author, and the monopoly charges of the English and American publishers, and it will be found quite easy to obtain a further sum of five millions, which, added to that already obtained, would make twelve millions per annum, or enough to give to one in every four thousand males in the United Kingdom, between the ages of twenty and sixty, a salary far exceeding that of our Secretaries of State.  Let this treaty be confirmed, and let the consumption of foreign works continue at its present rate, and payment of this sum must be made.  We can escape its payment only on condition of foregoing consumption of the books.

The real cause of difficulty is not to be found in “the few cents” required for the author, but in the means required to be adopted for their collection.  Everybody that reads “Bleak House,” or “Oliver Twist,” would gladly pay their author some cents, however unwilling he might be to pay dollars, or pounds.  So, too, everybody who uses chloroform would willingly pay something to its discoverer; and every one who believes in and profits by homeopathic medicines would be pleased to contribute “a few cents” for the benefit of Hahnemann, his widow, or his children.  A single cent paid by all who travel on steam vessels would make the family of Fulton one of the richest in the world; but how collect these “few cents”?  Grant me a monopoly, says the author, and I will appoint an agent, who shall supply other agents with my books, and I will settle with him.  Grant us a monopoly, say the representatives of Hahnemann, and we will grant licenses, throughout the Union, to numerous men who shall be authorized to practice homeopathically and collect our taxes.  Were this experiment tried, it would be found that millions would be collected, out of which they would receive tens of thousands.  Grant us a monopoly, might say the representatives of Fulton, and we will permit no vessels to be built without license from us, and our agents will collect “a few cents” from each passenger, by which we shall be enriched.  So they might be; but for every cent that reached them the community would be taxed dollars in loss of time and comfort, and in extra charges.  It is the monopoly privilege, and not the “few cents,” that makes the difficulty.

We are, however, advised by the advocates of this treaty that English authors must be “required” to present their books in American “mode and dress,” and that regard to their own interests will cause them to be presented “at MODERATE PRICES for general consumption.”  If, however, they have acted differently at home, why should they pursue this course here?  That they have so acted, we have proof in the fact that the British government has just been forced to turn bookseller, with a view to restrain the owners of copyrights in the exercise of power.  Who, again, is to determine what prices are really “moderate” ones?  The authors?  Will Mr. Macaulay consent that his books shall be sold for less than those of Mr. Bancroft or Mr. Prescott?