as ever was written, of Mr. Stockton’s “Mrs. Null,” and generally of all that is freshest and most notable in biography, fiction, and history.  A few of the peaches of the best quality there are, but the rest are fruit less valued, are, in fact, amateur novels.  There are two sets of three gaudy novels by unheard-of ladies; and perhaps three shilling novels, with such titles as “Who Did It?” “Chopped in Cover,” or “Under a Cloud,” none of which names we trust are copyright.  A similar phenomenon presents itself at the bookstalls, which are choked with cheap and unenticing brief tales of the deadly sins.  And whose fault is it that we do not get the good books and are flooded with the bad books?  Why, it is the fault of the ambitious amateur, of the ladies and gentlemen who publish at their own risk, and at the cost of the world of readers and professional writers.

This is, with a few remarkable limitations, a free country.  No law exists which says to publishers, “Thou shalt not publish on commission.”  No law confines the vagaries of amateur romance.  Hence the market is choked, and the circulating libraries are overwhelmed with rubbish, and good books, as the Americans of the West say, “get no show.”  The debauched novel reader, to whom every story is a story, and one no better nor worse than another, may not heed it, but the judicious grieve, and the artist in fiction returns a smaller income tax.  Then the very revenue suffers with the general decline of letters.  It may, of course, be urged that all artists are amateurs before they secure a paying public.  The amateur novelist may be compared to the young dramatic author who gives his piece at a matinee, and who, once in a hundred times, finds a manager to approve it.  May not publishing en amateur be the only way of reaching the public?  To this question the answer is, No!  The risk of publishing a novel by a new author is nothing like so great as the risk of producing a play with an unknown name to it.  Publishers exist for the purpose of bringing out books that will pay, and they generally pounce on a good manuscript in fiction, whether the writer be known or unknown.  It is much more easy to predict whether a novel will pay or not than to prophecy about a drama.  Thus the most obscure author (in spite of the difficulties faced by “Jane Eyre” and “Vanity Fair”) may rely on it, that if his MS. is not accepted, it is not worth accepting.  He should not, if he has decently sound reasons for self-confidence, be disheartened by two or three refusals.  One man’s taste might be averse to “John Inglesant,” another’s might turn against Ouida, a third might fail to see the merit of “Vice Versa.”  But if half a dozen experts taste and reject a manuscript, it is almost certain to be hopeless.  Then the author should take the advice once offered by Mr. Walter Besant. “Never publish at your own expense.”  If you do, you stamp yourself as an amateur; you