“Beware of the books.  They tell but half of the story.  Whenever a poor wretch asks you for help, and you feel a doubt as to what result may flow from your benevolence, give yourself the benefit of the doubt and kill the applicant.”

And so saying he turned his face to the wall and gave up the ghost.

THE BENEVOLENT AUTHOR

A poor and young literary beginner had tried in vain to get his manuscripts accepted.  At last, when the horrors of starvation were staring him in the face, he laid his sad case before a celebrated author, beseeching his counsel and assistance.  This generous man immediately put aside his own matters and proceeded to peruse one of the despised manuscripts.  Having completed his kindly task, he shook the poor young man cordially by the hand, saying, “I perceive merit in this; come again to me on Monday.”  At the time specified, the celebrated author, with a sweet smile, but saying nothing, spread open a magazine which was damp from the press.  What was the poor young man’s astonishment to discover upon the printed page his own article.  “How can I ever,” said he, falling upon his knees and bursting into tears, “testify my gratitude for this noble conduct!”

The celebrated author was the renowned Snodgrass; the poor young beginner thus rescued from obscurity and starvation was the afterward equally renowned Snagsby.  Let this pleasing incident admonish us to turn a charitable ear to all beginners that need help.

Sequel

The next week Snagsby was back with five rejected manuscripts.  The celebrated author was a little surprised, because in the books the young struggler had needed but one lift, apparently.  However, he plowed through these papers, removing unnecessary flowers and digging up some acres of adjective stumps, and then succeeded in getting two of the articles accepted.

A week or so drifted by, and the grateful Snagsby arrived with another cargo.  The celebrated author had felt a mighty glow of satisfaction within himself the first time he had successfully befriended the poor young struggler, and had compared himself with the generous people in the books with high gratification; but he was beginning to suspect now that he had struck upon something fresh in the noble-episode line.  His enthusiasm took a chill.  Still, he could not bear to repulse this struggling young author, who clung to him with such pretty simplicity and trustfulness.

Well, the upshot of it all was that the celebrated author presently found himself permanently freighted with the poor young beginner.  All his mild efforts to unload this cargo went for nothing.  He had to give daily counsel, daily encouragement; he had to keep on procuring magazine acceptances, and then revamping the manuscripts to make them presentable.  When the young aspirant got a start at last, he rode into sudden fame by describing the celebrated author’s private life with such a caustic humor and such minuteness of blistering detail that the book sold a prodigious edition, and broke the celebrated author’s heart with mortification.  With his latest gasp he said, “Alas, the books deceived me; they do not tell the whole story.  Beware of the struggling young author, my friends.  Whom God sees fit to starve, let not man presumptuously rescue to his own undoing.”