grasping the other eagerly by the hand, as he met him a few days ago in Regent Street;

66

'Clayton, my dear fellow, that was a most

atrocious notice of your new work in the last number of 'The Inspector.""

Why, it was rather, certainly."

"What in the name of wonder could Swallow have meant? He has never served you so before."

"No, certainly not; I must do him at least that justice."

"Surely there must be something private at the bottom of this abominable review."

"You're quite right, Ransom; there is." "So, then, you've had some private quarrel." "Oh, no, nothing of the kind; a mere oversight on my part. I have another work on the eve of its appearance; it will be all set right again, whenever it is brought out."

"I don't understand you," remarked Ransom. "Can I depend on your keeping a secret, if I let you into one?"

"You'll never give the slightest hint about what I am going to mention."

"Never; I give you my solemn promise." "Then the whole secret of this vile review of my book is, that I did not ask Swallow to dinner on its publication."

"Are you serious?" inquired Ransom, amazed at what he had heard.

"Can it be possible that a person who has the control of the review department of such a journal as 'The Inspector,' could be influenced in his criticism by such unworthy, such thoroughly contemptible considerations?"

"The fact is as I have stated. I know it," answered Clayton.

"And do you really believe that Swallow can be so utterly lost to all sense of self-respect, so totally regardless of consistency, that by in

viting him to a 'feed' immediately before your next work appears, you can insure a most complimentary notice of it?"

"I am certain of it. And what is more, not a favourable notice of the new work only, but a virtual recantation of all the abuse he has heaped on myself and my present work, by the unqualified panegyrics he will then lavish on me as a literary man."

"I confess I shall wait with some impatience the publication of your next work. When will it be out?"

"In five or six weeks."

Six weeks elapsed, and the work made its appearance. On the day of its publication, Swallow, with several other literary men, partook of a sumptuous dinner in Mr. Clayton's cottage at Old Brompton. On the Sunday following, "The Inspector" devoted five of its columns to a review of the new work, which was eulogised to the echo; and Mr. Clayton himself, who but two months before had been

represented as an author whose productions were discreditable to modern literature, was now held up as one of the most philosophic, elegant, and able writers of the day.

MR. SHEPHERD's test of literary merit is, the success, or otherwise, of an author's works. He has never yet known a successful author who was not a man of extraordinary genius. On the other hand, he never could discern the slightest traces of talent where the author was obscure.

The

pages of his "Literary Miscellany" never yet contained a word of encouragement to a struggling author; neither, on the other hand, is an instance on record, during the fifteen years he has been a weekly reviewer, in which he has omitted to bestow the most fulsome adulation on authors of celebrity. When a new author appears in the literary vineyard, he maintains an unbroken silence as to his merits, until he sees the tide of popularity setting in either in his favour, or against him. If the former, the panegyrics which Mr. Shepherd heaps upon

him are nauseating from their extravagance; but, if the probability be that the author is to be unsuccessful, "The Literary Miscellany" will always be found among the first and most frequent in its efforts to consign the poor fellow to the depths of obscurity. The jackass had a kick to bestow on the dead lion.

MR. JACKSON, the editor of the literary department of "The Mercury," has a mode of reviewing which differs from each and all of the modes to which we have been referring. He praises all the books, if they possess any considerable marketable value, which are forwarded to him. Aware, however, that, if praise were uniform and constant, it would lose much of its worth, and he himself be charged with being deficient in the critical quality of discrimination, he systematically denounces and abuses all the works which are not transmitted to the office of "The Mercury." Of course it is not necessary to read a work before abusing it. Mr. Jackson takes the title of the book from