such familiar productions. No doubt he remembered every line and every word of the distinguished author, at least it was fair to presume so, but there are some who might not feel quite certain about every passage, and would not be ashamed to consult the volume he could dispense with. The organs of criticism swarm with just such prigs and pretenders, and the young author must be prepared to run the gauntlet through a double row of them. Happy for him if he can keep his temper, and profit by their rough handling; satisfy them he

never can.

In spite of the positive verdicts of the soundest criticism, we must not forget that each individual has always his right of peremptory challenge, his right to like or dislike, for the simple reason that he is what he is, and none other. The writer who attains a certain measure of popularity, so as to reach a cousiderable variety of readers, must be ready for a trial more dangerous than that running the gauntlet just spoken of. He will be startled to find himself the object of an embarrassing devotion, and almost appropriation, by some of his parish of readers. He will blush, at his lonely desk, as he reads the extravagances of expression which pour over him like the oil which ran down upon the beard of Aaron, and even down to the skirts of his garments, treme unction which seems hardly desirable. We ought to have his photograph as he reads one of those frequent missives, oftenest traced, we may guess, in the delicate slanting hand whice betrays the slender fingers of the sympathetic sisterhood. A slight sense of the ridiculous at being made so much of qualifies the placid tolerance with which. the rhymester or the essayist sees himself preferred to the great masters in prose and verse, and reads his name glowing in a halo of epithets which might belong to Bacon or Milton. We need not grudge him such pleasure as

an ex

he may derive from the illusion of a momentary revery, in which he dreams of himself as clad in royal robes and exalted among the immortals. The next post will very probably bring him some slip from a newspaper or critical journal, which will strip him of his regalia, as Thackeray, in one of his illustrations, has disrobed and denuded the Grand Monarque. He saw himself but a moment ago a colossal figure, in a drapery of rhetorical purple, ample enough for an emperor, as Bernini would clothe him. The image-breaker has passed by, belittling him by comparison, jostling him off his pedestal, levelling his most prominent feature, or even breaking a whole ink-bottle against him, as the indignant moralist did on the figure in the vestibule of the opera-house, the shortest and most effective satire that ever came from that fountain of approval and condemnation. Such are some of the varied experiences of authorship.

traces

To be known as a writer is to become public property. Every book a writer publishes say, rather, every line he - is an open sesame as good as a latch-key for some one; it may be some score, or hundreds, or thousands. The already recognized author, with whom his affinities may be more or less strong, takes his hand as a brother, after the public has accepted him, sometimes before. The unsuccessful authors, whose efforts find their natural habitat in the waste-baskets of the magazines and newspapers, seeing that he is afloat, struggle to the surface through the dark waves of oblivion, and grasp at him, in the vain hope that he can keep their heads, as well as his own, above water. The hitherto undiscovered twentieth cousin starts up in the huckleberry bushes, and claims him as a relative. That citizen of the world, the borrower whose remittances have failed to reach him, is at hand to share the good fortune of his literary friend, whose works, as he says, have been his travel

ling companions from China to Peru. The poet with his manuscript, the reader with his larynx, invade his premises, and he must read and listen, perhaps to his own verses, until

He back recoils, he knows not why,
E'en at the lines himself has made.

Rejoice, O man of many editions! You have sold your books, - yes, and you have sold your time, your privacy, your right hand, if that is the one you hold your pen in, and a slice of your immortal soul with it! For if you do not sooner or later explode in all the maledictions of Ernulphus and Athanasius, you are gifted with a patience that Job the all-enduring might have envied.

There is one more trial which touches the finest sensibilities of an author. The reader who has adopted him as his favorite, or his object of admiration, has formed an ideal of his person, his expression, his voice, his manner. How rarely does an author correspond to this ideal picture! How often is the visitor who has made a pilgrimage to the shrine of his demigod disappointed, disenchanted, and sent off regretting that he has exchanged his false image for the real presence! Let every pilgrim on his way to his idol's temple read Miss Edgeworth's "Angelina, or L'Amie Inconnue."

Now as to all these troubles of authorship, there are two ways of dealing with them. An author has a perfect right to say, "I am not on exhibition, like the fat boy or the double-headed lady. If I were, I should charge the usual price for admission to the show. It is not my profession to write letters to strangers, who consult me on all manner of questions involving their private interests. If it were, I should keep an office and one or more secretaries to help me attend to the wants of applicants, and I should expect the fees of a lawyer or a physician. I will not be in

terviewed' by persons of whom I know nothing. I will not answer letters from all parts of the country and far-off lands, from those who have no personal claim upon me. These people have no right to invade my premises, and appropriate my hours of labor, and I will have my rights, even if I am an author."

This is one way of looking at the question, and I am by no means sure that, hard and almost churlish as it seems, it is not, on the whole, the wisest for all concerned. Sooner or later the burden of correspondence becomes so heavy as to be insupportable, unless some short and easy method can be found of dealing with epistolary aggressions; such, for instance, as a printed formula, or a number of such formulæ, which the author can sign by the dozen, and which will in the large majority of cases answer every purpose. This is the plan Willis adopted and announced, long ago. He had the name of being very kind to his correspondents, but he found their exactions were wearing him out, an experience which others have had since his time. One of our most recent foreign visitors, a very distinguished person, told me that he made use of a lithographed form of answer to his correspondents.

It must not be forgotten, on the other hand, that all human beings have a certain claim on each other. The writer who has attained success owes something to those who are struggling to attain it. It is perfectly true that the greatest number of young persons who write to noted authors are entirely destitute of any exceptional talent which gives them a claim to be encouraged to devote themselves to literary pursuits. Still, they are fellow-creatures, and if Nature has denied them the gifts which they fondly believe themselves to possess, they are entitled, not to our scorn and ridicule, but to our tender consideration. We never laugh at the idiot, but we are too ready to make sport of the weakling. On the whole, it is bet

ter to handle a feeble literary aspirant gently, and let him print his little book, - for that is the natural crisis of his complaint. Let him, did I say? The powers of the universe could not prevent him from doing it. He asks your advice, and all the time he has his proof sheets in his desk or his pocket. And it must never be forgotten that in the midst of the weeds of vanity and folly, at any time, in some unexpected way, in the place where you never thought of looking for it, may spring up the shoot which will flower by and by as genius. Fortunately, as a general rule, mediocrity betrays itself in the first line or the first sentence of its manifesto. The aspiring author expects his successful elder brother to read a dozen of his poems, or the whole of his story; he does not remember, if he knows, that ex linea Bavium is as true as ex pede Herculem.

Between the author's just right to his time and the claims which a kind heart makes it impossible not to listen to, many writers who have gained the ear of the public, and who pass for amiable and well-disposed persons, in this country, as doubtless in others, have found themselves not a little perplexed. The late meeting of those interested in the subject, of which many of our readers may not have heard, seems to have adjusted these conflicting interests in a manner which, it may be hoped, will prove satisfactory to all concerned. It only remains to carry out the provisions which, after long deliberation, were unanimously agreed upon as expressing the sense of the meeting. Some extracts from the minutes of the proceedings have been put in my hands by the secretary, and are here reproduced, being now printed for the first time. It is hoped that they will be generally read by the two classes of persons to whom their provisions more especially apply, namely, authors and their visitors and correspondents.

Abstract of the Record of Proceedings of The Association of Authors for SelfProtection, at a Meeting held at Washington, September 31, 1882.

PREAMBLE.

Whereas there is prevalent in the community an opinion that he or she who has written and published a book belongs thenceforward to everybody but himself or herself, and may be called upon by any person for any gratuitous service for which he or she is wanted; and Whereas we believe that some rights do still remain to authors (meaning by that term writers of both sexes), notwithstanding the fact of such writing and publication; and Whereas we have found it impossible to make a stand in our individual capacity against the various forms of tyranny which have grown out of the opinion above mentioned, we do hereby unite and constitute ourselves a joint body for the purpose and by the title above named.

OF THE PROPERTY OF AUTHORS.

This does not consist, for the most part, of what is called real, or of what is called personal, estate, but lies chiefly in that immaterial and intangible possession known in its general expression as time, or in special portions, as days, hours, minutes, and seconds. If the author is fortunate enough to own the piece of mechanism commonly called a clock, his timepiece will be found to mark and measure sixty seconds to the minute, sixty minutes to the hour, and twenty-four hours to the day, and no more, like the timepieces of other owners; which fact is contrary to the apparent belief of many of his visitors and correspondents.

OF THE PERSONS OF AUTHORS. It is not to be considered that authorship entirely changes the author to a being of a different nature. He or she

is entitled to the common kind of consideration which belongs to humanity in general. Bodily defects and infirmities. are not fit subjects for public comment, especially in the case of women, to whom the spretæ injuria formæ is an unforgivable offence. And so of all the ordinary decencies of life; the author is to be considered as having the same rights as the general public.

OF VISITS OF STRANGERS TO AUTHORS.

Visits of Curiosity or Admiration. These are not always distinguishable from each other, and may be considered together. The stranger should send up his card, if he has one; if he has none, he should, if admitted, at once announce himself and his object, without circumlocution, as thus: "My name is M. or N. from X. or Y. I wish to sec and take the hand of a writer whom I have long admired for his," etc., etc. Here the Author should extend his hand, and reply in substance as follows: "I am pleased to see you, my dear sir, and very glad that anything I have written has been a source of pleasure or profit to you." The visitor has now had what he says he came for, and, after making a brief polite acknowledgment, should retire, unless, for special reasons, he is urged to stay longer.

Visits of Interviewers. The interviewer is a product of over-civilization, who does for the living what the undertaker does for the dead, taking such liberties as he chooses with the subject of his mental and conversational manipulations, whom he is to arrange for public inspection. The interview system has its legitimate use; is often a convenience to politicians, and may even gratify the vanity and serve the interests of an author. In its abuse it is an infringement of the liberty of the private citizen, to be ranked with the edicts of the Council of Ten, the Decrees of the Star-Chamber, the Lettres de Cachet, and the visits of the Inquisition. The

Interviewer, if excluded, becomes an enemy, and has the columns of a newspaper at his service, in which to revenge himself. If admitted, the Interviewed is at the mercy of the Interviewer's memory, if he is the best meaning of men; of his inaccuracy, if he is careless; of his malevolence if he is ill-disposed; of his prejudices, if he has any; and of his sense of propriety, at any rate.

In consideration of the possible abuses arising from the privilege granted to, or rather usurped by, the irresponsible individuals who exercise the function of domiciliary inspection, it is proposed to place the whole business under legal restrictions, in accordance with the plan here sketched for consideration, and about to be submitted to the judgment of all our local governments.

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- A licensed corps of Interviewers, to be appointed by the municipal authorities. Each Interviewer to wear in a conspicuous position a Number and a Badge, for which the following emblems and inscriptions are suggested: Zephyrus with his lips at the ear of Boreas, who holds a speaking-trumpet; signifying that what is said by the Interviewed in a whisper will be shouted to the world by the Interviewer through that brazen instrument. For mottoes, either of the following: Fænum habet in cornu; Hunc tu, Romane, caveto. person to be admitted to the Corps of Interviewers without a strict preliminary examination. The candidate to be proved free from color-blindness and amblyopia, ocular and mental strabismus, double refraction of memory, kleptomania, mendacity of more than average dimensions, and tendency to alcoholic endosmosis. His moral and religious character to be vouched for by three orthodox clergymen of the same belief, and as many deacons who agree with them and with each other. All reports to be submitted to the Interviewed, and the proofs thereof to be

Every correspondent applying for an autograph should send a card or blank paper, in a stamped envelope directed to himself (or herself). If he will not take the trouble to attend to all this, which he can just as well do as make the author do it, he must not expect the author to make good his deficiencies. [Accepted by acclamation.]

-Sending a stamp does not constitute a claim on an author for an answer. [Received with loud applause.] The stamp may be retained by the author, or, what is better, devoted to the use of some appropriate charity, as, for instance, the Asylum for Idiots and Feeble-Minded Persons.

These pictures cost money, and it may not be convenient to an impecunious celebrity to furnish them to the applicants, who are becoming singularly

Letters of Admiration. These may be accepted as genuine, unless they contain specimens of the writer's own composition, upon which a critical opinion is requested, in which case they are to be regarded in the same light as medicated sweetmeats: namely, as meaning more than their looks imply. Genuine letters of admiration, being usually considered by the recipient as proofs of good taste and sound judgment on the part of his unknown correspondent, may be safely left to his decision as to whether they shall be answered or not.

Questioning Letters. These are commonly fraudulent in their nature, their true intent being to obtain an autograph letter in reply. They should be answered, if at all, by a clerk or secretary; which will be satisfactory to the corre