A YOUNG man of talents, or education, or both, upon coming to London, is very apt to turn his eyes to the periodical press, from a pecuniary or an ambitious motive. It is indeed a happy circumstance that in this kingdom, genius and literary industry have a ready mart for their products; the friendless, the obscure, and the indigent youth, may acquire friends (i. e. friends good enough for all practical purposes, I speak not of Pyladeans), may spurn the low grounds of obscurity, and rise from indigence to independence, by the labours of that little, that inestimable little instrument-a gray goose quill. He who, by the sweet influence of his birth-star, has a motive merely intellectual, who by the merit, or iniquity, or good-fortune of his ancestors, is placed above these sublunary considerations, he to whom a love of fame,

The last infirmity of noble minds, is the sole (O happy, happy he!) incentive, may attain the object of his pursuit, even by so light and simple a thing as a feather. To such, the pueri ingenuique et nobiles, I address myself,-especially to the former class; first, because I have a fellow-feeling for that class in particular, and second, because the other class is in some measure independent of the press, though perhaps equally anxious to be connected with it. As an Essayist, I have had myself some experience; probably more than is usual even with those of the same profession, having been some years since a supervisor also of Essays,-in fact an Editor. I am thus not ill-qualified to give advice upon the subject, and moreover feel a brother's wish to assist, as far as is in my limited power, those who are now, what I once was,—a wanderer, a stranger in this populous wilderness, an involuntary anchorite in this huge solitude of houses. I would premise, how ever, that I am not about proposing a Recipe for the composition of an Essay; the following observations have nothing to do with the material of essay-writing, but presuppose its MAY, 1824.

existence in the mind or the memory of the novice. My counsel merely regards a few mechanical things, which, being observed, would facilitate the progress of the Essayist. If he be endowed with surpassing genius, or enriched with superior learning, he may with some reason despise the advice I offer; but before he does so, let him be morally certain that he has one at least of the above qualifications.

Perhaps it will be a more impressive method to give my reader some hints of how I proceeded myself, upon first tumbling in upon this living mass of society, like a drop of rain from the maternal bosom of its cloud, into the boundless and indifferent ocean.

I emanated in the year 18.. from the learned ignorance of the university of , and came to London, without the knowledge and against the probable wish of my friends. Here I had not one; not even an acquaintance upon whose advice or assistance I could rely. Perhaps there never was a human being, worthy the name of a reasonable creature, less fitted than I by nature to contend with the world. Altogether ignorant of men and manners; of most unprepossessing phrase and address, by reason of a natural defect, which still attests the weighty arm of Destiny, crushing me with malignant inveteracy when I attempt to soar,nay making me a very laughingstock to the ignorant, and a painful theme of pity to the wise, when I am exposed to the one, or introduced to the other; of scrupulous and slowlyopening faculties moreover, upon which a subject dawns long, long before the full mental daylight clothes it in perfect brightness;-these, and many other circumstances which I omit to mention, rendered me peculiarly unfit to buffet my way through the sturdy ranks which block up the road to preferment. When I mention these particulars, it is merely to show that perseverance and the exercise of a little judgment will enable a man to overcome more obstacles than I hope present themselves to 2 K

any whom I am now specifically addressing.

Before this journey, I had seldom used my pen, though I had some inward presentiments that if ever the necessity came, I could use it; the sweet, small voice of Vanity, I suppose, whispered this in my ear. Upon reaching London, another young man, of more confidence in his own powers, would have immediately sprung at a Magazine or Review; nor do I condemn such a procedure -it may suit with some tempers, though it does not with mine. I made my first Essay in an humble, but respectable weekly periodical, as a gratuitous contributor; my papers were inserted, and my labours encouraged by salutary praise. Thanks, however, and even praises, were poorer diet than the chameleon's, for they were not as substantial as air, being given in print. I sent a Tale, something of the romantic kind, to a Magazine; it was refused. I sent another to another; this also was returned with a complimentary letter, -the thoughts were too refined, the subject too abstract, in other respects it was &c. &c. Three or four successive papers met with the same (I have no doubt, meritorious) fate. In a kind of hysterical fit of despair, I wrote a humorous letter of reproach to the Editor.

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The difficulty, under my circumstances (and the reader will recollect that they were almost terrific-for having quitted my family, pride forbade return), the difficulty of bending up my spirits to a feat of jocularity was, as may well be supposed, tremendous: I did it however, with Macbeth's " fatal vision" flitting before my eyes, and its point turned against my own breast. I did it, however. My letter was answered cautiously (for I believe the circumstances under which it was written had tinged it with something bordering on wildness), but upon the whole very favourably. To this reed I clung.

I had now another chance, and resolved not to throw it away: the bird that dwells amid the shades of Parnassus, like the Dove of the Ark, had brought me a hope-branch, and from that moment I knew that I should not die. I now began to consider

and here I would beg the young Essayist's most serious attention that as yet, in all my attempts at composition, I had written, knowingly and premeditately, what could not live beyond the day. I had aspired merely to equal the general run of essays which I read promiscuously; never reflecting that I had a character to make; never reflecting that I had to fight up against the illegibility of written-hand, and the unwillingness of an Editor to give himself the trouble of decyphering what probably would not repay him in pleasure. I determined to write something which, (to compare small things with great) as Milton says, "the world should not willingly let die." I pursued my determination inflexibly; though in considerable embarrassments, delayed my piece till it was finished to my satisfaction (as far as an insatiable desire of perfection is satisfiable); and succeeded to my wishes. From a review of all these circumstances the first point of my advice is this:

that the incipient Essayist should write with a view to immortality; he should write, not as if he merely wished his piece to be so good that it might procure him a few guineas and an engagement, but so good that it may be remembered with applause after he himself in his mortal form is trampled in the dust and mingled with the dishonourable clay of sordid worldlings. I do not mean to say that he will attain this immortality; but unless he writes with a view to it, it is ten to one that his piece will never succeed. Editors are generally men of reading and talent themselves; they are accustomed to meet with fine writing in print, good writing is a common drug to them. Hence, a written contribution, merely equal to what they find in print every day, will appear much worse, and be accordingly rejected.

Secondly: I made the life-anddeath paper which I spoke of above, as short as I possibly could. Let the probationer attend to this: I can assure him from my own experience, and from that of others who have exercised similar editorial functions,

that a long contribution almost damns itself. In the first place, amongst the accumulated variety of shorter pieces which crowd an Edi

tor's table, the longer are inevitably postponed to the very latest and most weary perusal. For who would subject himself willingly to the task of reading half a dozen letter-paper sheets of Milton or Shakspeare in English hieroglyphic? And if he did read them, would not the task be very irksome, and the merits be seen, as through a glass, very darkly? What then must be the case, with a writer of this degenerate age, a petty contributor of the modern size of mind! The paper above-mentioned occupied but three pages of print. And another consideration should be, that lengthy diatribes are incompatible with the limited dimensions of a Magazine.

Thirdly: I wrote the said paper in as plain and legible a character as my pen could delineate,-on ruled paper, without blot, blemish, or error. I carefully erased every mistaken word with a penknife, and wrote its substitute with a finely-nibbed pen, so as that the whole should read fluently. There are some persons who cannot write well, either from habitual carelessness, want of past instruction, or natural defect of eye and mechanical power. Such persons I would strongly advise to have their pieces copied out by a capable friend, or (if such is not to be had) by a regular scribe. It affects an Editor with a sensation of ineffable disgust, when he opens an

unsightly, unreadable scrawl-not to speak of the real difficulty of collecting the sense and estimating the quantity of genius therein contained. Let the Essayist also fold up his letter and communication neatly, but not coxcombically; and let it have the show of a gentlemanly and elegant correspondence. The Essayist may assure himself there is more in this, trifling as it may seem, than can well be described. I should not recommend it to his notice, were I not aware from experience of its neces sity. Nor let any one say-" Who would be determined by such mechanical merits?"-Probably no one, at least no man of sense. But though he may not be determined, he may be inclined, one way or the other, by their presence or absence. I ask the objector

-Does not a well-printed book induce him to examine it, and an illprinted one discourage him, unless before-hand he knows that the former is worthless, and the latter valuable? Besides, is not a gentlemanly style of communication some proof of a cultivated mind? Is it not presumable that he who writes like a man of breeding thinks like a man of education? If illegible neatness be the fault of imbecility, slovenly plainness is the effect of vulgarity. Let both be avoided, but the former especially.

presume) very frequently, and marching accurately not being wholly de pendant on music,-it appears to us that a practice, which tends to throw an air of fanciful trifling over the excellent good sense of the system in other respects, would be better omitted. Division into classes again, though insisted on by the Experiment alist (see p. 290-291) in a way which would lead us to suppose it a novelty in his own neighbourhood, is next to universal in England; and in all the great grammar schools has been established for ages. All that distinguishes this arrangement in his use of it is this, that the classes are variable: that is, the school forms by different combinations according to the subject of study; the boys, who study Greek together, are not the same who study arithmetic together. Dismissing therefore these two arrangements as either not characteristic or not laudably characteristic, we shall make a brief exposition of the others. 1. Economy of Time:"We have been startled at the reflection" (says the Experimentalist)that if, by a faulty arrangement one minute be lost to sixty of our boys, the injury sustained would be equal to the waste of an hour by a single individual." Hence, as the Experimentalist justly argues, the use of classes; by means of which ten minutes spent by the tutor in explaining a difficult point to a class of ten boys become equal to 100 minutes distributed amongst them severally. Great improvement in the economising of time was on this system derived from exacting" an almost superstitious punctuality" of the monitor, whose duty it is to summon the school to all its changes of employment by ringing a bell. It is worthy of notice, but to us not at all surprising, that—“when the duty of the monitor was easy, and he had time for play, the exact moment for ringing the bell was but seldom observed: but when, as the system grew more complex, he was more constantly in requisition, it was found that with increased labour came increased perfection: and the same boy who had complained of the difficulty of being punctual when he had to ring the bell only ten times in the day, found his duty comparatively easy when his memory was

taxed to a four-fold amount. It is amusing to see what a living timepiece the giddiest boy will become during his week of office. The succession of monitors gradually infuses a habit, and somewhat of a love of punctuality, into the body scholastic itself. The masters also cannot think of being absent when the scholars are waiting for them: and thus the nominal and the real hours of attendance become exactly the same.' 2. Motives to Exertion. "After furnishing the pupil with the opportunity of spending his time to the greatest advantage, our next case was to examine how we had supplied him with motives" for so spending it (p. 92). These are ranged under five heads, "Love of knowledge-love of employment-emulation-hope of reward-and fear of punishment,"and according to what the Experimentalist rightly thinks "their order of excellence." The three last, he alleges, are stimuli; and of necessity lose their power by constant use. Love of employment, though a more durable motive, leaves the pupil open to the attractions of any other employment that may chance to offer itself in competition with knowledge. Love of knowledge for its own sake therefore is the main spring relied on; insomuch that the Experimentalist gives it as his opinion (p. 96) that if it were possible for the pupil to acquire a love of knowledge, and that only during the time he remained at school, he would have done more towards insuring a stock of knowledge in maturer age than if he had been the recipient of as much learning as ever was infused into the passive school-boy" by any means which fell short of generating such a principle of exertion. We heartily agree with him: and we are further of opinion that this love needs not to be generated as an independent birth previously to our commencing the labour of tuition, but that every system of tuition in proportion as it approaches to a good one will inevitably involve the generation of this love of knowledge concurrently with the generation of knowledge itself. Most melancholy are the cases which have come under our immediate notice of good faculties wholly lost to their possessor and an incurable disgust