oyster-farm, the credulous public fondly cling to the myth that editorial sanctums alone possess the sacred tripod of Delphi.  Curiosity is the best stimulant for public interest, and it has become exceedingly difficult to conceal the authorship of a book while that of magazine articles can readily be disguised.  I repeat, the world of novel-readers constitute a huge hippodrome, where, if you can succeed in amusing your spectators or make them gasp in amazement at your rhetorical legerdemain, they will applaud vociferously, and pet you, as they would a graceful danseuse, or a dexterous acrobat, or a daring equestrian; but if you attempt to educate or lecture them, you will either declaim to empty benches or be hissed down.  They expect you to help them kill time, not improve it.”

“Sir, is it not nobler to struggle against than to float ignominiously with the tide of degenerate opinion?”

“That depends altogether on the earnestness of your desire for martyrdom by drowning.  I have seen stronger swimmers than you go down, after desperate efforts to keep their heads above water.”

Edna folded her hands in her lap, and looked steadily into the calm, cold eyes of the editor, then shook her head, and answered: 

“I shall not drown.  At all events I will risk it.  I would rather sink in the effort than live without attempting it.”

“When you require ointment for singed wings, I shall have no sympathy with which to anoint them; for, like most of your sex, I see you mistake blind obstinacy for rational, heroic firmness.  The next number of the magazine will contain the contribution you sent me two days since, and, while I do not accept all your views, I think it by far the best thing I have yet seen from your pen.  It will, of course, provoke controversy, but for that result, I presume you are prepared.  Miss Earl, you are a stranger in New York, and if I can serve you in any way, I shall be glad to do so.”

“Thank you, Mr. Manning.  I need some books which I am not able to purchase, and can not find in this house; if you can spare them temporarily from your library, you will confer a great favor on me.”

“Certainly.  Have you a list of those which you require?”

“No, sir, but—­”

“Here is a pencil and piece of paper; write down the titles, and I will have them sent to you in the morning.”

She turned to the table to prepare the list, and all the while Mr. Manning’s keen eyes scanned her countenance, dress, and figure.  A half-smile once more stirred his grave lips when she gave him the paper, over which he glanced indifferently.

“Miss Earl, I fear you will regret your determination to make literature a profession; for your letters informed me that you are poor; and doubtless you remember the witticism concerning the ‘republic of letters which contained not a sovereign.’  Your friend, Mr. Murray, appreciated the obstacles you are destined to encounter, and I am afraid you will not find life in New York as agreeable as it was under his roof.”