In the autumn of 1856, William Blackwood received from Lewes a short story bearing—­the title of “The Sad Fortunes of the Rev. Amos Barton,” which he sent as the work of an anonymous friend.  His nephew has described the results that followed on the reception of this novel by Blackwood, and its publication in Blackwood’s Magazine.  “The story was offered as the first instalment of a series; and though the editor pronounced that ‘Amos’ would ‘do,’ he wished to satisfy himself that it was no chance hit, and requested a sight of the other tales before coming to a decision.  Criticisms on the plot and studies of character in ‘Amos Barton’ were frankly put forward, and the editor wound up his letter by saying,’ If the author is a new writer, I beg to congratulate him on being worthy of the honors of print and pay.  I shall be very glad to hear from him or you soon.’  At this time the remaining Scenes of Clerical Life were unwritten, and the criticisms upon ‘Amos’ had rather a disheartening effect upon the author, which the editor hastened to remove as soon as he became sensible of them, by offering to accept the tale.  He wrote to Mr. Lewes, ’If you think it would stimulate the author to go on with the other tales, I shall publish ‘Amos’ at once;’ expressing also his ‘sanguineness’ that he would be able to approve of the contributions to follow, as ‘Amos’ gave indications of great freshness of style.  Some natural curiosity had been expressed as to the unknown writer, and a hint had been thrown out that he was ’a clergyman,’—­a device which, since it has the great sanction of Sir Walter Scott, we must regard as perfectly consistent with the ethics of anonymous literature.

“‘Amos Barton’ occupied the first place in the magazine for January, 1857, and was completed in the following number.  By that time ’Mr. Gilfil’s Love Story’ was ready, and the Scenes of Clerical Life appeared month by month, until they ended with ‘Janet’s Repentance’ in November of that year.  As fresh instalments of the manuscript were received, the editor’s conviction of the power, and even genius, of his new contributor steadily increased.  In his first letter to the author after the appearance of ’Amos Barton,’ he wrote, ’It is a long time since I have read anything so fresh, so humorous and so touching.  The style is capital, conveying so much in so few words.’  In another letter, addressed ‘My dear Amos,’ for lack of any more distinct appellation, the editor remarks, ’I forgot whether I told you or Lewes that I had shown part of the MS. to Thackeray.  He was staying with me, and having been out at dinner, came in about eleven o’clock, when I had just finished reading it.  I said to him, ’Do you know that I think I have lighted upon a new author who is uncommonly like a first-class passenger?’ I showed him a page or two—­I think the passage where the curate returns home and Milly is first introduced.  He would not pronounce whether it came up to my ideas, but remarked afterwards that he would have liked to have read more, which I thought a good sign.’