Literature and Life

ok the blue pencil with a smile, and bowed gladly to the rod of the proof-reader. Those who were on the alert for offence, who resented a marginal note as a sli

ence, but he must not forget that the editor is the beginning of the public; and I

de up of volunteer contributions in much greater measure than they are now. At present most of the material is invited and even engaged; it is arranged

hing undone that shall enhance his small chances of acceptance. If he takes care to be so good that the editor must accept him in spite of all the pressure upon his pages, he will not only be serving-himself best, but may be helping the editor to a conception of his duty that shall

attempt it without this, but apparently a great many do. It is evident to every editor that a vast number

y will chance that among a number of other things. The ignorance of technique which they often show is not nearly so disheartening as t

puts pen to paper, to ask himself why he does so, and, if he f

y? Do I imagine it clearly? The young contributor had better ask himself all these questions, an

may at once put aside all anxiety about style; that is a thing that will take care of itself; it wil

of manner, borrowed from this author and that. He will fancy that in this disguise his work will be more literary, and that there is somehow a quality, a grace, imparted to it which

is in the best possible case to say it well. Still, from time to time he may advant

ve him aim to say it barely or sparely. It is not so that people talk, who talk well, and

practice a kind of quackery almost as offensive as the charlatan

ll always please others, but that unless you please yourself you will please no one else. It is the sweet and sacred privilege of work done artistically t

acting, architecture, if you do not do your best by them, turn to drudgery sore as digging ditches, hewing wood, or draw

y infallible whether it is good or not, from his own experience in doing it. Did it give him pleasure? Did he love it as

, every-day experience, and I think nearly every artist will s

e else will delight in it. But he need not give it up at once; perhaps his mood is bad; let him wait for a better, and try

new formulas, which will not serve again for another. You must apprentice yourself afresh at every fresh undertaking, and

gn power that smooths the path of all obstacles. The combinations in art are infinite, and almost never the sa