's risk by sharing it, will have no difficulty whatever in bringing out his work.

Another way of securing a certain amount of success is to give the work into the charge of one of those publishers—of whom there are several—who undertake to bring out works by hitherto unknown authors, and to obtain the services of some competent literary man, who will revise and edit the manuscript, perhaps lending the weight of his well-known name as editor, and thus securing for the book a wide enough circulation to recoup the publisher for his outlay. If the book thus issued bears a taking title, and is well written, it can scarcely fail to attain some success, owing to the prestige of the editor's and publisher's names. A second work by the same author may be fairly trusted to make its own way and pay its expenses without such aid.

Specialists in literature, whose works are certain of success, are in the habit of dealing with their printers at first hand, and of superintending for themselves the whole process of getting the book through the press. After the printing is over they find a publisher to introduce it to the public; and as every special branch of literature has one or more representative publishers, they, of course, choose the name most eminent in the publishing world in connexion with the particular subject treated on. There are educational, medical, and scientific publishers; some whose names represent breadth of religious thought, and others who confine